“Do you think you made a mistake?” Zoe asks me as my sister pets my head, both of them on the bed with me.

“She’s crying, Zoe, what do you think?”

I burrow under my pillow so that I don’t have to see anybody anymore. “I don’t think it was a mistake. I’m just sad. Can you guys just leave me alone?”

“No way am I leaving you like this.” Lexi adjusts herself next to my head, lifts my pillow and peeks underneath. “You’ve been in here for three days. If we didn’t bring you food, you wouldn’t be eating.”

Zoe sighs, “Ralphie is pawing at your legs.”

“I know, I can feel him through the comforter. Pick him up for me.”

Lexi reaches over, grabs our fluffy, white cat, and pushes him in my face. “How can you stay depressed when this kind of beauty is staring right at you? And he actually left Zoe’s room to come see you! He can tell you’re depressed!”

Rolling over, I pull him onto my chest. “I’m just not feeling very good, guys. Can’t you just leave me be for a few months or so?”

They both say, “No.”

“Let’s go for a drive,” Lexi suggests.

Why does everything feel so damn end of the world apocalyptic? Even with them here, I feel alone.

I let go of Ralphie and groan, “I’m allergic to water. And soap.”

Lexi stands up and shakes out her red hair. My depression must be rubbing off on her because she didn’t straighten it today. It’s become more curly as she’s gotten older, much to her chagrin. The battle is waged on a daily basis with every new product that comes out. I don’t think she realizes that she looks great with it curly. No matter how many times we tell her. What you perceive in the mirror is not what other people do. “We’re driving!”

With a hopeful smile Zoe offers, “What about the gardens?”

Lexi rolls her eyes, “Listen flower addict, not everybody gets off on plants the way you do.” She walks to my mirror and straightens the green sweater I bought her for Christmas.

Our cousin runs out of the room and returns with Sally Ashes, soft, ashen fur squished between her fingers. “You need two cats to love on, here!” Sally joins her boyfriend as he climbs over my chest, gracefully leaps to the floor and prances out of the room with his tail in the air.

Lexi mutters, “Even Ralphie is sick of this room.”

Pushing the comforter off, I grumble, “Okay, I’ll take a shower.” As I trudge out in my fuzzy socks, dirty tank and sweats, my phone buzzes on the nightstand.

Lexi calls after me, “It’s Logan!”

My heartbeat suspends, and I spin around to grab the phone from her hand. We lock eyes as I answer, “Logan?” and wave for them to leave the room.

This demands privacy.

Zoe starts to go.

Lexi doesn’t budge.

“Hey Sam,” he says, voice heavy with all that’s happened between us.

“Hi Logan. I’m sorry, can you give me a second? My sister is being nosy.”

Lexi throws up her hands and follows Zoe out. “Fine! You didn’t have to tell him!”

“Close the door, please.”

Zoe reaches back and does it, to avoid an argument.

Logan asks, “They gone?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, fingers shaking as I push my hair behind my ear, imagining his face and the frown I can hear etched into it. “How is it? Are you having fun?”

“Rehearsals are harder here.”

“Standards must be higher.”

“That’s not why.”

The pain cuts deep. “Oh.”

“So I guess you decided not to come,” he chuckles with sarcasm before he adds, “I mean, that’s pretty obvious. I’m just surprised you didn’t tell me. I had to find it out by meeting your replacement. Good times, Sam.”

Collapsing onto my bed, I stare at the ceiling. “When I realized how cutthroat things are, I just…” Closing my eyes I whisper, “It’s not the life for me, Logan. I don’t want to worry about covering up people’s secrets, or injuries that might’ve been done on purpose, or grow a thicker skin. I like my skin the way it is.”

“Are you running because of what I said?”

“I’m hoping we can be friends.” My voice cracks. “I haven’t been handling this well, Logan. You’re the person I always turn to when I need someone who will listen. Who will just…”

“…love you.”

Tears gather as I struggle to ask what’s been hurting me most, “Are you going to be able to be my friend? Is everything changed now?”

He exhales. From years of seeing him do this when he’s frustrated, I know he’s rubbing his face. “I can try. I don’t want to lose you. It feels really weird living this dream without you. We always talked about coming here, and I’m here and you’re not. It feels wrong.”

It does to me as well. “I’m sorry. I’m having an existential crisis. Especially with you gone.”

“Was it what I said about Asher? Is it because you were afraid he was going to drop you, like he did Marion?”

“I don’t think he did. What I don’t like is that I’m not sure,” I sigh, rolling into the fetal position, “People suspect it, but are letting it continue because that’s just how it is in show business? That’s not part of the dream I had, Logan. I’d rather live in the small pond and be happy.”

In the background I hear male voices calling his name.

“Look, the guys and I are going to Central Park before rehearsal since we get no days off.”

“What’s New York like?”

“Busy, just like they say it is. You go outside and there are a million people passing you, some speaking different languages, all in a hurry. Horns and sirens never stop, but you get used to that. We’ve only been here a week. I still have a lot to see.” Keeping it to myself that it doesn’t sound good to me, I listen as he continues, “Galloway has been working us so hard we haven’t time to explore. We’re beat up every night. I go to the local coffee shop, get food from bodegas, and pass out. Stuart has lofts for the performers. There are five guys staying with me.”

Wondering if Stuart told his wife, I try to smile as I say, “Five! That sounds like a lot of fun.”

“It is. I’m having a pretty good time when I’m not missing you.” My heart thuds and I bite my lip on a frown as he goes silent. We stay like this, knowing we have to hang up soon, but neither of us wanting to. Finally his friends shout at him again. “I’ll give you a call sometime.”

“No!” I bolt upright. “Logan Clark, you have to call me once a week! We have to make it a thing.”

“Sam…”

I wipe away a tear as I insist, “We have to make it a thing or you’re going to be swept up, and I’m never going to see you again.”

“The production isn’t going for long.”

“But then there will be another one. And another. You’ll fly to a different country. Then maybe five more. And you’ll forget about me, your best friend living all the way over here in boring Georgia. So we have to make it a thing. Once a week. Promise me!”

His voice is hoarse with emotion. “What day?”

“Monday. Mondays are terrible, but they won’t be if I know I’ll be talking to you.”

Logan sniffs, clears his throat, says a low, “Mondays. Promise,” and hangs up.

I stuff the pillow over my head and sob.