Page 17 of My Family

"But the shop... he can't just... that's your business. That's both of yours, it's…" His voice cracks. He presses his forehead against the wall. "How much does he want? ... No, like, what's the actual number? What are we talking about?"

I stop writing. The pen goes still in my hand.

"What about the equipment? The lease? You can't just… yeah, I know, I know, but…" He swallows. "What about your kid? What about the... no. No, don't sell it. Don't sell the shop. Please. Just... can you hold on? Can you wait until I'm out?"

His knuckles are white around the receiver. The coiled cord trembles. I watch the boy who laughs at everything break down.

"Yeah," he says. Quiet now. The volume of someone who's stopped fighting. "Yeah, okay. I love you too. Tell the little dude I said hi. I'll... yeah. I'll figure something out."

He hangs up. But he doesn't let go. His hand stays wrapped around the receiver, fingers locked.

I stand and go to him. The other five kids at the phones look away. I reach past Jack and gently pry the receiver from his grip, finger by finger, the way you'd remove something sharp from a child's hand. The plastic is warm and damp from his palm. I place it in the cradle.

He stares at the phone.

"She's gonna lose the shop," he whispers. His face is blank. His brown eyes are fixed on a point in the middle distance.

"My whole future," he says. Not to me. To the wall, the phone, the air. "That was... I had a plan. I had a whole…"

He doesn't finish.

My hand goes to his shoulder, pressing enough that he can feel the weight of it.

He doesn't shrug me off. Doesn't lean in either. Just stands there, breathing.

"Take a minute," I tell him. "Take as long as you need."

The next resident is waiting by the door. I hold up a hand without looking. Not yet.

Jack stands in the phone room for four more minutes. I know because I watch the clock. Then he finally moves, mechanically.

He walks out. I check his name on the clipboard.

I call the next name. The system continues. It always does. That's the thing about institutions: they process grief on a schedule, allot it ten minutes, and move on. The phone room doesn't care that Jack's future just crumbled into the receiver of a payphone the color of old teeth.

But I do. And I don't know what to do about it yet, which is the worst feeling I know.

☐

Lunch is loud as usual, but not at our table.

Liam starts with the jokes. He's telling the story about the fish, miming Lu's knife technique, exaggerated and wrong on purpose. It's the kind of story that would normally have Jack wheezing, throwing his head back, feeding the punchline back with something even funnier.

Jack picks up a piece of bread. Sets it down. Picks it up again. Nods at something Liam says. His eyes are aimed at the table, at the food, at nothing.

Liam switches tactics. The comedy routine fades into something quieter, he moves closer, drops his voice, leans in the way he does when he's being genuinely earnest instead of performatively loud. His hand lands on Jack's arm, a brief squeeze. Jack doesn't pull away, but he doesn't respond either.

"Hey, plenty of other shops," Harry says from across the table. He's there to be with Jack, which is his fucked up version of supporting a friend. "Other fish in the sea, right? Get it?"

My eyes find his. The look I give him is cold and serious. His mouth closes. He looks at his tray. Wisely.

Then Miles does the most impressive thing: he gets up and touches Jack's shoulder. Jack looks up at him, a little confused. Miles nods for Jack to get up, and he does, reluctantly. Then Miles actually hugs Jack. It's stiff and awkward, but most of all it's shocking. Something none of us has ever seen him do. Now Jack is sobbing into his shoulder, and Miles just keeps hugging him while Liam, Harry, and I exchange looks in awe.

They hug for a little while until Jack stops crying. Then they both sit. We look at them as if they’d each had grown another head.

But Miles just says, "Sometimes we need to be sad."

That's it, he doesn't say anything more. Jack looks marginally better. That's all I can ask for.