Chapter 2

“I doubt it.” When River remembered to speak, his voice sounded like it’d been though a strainer. He folded his arms across his torso as if it could cover the mess of white cat fur and his own sheds of thick, dusky hair littering the jacket.

“I’m twenty-five.” Luke felt proud but River won the game.

“Well, I’m twenty-eight.”

“Oops! Sorry, sir!”

“Shut it, I’m not that old yet,” River mumbled, compensating for his pounding heart when a serious tone. “Catch me at thirty and try again.”

Dale would be thirty in July. River’s dark eyes drooped to the concrete. Luke didn’t interrupt his glazed-over expression for a few minutes.

“Hey, what are you here for?” The question didn’t sound like Luke meant the hospital. It was like Luke was asking River why he was here, in this park, on this bench, existing in this moment chatting with a stranger while pretending nothing was wrong.

“Because I couldn’t go back to my car yet.” River didn’t have the energy to go beyond the simple answer. He’d go back soon. He would drive home, listen to the pop rock station, walk in the door, feed the cat, go to work at the café, come home at three, then lie around the empty house. Maybe Jillian would drag him out for dinner. More likely, his father-in-law would call with another idea—like refinancing the house because Dale was the one who handled the money and he isn’t back with us just yet, so you need to make sure to take care of yourself. River shook his head, trying to snap himself out of the annoying thoughts. Maybe other people wallowed in attention like this, but River wanted it all gone.

He focused back on the present and an important question he forgot to ask. “Wait, you aren’t sleeping outside again, are you?”

“Oh no, don’t worry! I’m going to go find a hotel in a bit. Any recommendations?”

“If you go downtown, there’s a pretty cheap family-run motel on Hearth Street,” River tried. “It’s nothing fancy, but the people are nicer than the chain hotels.”

“Perfect.” Luke stood up and popped his back before slinging his bag over his left shoulder and wrapping his right fingers around the guitar case handle.

River stood, too. “See you. Be careful. Next time you might run into a crazy person by sleeping outside.”

“Hopefully you’ll come walking by my bench again before that happens.” Luke waved once. River watched his yellow Vans follow the right side of the walkway, scuffing dirt along the pavement, and brushing by the tendrils of weeds growing beneath the violet poppies. When the end of the guitar case disappeared around the corner, River followed the opposite path toward the parking garage.

River tore the name tag off his jacket, balling up the sticky paper and dropping it on the concrete. Hey, hospital, have some crap for making me feel like crap. He stepped into his grey CRV. They picked it out together three months after the wedding, but the truth was River didn’t like it. He wanted a smaller car, but Dale was so excited over it that River played along. Now, he was stuck with it.

The pop rock station had fifteen minutes of music left before the next commercial block at the start of the hour, perfect for how long it took to get to his neighborhood. He cranked up the volume. At least one thing knew what he needed. No, something else knew what he needed. The nostalgic guitar rhythm, the effortless laugh, the snarky exchange about names, the no one’s walking on eggshells around me, I can take my time talking, I can say anything I want feeling: it was like when he had asthma as a child and breathed in that puff of medication from the inhaler, clearing away all the pain and pressure in his chest. However, this cloud of medication was a one-time use. He wouldn’t see that man again except maybe passing on opposite sides of the street or from across a store.

River parked in the driveway of his two-story home. The beige barely faded since the last layer of paint two years ago. Cheesy signs in bark and wood designs littered the inside against calming blues, toffees, and greys. Upstairs hosted the master bedroom, with a spacious en suite bathroom, along with a bonus area. The kitchen downstairs hid the spare bedroom and another bathroom behind it. Beside the living room was a third bedroom, which they made into Dale’s office and where their Birman cat Jupiter usually made her home.

River stopped in the kitchen for two Eggo waffles and coffee with hazelnut creamer. He shed the jacket, but the T-shirt and jeans were acceptable for his work shift. Jupiter jumped on the kitchen island at the sound of River shaking food into her cat bowl kept on the granite surface. He had thirty minutes to be at work, but his waffles and coffee were gone in ten. Going in early was at least something to do, so he left again for the ten-minute drive.