“How is it? Being back home?” Zach asks. He called me to see how things were going, and damn if that doesn’t feel good. Like we really did connect, and it wasn’t just because of circumstances or he was feeling sorry for me. Zach and I have always been family, but now we’re also friends.

“Strange,” I say, flopping down onto the bigger bed that now occupies the room. I helped Mom clean up after dinner in the hopes that she wouldn’t get distracted from getting herself to bed. It wouldn’t be the first night I’ve found her wandering around, unsure of what she’s supposed to be doing. “Especially with Mom. Half the time she sees me in this room and thinks we’re back in 1998. She came in the other day and asked me why I’d taken down my Toy Story poster.”

“Buzz or Woody?”

“What?”

“Which was your favorite?” Zach asks as if that should have been obvious. “Buzz or Woody?”

“Buzz.”

Zach sighs into the phone, a sharp rasp against the speakers. “That explains so much.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“That we didn’t get along well initially. You’re a Buzz. I’m a Woody.” I snicker so loudly it turns into a snort. “Et tu, Parker? I’ve already got one friend with the sense of humor of a twelve-year-old.” Still, he says it with a laugh.

“Nah, there have always been two of us. It’s just easier to pawn off on Ben when he’s around.”

Zach’s laughter abruptly stops, and I hear Craig murmuring in the background. “Fuck, are they okay?” Zach says to Craig.

My good mood sizzles away like acid in my stomach. We have many shared friends, and I’d hate for Craig and Zach to be discussing any of them in hushed, worried voices.

“What’s going on?” I ask, hoping Zach’s paying enough attention to remember I’m still on the line.

“Mal was supposed to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” Zach says, and the acid in my stomach turns up from simmer to boil. “They texted Craig to let him know they won’t make it. They’re in the hospital in Glenwood Springs.”

“What happened?” My voice cracks.

“Don’t know. Apparently their text didn’t make much sense.”

“Thanks for calling, Zach. I’ll talk to you later.”

* * *

I leave my packed duffel bag by the kitchen doorway. Mom’s making Cream of Wheat for breakfast before they head to church. She has on an old “World’s Best Mom” apron that I gave her for Mother’s Day probably two decades ago over her pretty patterned dress. The only thing out of place are the worn blue slippers she wears over her panty hose instead of her heels.

At the thud of my bag hitting the floor, she gives me a surprised glance. “What are you doing up so early on a Sunday?”

Dad enters the kitchen while straightening his tie. “Going somewhere?”

There’s a meanness in his voice left over from our argument on Friday. After my visit with Dr. Mirza, I talked to Dad about hiring someone more qualified to deal with Mom’s disease, rather than me looking after her. He accused me of not wanting to help out, and tried to guilt trip me.

“After all the years she looked after you, loved you, you can’t be bothered to do the same for her?”

I honestly can’t tell if he really means it or if he’s just in denial about how bad her condition is. I would think for someone you loved, you’d want the best possible care, not a twenty-seven-year-old engineer who can’t even get his own life together.

“Do you remember my friend Mal?” I ask both of them, but looking at Mom because I’m afraid of what I’ll see on Dad’s face at the mention of Mal.

“Is he the one we talked about the other day?” Mom asks. I’m not sure which conversation she’s referring to, but chances are, if I was talking about a friend, it was about Mal.

“Yes.” She nods solemnly in response. “They’re in the hospital. I need to be there for them.”

Dad makes a choked sound that draws my eyes to his clenching jaw.

“There’s the man I raised.” Mom tweaks my chin and kisses my cheek. “Go get him. And give me a call and let me know how he’s doing, okay?”

There’s the Mom that should be here right now. The one that you talk to and would never imagine that her brain is slowly deteriorating. Well, except for the fact that she just encouraged me to go win back my person-who-is-not-female. Not in a million years would I have thought that was normal Mom.

“Thanks, Mom.” I can barely get the words out over the tightening of my throat. I kiss her back, squeezing her into a hug like it’s going to be the last one she remembers.

When I finally release her, I turn for my bag and start to leave, but Dad calls after me.

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll at least be a few days,” I say without turning around.

“What about your job interview next week?”

“This is more important. I have to go, Dad. It’s a twelve-hour drive.”

I walk out the front door without another word.

* * *

I’m sitting in my car in the Glenwood Springs hospital parking lot. I drove straight here, stopping only for fast food, gas, and to pee. When I arrived, I went to the admissions desk to ask for Mal’s room, only to be informed that they were released last night. I really should have tried calling Mal before now. I’ve rung them twice, both times with no answer.

