As Far as You'll Take Me by Phil Stamper

Author:Phil Stamper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing

EIGHTEEN

The ride back is uneventful. Shane’s working when I get back, so it’s just me in the apartment. The highest highs of my weekend away with Pierce make these lows feel even lower. I open my laptop to check for new jobs, knowing I need to treat it like I did all my homework back at Avery High.

I’m an overachiever by nature. Not in that intensely smart, know-it-all kind of way, but the fear of failure drives me harder than anything. Back in high school, the few times we’d blow off homework to stay out through curfew, I’d always get up at 5:00 a.m. to finish it. Skye would turn papers in a few days late, taking the lower grade. And Megan would calculate her overall grade and convince herself she didn’t even need to do the work.

These little peculiarities in my friend group run through my mind. My email loads, and a dozen emails light up the screen.

They’re mostly from Megan.

“Fuck,” I say out loud, to no one. “Fuck fuck fuck.”

I connect to Wi-Fi and make a call. It’s still early Sunday morning in Kentucky, but she’ll pick up. Two rings. Three.

She picks up.

But she doesn’t say anything.

“Megan? Megan, I’m so sorry.”

“Did you just get back from the hospital?” she asks. “Did London’s power go out?”

“No. I’m sorry I missed our FaceTime; it totally slipped my mind. I went to Cardiff—in Wales, you know?—with that guy I was telling you about and a couple friends here.”

Again, she’s silent.

And then she’s not. “This was intensely hurtful. You are thousands of miles away from me and you go completely MIA, I can’t find any social media updates because you have no social media, and I can’t even leave you a voice mail.”

I rest my face in my hand.

“You’ve always had this fucking problem, Mart. You check out and you’re oblivious to everyone around you.”

“That’s not—” I start.

“Not true? Sure. Did you talk to your parents about this Wales trip? It’s Sunday, so you know they’re going to want a full report on your ‘new church’ or whatever—what was the sermon? Tell us about your new pastor. I shouldn’t have to remind you to do that, but I know you, and I know them.” She pauses. Her breathing comes in shallow puffs, but it feels heavy coming through the phone.

Fuck.

“I know, I know,” I say. “I’m sorry. Tell Skye I’m sorry too.”

“I’m not your housekeeper. Clean this up with him yourself.”

It’s hard to handle. I did this. I know I did. I want to shut down. I am shutting down. Like I always could do back home. Like I can never afford to do here.

“I, um … I have to practice.”

“My family is going to the Outer Banks next week, so you’re off the hook,” she says. “Might want to put the following Friday on your calendar now if you want to salvage this at all.”

She hangs up. I hang up too. I ignore the emails on my computer since none of them are about auditions.

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