Somewhere Else to Sleep

Owen asked if I wanted coffee after a department talk on Thursday.

"Ben's meeting us," he added, as though he could see the hesitation before I expressed it.

I said yes.

He wasn't teaching any of my courses that semester. I'd known him for years as Nate's friend before I knew him as the man occasionally leading a guest seminar. Still, I was relieved when Ben waved from a table by the window.

For an hour, we discussed summer work and the alarming cost of renting anywhere near campus.

"You applied for the residential placement?" Owen asked.

"Yesterday."

"Good. You've got the patience for research."

"He has the patience for other people's nonsense," Ben said. "Related skill."

I kicked him beneath the table.

Owen smiled. "The project's worthwhile. Don't withdraw because it's inconvenient for somebody at home."

I looked up.

His expression was ordinary. There was no reason to assume he knew anything.

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good."

When Ben went to collect our sandwiches, Owen turned his cup between his hands.

"I'd like to ask you something. You can say no, and it won't make anything awkward."

A warning began quietly in my stomach.

"Okay."

"If our paths crossed outside university, would you consider having dinner with me? Not a department coffee."

I glanced at the empty chair beside me.

He followed the glance.

"I don't mean to put you on the spot."

"You haven't," I said, though he had. "But there's someone else."

He nodded slowly.

"Are you together?"

"No."

It was a small word for such a miserable arrangement.

Owen looked at me for another moment.

"Then he's a fortunate man, whether he's realized it or not."

I shook my head. "I'm not very good company on this subject."

"All right. Subject closed. And the research advice stands."

Ben returned with three plates and an expression that suggested he'd noticed everything from the counter.

He didn't say a word about it until we were outside.

"You okay?"

"Yes."

"Actual yes or Elliot yes?"

"An emerging third category."

He put his arm around my shoulders.

"We'll workshop it."

Owen offered me a ride home because Ben was staying on campus. I accepted. I was tired of treating every ordinary choice as a message to someone who wouldn't answer his own questions.

Nate was in the drive when we arrived.

He looked from Owen to me.

"Hey," Owen said through the open window.

"Owen."

Whatever he heard in Nate's voice made his expression sharpen slightly.

"We were at the department talk."

"I didn't ask."

"No," Owen said. "You didn't."

I thanked him and got out.

Nate followed me into the house.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yes."

"He seems very interested in your education lately."

I set my bag down.

"Would you like to hear yourself say that again?"

He shut the front door.

"That's not what I meant."

"It sounded exactly like what you meant."

"Elliot, I know Owen."

"So do I."

He looked toward the drive, though the car was gone.

"Did he ask you out?"

There were several ways to hurt him with the answer. I disliked how quickly I found them.

"Yes," I said.

His face went still.

"And?"

"I said no."

The relief was visible. It made me angry.

"Don't look like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you've won something."

He stepped closer. "That's not fair."

"Neither is asking whether I'm seeing someone while you're engaged."

His gaze dropped.

For a second, the hallway contained everything neither of us knew how to fix.

"I know," he said.

"You keep knowing. Nothing changes."

He reached toward my bag, perhaps to help, perhaps simply because he needed something to do.

I picked it up myself.

"I'm tired, Nate."

"Of me?"

The question was so bare that I stopped.

I could have lied kindly.

"Of waiting for you to decide whether wanting me is worth the inconvenience."

He didn't follow me upstairs.

That night, Mom found me packing an overnight bag.

"Going somewhere?"

"Ben's. For a few nights."

She looked at the folded shirts.

"Is everything all right between you boys?"

Boys. Nate had employees and a mortgage on a property I'd never seen. I was old enough to recognize how badly I could hurt myself. In this house, we remained two boys who ought to get along.

"We're not fighting."

"You were doing so well."

I sat on the bed.

"Mom. Do you ever wonder whether asking me to try harder makes it easier for him not to?"

She looked startled.

"I didn't mean—"

"I know."

I loved her. I could see the effort she'd put into this family in every photograph she'd insisted on keeping, every dinner she'd arranged around somebody else's absence.

I could also see myself in the spaces she'd expected me to fill.

"I just need a little room," I said.

She nodded, slowly.

"Call me when you get there."

Downstairs, Nate was putting away his keys.

His eyes went to the bag.

"How long?"

"A few nights. Maybe a week."

"Does Rachel know?"

"I told her."

"I can go somewhere else if you need space."

I looked at him.

He was serious. He would leave his own house rather than watch me leave it.

Once, that would have been enough to make me stay.

"I need to do this," I said.

He nodded.

"Can I drive you?"

"Ben's coming."

His mouth tightened, then relaxed with visible effort.

"All right."

Outside, headlights turned into the drive.

I had nearly reached the door when Nate said my name.

He was holding the blue blanket.

"You forgot this."

I stared at it.

"That's dramatic for four nights."

"The sofa might be cold."

I took it. Our hands brushed through the folded fabric.

Neither of us pretended not to notice.

"Thank you," I said.

He looked as though he wanted to touch my face. I waited, terrified that he would and more terrified that he wouldn't.

He stepped back.

"Text Rachel," he said. "She'll worry."

I went outside.

Ben didn't ask why I was carrying a blanket like I'd been evacuated.

He put it in the back seat and handed me a paper bag.

"Emergency croissant."

I laughed so abruptly that it turned into something else.

He waited until I could put on my seat belt.

That night, the sofa unfolded with a noise like a building losing confidence. Ben gave me the good pillow and apologized for the radiator.

After he went to bed, I lay beneath the blue blanket and listened to strangers walking home outside.

My phone lit up at eleven seventeen.

NATE: Are you comfortable?

I looked at the message for a long time.

ME: Yes.

Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again.

NATE: Good night, Elliot.

I pressed the phone facedown against my chest.

For the first time, I had left before he could send me away.

It hurt nothing like winning.