Parker: Hi Mal, it’s Parker. Where are you?

If they don’t answer my texts, I don’t know what I’ll do. Go find a hotel, maybe, and call Zach to see if Craig has heard from them.

Mal: Hey Parker. It’s Mal. I’m hanging out with Craig and Zach. Where are you?

They’re in Fort Collins?

Parker: Pick up the damn phone when I call this time.

I switch to the dial pad and press “Send” again.

“What’s going on?” Mal answers.

“What the fuck? Zach told me you were in the hospital in Glenwood Springs.”

Mal laughs. “Oh yeah, that. Don’t worry. They released me last night. I stayed with my mom to make sure I didn’t have a concussion, but I’m fine. I came on home this morning. Apparently I texted some pretty funny stuff to Craig. Got them all in a tizzy over nothing.”

“Fuck.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“No, it’s just, I’m in Glenwood Springs.”

You could park the Grand Canyon in the space that lingers after that statement.

“You came for me?” Mal finally says, in a voice so soft I almost don’t hear them.

“Of course I came for you,” I say, smacking the steering wheel with a frustrated hand.

“Did you drive all day? I bet you’re exhausted. Listen, don’t go anywhere. I’m going to call my mom and tell her that she’s going to have a guest for tonight.” I try to interrupt at various places during Mal’s rambling string of words, but they never let me get a syllable in edgewise. “I’ll come back in the morning, and we can talk about it. But right now, let’s get you someplace you can crash. I’ll call you back in two minutes.” I don’t have a chance to protest before they’ve hung up.

I stare at the phone until it goes dark in sleep mode. What the fuck was I thinking, rushing here? I’m such an idiot. I just couldn’t stand the thought of Mal hurting and not being there to help.

The phone screen pops back up, momentarily blinding me as I still sit in the dark parking lot, but it’s a number that my phone doesn’t recognize.

“Hello?”

“Hello,” a female voice says back. “Is this Parker?”

“Yes.”

“Parker, I’m Felicity, Mal’s mom. I understand you need directions to my house.”

I put the phone on speaker, and let her talk me through it rather than try to use my phone’s GPS. She says it’s only a few blocks away anyway, and a couple of turns later, I’m pulling up to Mal’s childhood home. A woman waves from the porch.

She’s tiny, but mighty, and yanks me down for a hug when I reach her.

“Parker, it’s wonderful to finally meet you. Where’s your bag? Have you eaten?”

I left my bag in the car because I didn’t want to presume, and when I say as much, Felicity gives me an eye roll that very much reminds me of her child.

She leads me to the kitchen and makes me take a seat. “I’ll reheat my stir-fry leftovers. If you’d gotten here only an hour earlier, you could have eaten it with me. Of course, if I’d known you were coming …”

“I’m so sorry. I just dropped everything and ran when I heard.”

She hums as she empties chicken and broccoli from a plastic container into a bowl and pops it into the microwave.

“You must really like my Mal to do that.”

“They mean the world to me.” I just drove twelve hours in a panic at the hint they might be hurt. It’s a little late to pretend otherwise.

“I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

* * *

I wake to something tickling my nose. I bat it away, but it returns seconds later. My brain usually takes a minute to wake up, but a soft giggle has me alert and eyes open in seconds. Mal looms over me with a strand of hair in hand, poised over my nose.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” they say with a grin.

I’ve never seen a sight more beautiful.

Their grin widens. “Aw, thanks. I’d say right back atcha, but you still look exhausted.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” My brain must not be fully engaged yet.

“You really do act a little drunk when you’re tired, huh?” Mal folds their legs onto the bed. “I was going to wake you with a blow job, but I wasn’t sure how it would be received, given where we are.”

I huff out a brief laugh. “Yeah, not sure I’d be okay with fooling around in your mom’s house.”

Mal smacks a palm onto my chest. “Oh, that! I’m totally fine with oral in my childhood room. You’re good at keeping quiet. No, I meant, I wasn’t sure about where we are … relationship-wise.”

Given how confidently they spoke the rest of that – let’s just say bizarre sentence, the final word shouldn’t have been a question. But it definitely was.

I grab their hand and tug until they lay down beside me. I wrap my arms around their shoulders and tighten my grip until they have no choice but to snuggle into my chest. It isn’t until I feel Mal’s steady heartbeat against my own that I can relax for the first time since that damn phone call.