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He and Trey were on shaky legs for a little bit after Bobby came out to our parents, but they seem stronger than ever now. Bobby spends most nights at Trey’s, even during the week. Bobby started to work at a small private auto repair shop similar to our dad’s. He seems to like it all right.

And Joe and I have spent every night together over the past three months.

Which is why I am surprised when, instead of coming over after work on a Thursday night, Joe texts me instead.

Joe: I’m not feeling too great

Raincheck?

Liz: Sorry you’re not feeling well!

How did meeting with Lance go?

Joe: I’m sorry, I can’t talk about it right now

We’ll talk tomorrow

Liz: Okay. Feel better! Good night

Joe: Good night

I spend the evening cleaning and reading, but there is a ball of dread spinning in my stomach, getting larger and heavier by the minute.

Joe is usually the one who bends over backwards to make sure we end up spending the night in the same bed. Staying away is very much out of character for him. Maybe he’s really sick.

I keep reassuring myself that it’s not a big deal. People don’t have to see each other every day. But the thing is, Joe and I do; we see each other every day. Joe, normal Joe, would come over and let me pamper him if he’s feeling unwell.

The fact that he hasn’t gone out of his way to see me today means something happened. Something bad.

Maybe he’s already tired of me. Because people get tired of me.

The thought chills me to my core.

Not again.

****

The next day, I send Joe a couple of texts. His responses are delayed and terse, not like him at all.

Liz: How are you feeling? Did you come to work?

Joe: I’m fine, thanks

I push him.

Liz: What happened last night? With Lance?

I see the typing bubble appear and disappear several times. Ultimately, no text arrives.

Liz: I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?

I wait for a response for a long time. The ball of dread within me spins faster and faster.

Joe: I need a little more time

I will talk to you soon

Liz: Okay