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His shoulders shook.
He bowed his head.
Phillip was breathing just as heavily, still standing right in front of David. They weren’t touching, but it was a near thing, their hands almost brushing together. David didn’t say anything, not because he couldn’t think of a single word, but because he was full of too many of them. He wanted to give Phillip all the words he needed to hear, and he couldn’t decide which one to say first, which one was more important. And maybe he still hated Phillip, just a little, for saying that she wasn’t coming back, because that was the worst thought he’d ever had, the absolute worst. That was the thought that came to him when he was at his lowest, when he was by himself in his shitty apartment, alone with nothing and no one else to distract him. That was the nightmare he didn’t know if he could wake up from. He’d been told once, by a man whose son had been missing for near two decades, that he just about didn’t care anymore, because the not knowing was the worst. “Just give me my son’s body,” he’d said. “Give me my son’s body so I can bury it and make this end. I don’t care if it’s the whole thing or just a hip bone or a skull, just give me something so I can finally say he’s not missing anymore. I’d rather him be dead and back home than not know at all.”
David understood that. He did. He really did. And maybe once or twice, when he thought the same thing that was making him hate Phillip right now, he understood that. Because the not knowing was the worst thing of all.
When you didn’t know, you were stuck in this limbo.
You didn’t know who to focus your anger on.
Your confusion.
Your fear.
Your anguish.
So it went wherever it could, that focus.
And sometimes, it went toward the wrong person.
Phillip was there. Wonderful Phillip. When David had met him for the first time, he’d thought, Hi, hello, who are you and why can’t I wait to find out?
Phillip, who now sagged forward, his forehead against David’s shoulder, their arms at their sides. They were existing in the same space again for the first time in so long, but that didn’t matter, because it was familiar, and it was home, and it was everything David had missed since those toxic words had spilled from his mouth.
He couldn’t pick which words to say, because this seemed like one of the most important moments of his life.
It was Phillip who spoke first. Of course it was. That was always the way of things.
But the words were muffled into David’s shoulder.
“What?” David asked, wincing at how hoarse he sounded.
“Give me your keys.”
“Why?”
“David.”
David did. Their fingers brushed together. It was only a moment, but it felt like hours.
Phillip took a step back. His eyes were red, water on his lashes in little beads. He looked down at the fob in his hand, then back up at David. Back to the fob. He pressed the button, and the SUV beeped somewhere off to their left, the taillights flashing briefly.
“Let’s go.”
David didn’t know what was happening. “Phillip, you don’t—”
But Phillip was already walking away.
David could do nothing but follow.
He didn’t argue when Phillip got into the driver’s seat. He went to the opposite side and slid in, pulling the door shut behind him.
The only sound was the rain on the roof.
He held his wet coat and scarf in his lap. The umbrella went by his feet.
Phillip pulled off his own scarf, which he must have gotten back from the little hostess, tossing it in the backseat. He slid the seat forward, just a little. Fixed the rearview mirror. Gripped the steering wheel and breathed through his nose. Then he reached down, pushed the button, and started the SUV.
