Page 77 of The Warmth of Our Closest Star

“What, Frenchie?”

I laughed and shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t this what we do?”

“Get a fuckin’ life, bro,” he said. “Don’t you have any real friends?”

That was so Alex. Pretending that he was above actually claiming someone was his friend. Over time, I came to realize it wasn’t a joke to him. It was a defense mechanism. It was his way of making sure if a relationship ended it didn’t feel like an actual relationship, to begin with, so it wasn’t as devastating. However, as long as he kept answering my calls, I’d keep making them. It proved he was interested in staying friends.

For months I’d been video calling him nearly every day. I’d called him on the first Christmas that I spent alone in my new apartment. It had been a lot of me to ask—that he spend time talking to me on such an important holiday that should be spent with family—but he had talked to me without complaint for hours. I called him on New Year’s Eve so I didn’t ring in the new year on my own. He talked to me for hours then, too.

I could talk to him about anything. He was a great friend. Even when he was pretending he didn’t care if we were friends.

One topic I never broached with him—at least not in a direct way—was Peter. They had been friends for years before Alex and I had even met. I was certain they were still friends. However, Alex and I were really good friends, too. I didn’t want to do anything to endanger that by saying the wrong thing about Peter. Alex never brought up Peter, either. Of course, he didn’t want to say the wrong thing to me. So, Peter was a taboo subject. It’s difficult to grow closer to someone when such an important chapter of your life is sealed, never to be read by them. Of course, I spent every interaction with Alex worrying that he’d tell me we couldn’t be friends any longer due to the tension it might be causing between Peter and him. If it happened, I’d be understanding. But I hoped that the one true friend I’d made since moving to America wouldn’t be lost.

“I have a life,” I snapped. “Kind of. I mean, I suppose.”

“Lightning quick wit you have there. I’m absolutely devastated by your rebuttal.”

“Oh, shush,” I said. “How are you, my friend?”

Sighing, Alex stared into the phone screen.

“I didn’t ask to be born, you know? But what’s done is done, so I’m going to fuck up as much shit as I can while I’m here. You?”

Laughing, I said: “I suppose the same. Work is good. I love my apartment. Yeah. Life is okay.”

“Just okay?”

I shrugged.

“Look,” Alex said, “I’m not an incredibly busy man, but I only have so much patience. What’s on your mind?”

“Do you think I should move back to France? Or even Canada?”

I’d barely finished the question when Alex began to laugh.

“Because your life was so great then?” he asked.

Alex’s question gave me pause. We had never discussed my life in great detail, but we’d had enough deep conversations over the time we’d known each other that he could put the pieces together. One day, maybe we’d fill in the gaps, but knowing enough was sufficient for a friendship.

“Well, no, but—”

“You know,” Alex cut me off, “if you don’t know where you’re going, it’s usually best to stay where you are.”

“Huh?”

“Stop creating the storm, man,” he said. “It doesn’t have to rain every fucking day. Even if that’s what you’re used to. Maybe, I don’t know, enjoy the fucking sun when it’s out.”

“You don’t understand. I—”

“Enzo,” he said, and I knew he was being serious since he used my actual name, “get out of your own damn way.”

I sat there.

“And look, I’ve gotta go. Not that I’m not enjoying watching a friend try to constantly sabotage their own life, but I’ve got a meeting in three minutes before I can call this day done.”

“I’m sorry,” I slumped in my seat.

“It’s just advice, man,” he said. “Not an admonishment.”