“Hey, Dad. Sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” Danny said.

With a mug of coffee in my left hand, I leaned against the back of my chair and smiled at the screen, which displayed Danny’s sheepish expression.

The laptop sat on the kitchen table in front of me. Danny and I tried for these weekly video chat sessions, but lately it had been every two or three weeks because of his schedule.

“I understand, Danny. You’re growing up, working on your career. It’s only normal you forget about the person who raised you, cared for you, taught you how to walk…”

“Stop,” Danny moaned, hands over his face.

I laughed. “I’m just bugging you.”

“But seriously, Dad. I have no time for a social life. I don’t think I even remember what sunlight looks like. It’s purple, right? The sun?”

“Yep. A nice shade of violet. Turns greenish at night, though.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Growing a pretty thick beard there,” I said, nodding toward him on the screen.

He reached up and gave his beard a tug. “Taking after the old man, I guess.”

“It looks good, though. Suits you.”

“You’re only saying that because I look like a miniature version of you.”

I chuckled. “Barely. You got lucky. You look more like your mother.”

“Mom with a beard. Now there’s a thought.”

“Your mother could’ve pulled off a beard. Everything looked good on her.”

Danny smiled but it slipped away after a second. Much softer, he said, “You can talk about Mom a lot easier now. A few years ago, even the mention of her would make you go cold.”

“Time heals all wounds, Danny.”

“All of them?”

I shrugged. “It is easier for me to talk about your mother now. I still miss the hell outta her, but it’s not like it was before. I… I know your mother wouldn’t want me to be unhappy for the rest of my life because of her passing.”

Danny nodded but the frown on his face remained. “So, why do you still look so haunted? Hell, I wasn’t going to say anything, but you look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

I hadn’t. Not since seeing Archer six days prior. Images of his face, of our time together, chose to keep me up late at night. My body constantly felt uneasy, and my mind remained a cauldron of what-ifs.

“Speaking of the past,” I tried to say casually. “I ran into your friend Archer the other day.”

Danny said nothing for a moment. An odd expression crossed his face. And then he said, “In Banff?”

“Yeah. He said he’s up here working for a few months.”

“Huh.”

“Huh?”

“So you talked with him?”

My heart began to thud heavily in my chest. “Yes, why?”

“No reason.” Danny leaned back in his chair, moving a little further away from the screen and the camera. “It’s just… I don’t know. I never brought it up sooner, but I was kind of wondering if something happened between you two years ago. You know, after he stayed with you for those few months.”

It felt like acid was boiling in my stomach, eating away at the lining. “What do you mean?”

“Like, did you two get in a fight or something?”

“Did Archer say something to you?”

“Uh, no. Have you met Archer? He’s a stone wall. He doesn’t talk about anything, especially nothing personal, and especially not his feelings. In fact, after he came back to school, he didn’t mention you or his trip. Not once. Which isn’t exactly unusual for Archer, but it felt kind of—I don’t know—strained?”

I sighed heavily and scrubbed my hand over my face. “Well, yeah, I guess we ended things on a sour note.”

“I kind of figured. Archer’s my friend, but I know he can be… difficult.”

“No,” I said quickly, disliking the agitation in my voice. “It wasn’t anything Archer did. It was my fault. I caused the rift between us.”

Even from this many miles away, I could feel the heat of Danny’s gaze on my face.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It’s a bit personal, Danny.”

I could tell by his expression that he was beginning to get agitated. “A bit personal, huh? At first, since I thought it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with what Archer was going through then, I never brought it up. Because it was personal—for Archer—but now I can’t help but wonder what happened between you two.”

A cold sense of dread draped itself over me. “What do you mean?”

Danny looked around him, almost uneasily. “When Archer came back to campus, he wasn’t the same. He used to be like a glass vase held together by tape. But after that, he seemed more like flecks of glass in a tornado. He seemed so defeated, and I was worried that he’d get like he used to be.”

“Like he used to be?”

“I was worried a time or two that he might… hurt himself.”

“What?” I practically shouted.

He threw his hands up in defeat. “I feel like a piece of shit talking with you about this without Archer knowing. But god, it’s weighed on me too. For years. Even though I barely see Archer anymore, he’s still my best friend, and I hate talking about him behind his back.”

I nodded slowly, the sick feeling in my stomach aching more and more. “I understand.”

“I don’t think he would,” Danny said quickly. “Hurt himself, that is. He doesn’t seem like that anymore.”

I sighed heavily. “Thank god.”

“So, he never told you?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Did he tell you he has a lockbox with his dad’s Smith & Wesson inside it?”

“No.”

“I went to his room once. Knocked but no one answered. It wasn’t locked so I went inside. The lights were off but Archer sat on the edge of his bed, gun in his hands, staring at the wall. I said his name, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I don’t think I’ve ever been more afraid in my entire life. He was sitting there twirling a fucking gun in his hands.

“I shouldn’t have walked over to him. I should’ve backed out and called Campus PD. But I didn’t because I’m an idiot with no sense of self-preservation and he’s my best friend. So I walked over to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He noticed me then. There were—thank fuck—no bullets in the gun. He told me later he’s only ever bought bullets at the shooting range and no matter how many times he’s tried, he can’t get rid of the gun. His father gave it to him.”

“Christ, Danny. That’s… horrific.”

“I should’ve done more. Told someone. Got him help. Made him get help. There’s no excuse, but I was just a kid. Like nineteen or twenty, and a total moron.”

“What made that day different for him?”

“It was years ago. I learned later that it was the anniversary of his parents’ death. He gets like that every year now around the same time.”

“He didn’t seem like that to me when he was here. He seemed distant and quiet. Recovering and damn lonely. But not suicidal. Not… sad.”

“Maybe he wasn’t.” Danny shrugged.

“Maybe.”

He leaned forward. “So what happened between you two then?”

A part of me wanted to confess it all to him right then and there. Tell him the fine details that went into falling for someone. The quiet nights, the soft laughter, the shared glances.

Would he ever speak to me again? Would he blame me for Archer’s unhappiness like I blamed myself? Would he be angry for not telling him sooner or angry for telling him at all?

“I can’t talk about it, Danny,” I said gently.

Irritation flooded his expression. “Yeah, well, let me know when you can.”

He signed off.

---

Bottle of whiskey in hand, under the dark veil of the night’s sky, I walked out to my workshop.

When I pushed the door open, I closed my eyes for a moment and let myself remember how Archer’s hair smelled after he’d been in this room for hours. Like sawdust and pine needles.

I’d made a mistake letting him go. I’d known it the second I woke up the next morning. But I hadn’t lied to Archer. It had been too difficult on me then. I’d thought that since I’d been living my own lonely existence the past few years, I’d be able to continue. But I couldn’t. Not after meeting him and knowing a person like him was in the universe.

I flicked on the lights and sat down at my workbench. Scrapes and gashes covered the surface of the tabletop and small shreds of wood and sawdust blanketed it. After setting the bottle aside on the corner, I took one of the thinner pieces of wood I’d cut a while ago that had remained leaning against the side of the bench. I opened one of the drawers and pulled out a pencil.

And then, with a deep breath, I thought of Archer and began to draw on the wood.