I met Antoni for brunch the next day at an upscale farm-to-table place near my apartment. He looked a little worse for wear, but he was still sipping on a mimosa.

“Rough night?” I asked, sitting down across from him.

“I don’t know about you, but I had a wonderful time last night. You really made an impression on Lori that’s for sure.” My mind flashed back to Lori’s immaculately-manicured talons fondling my pecs.

“She’s very … affectionate,” I volunteered.

“Micah, we can’t help that you’re a looker.” Suddenly, his cell phone buzzed. “Hold on, I gotta take this.”

“Antoni Powers here, talk to me. Yes, of course. Yes, he could do, one second.” He scrolled through his phone quickly. “He could do next Thursday at 3, would that work? Okay, perfect.” When he hung up he was beaming.

“Micah, that was Lori, they want you for another screen test for Hot Law and do a chemistry read with some of the other actors, and they picked up Lawrence Owens to direct the first season so they want you to meet him.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Nope, it’s down to you and Justus Garrett, but that kid’s a diva and I heard he’s a terror on set. Between you and me, Lawrence Owens is no-nonsense when it comes to unscripted drama, so you’re a shoo-in. He’s gonna take one look at the craft services clause in Justus Garrett’s contract and kick him to the curb.”

A smile broke out onto my face. I couldn’t believe it, this was finally happening! I was going to be a lead, in a serial drama with an award-winning director. I would get royalties and brand deals, I’d get custom suits for season premieres. It was all happening, it was finally happening.

“Well, in that case we might have to spring for another round of mimosas. My treat.” Suddenly, my phone buzzed — it was the number from the law office that called me last night, calling me back. I figured I should take this.

I gestured at Antoni to wait. “Hello?”

“Hi this is Morgan Olivier, I’m a paralegal from Martinez and Martinez LLC and we were hoping to get in touch with Micah Carson …?”

“Speaking,”

“Oh, wonderful. Mr. Carson, I’m reaching out as a representative of Lindsey Benson.”

“Aw, Linds! What now? Is she trying to sic child support on me?” Upon overhearing this Antoni gagged on his mimosa, sputtering loudly. He hacked into his napkin for thirty seconds before mouthing, “Child support?!”

Morgan sighed on the other line. “Mr. Carson, are you aware that Ms. Benson is recently deceased?”

I almost dropped my phone. Lindsey was my childhood best friend but we hadn’t talked in months and now she was … dead?

“I —- what? How? When? Was she okay, I mean obviously not but, she wasn’t sick? Was she? She would’ve told me if she was sick This isn’t like her. Wait, are you sure it’s her? That’s Lindsey with an ‘E’ and not an ‘A’. I -- did you,” my brain was spiraling, suddenly there was a loud ringing in my ears. Lindsey couldn’t be dead. My palms started to sweat so I gripped my phone tighter in my hand. Mentally, I overviewed the plot of every police procedural in my head, “Did you have someone go down and I.D. the body? You’re sure it’s her? You’re calling me about Lindsey Louise Benson, and she has a tattoo of a sprig of lavender on her wrist? Or, had,” I was starting to get choked up, Antoni glanced over at me concerned.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Carson, we’re sure it’s her. Ms. Benson and her wife were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from dinner last Saturday night. Now, I’m sorry for your loss, but the reason I’m calling is to confirm that you donated sperm to Ms. Benson and her partner in 2015, correct?”

“Yeah, Linds wanted to make sure she knew her kid’s father to make sure he wasn’t a serial killer.” I spoke automatically, feeling numb.

“Okay, and you are aware that Ms. Benson and her partner did have a child together later that year, using your donation?”

“Yeah, I mean I’ve never met the kid but they send me pictures sometimes.”

Antoni looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Kid! What kid?! When? Who did you knock up? If the press gets ahold of this, we’re gonna be in deep shit, Carson. What the hell?”

Quickly, I pressed the phone to my shoulder. “Antoni give me a second, this is important.”

Morgan continued. “Okay, so you were aware of the child, but you’ve never met him?”

“Pretty much.”

“Mr. Carson, are you aware that, since you are his biological father, you now have full custody of Ross Benson since both of his mothers are deceased?”

“I, what? Custody? What do you mean custody? Like, they picked me to raise him, out of all the people they could have picked? ” I loved Lindsey dearly when she said that I was going to be her son’s father I always thought the actual parenting would be Lindsey’s time to shine. She was warm and caring. Both her and Katharine were great parents, there was no way that I could possibly fill their shoes.

“Mr. Carson, as was outlined in the donor agreement that you signed with Ms. Benson and her partner in 2015, you were Ms. Benson’s next of kin, in addition to being the biological father. Thus, in the event of Ms. Benson or her partner’s passing, you get full custody. Now, I suggest you get down here to Connecticut as quickly as possible. Ms. Benson’s funeral is on Friday and seeing as you’re the father of her child, you’ll have to make the proper arrangements for his care. How soon can you get here?”

I gripped the phone even tighter while desperately trying to process all of this new information. My best friend was dead, I was a dad, and now I’d have to put everything on hold during what is quite possibly the most important week of my career in order to deal with all of this.

“Um, tomorrow I guess? I can book a flight tonight.”

“Okay, thank you. We’ll contact you if anything else in regards to Ms. Benson’s estate comes up, is this the best number to reach you?”

“Yes,” I said numbly.

“Okay, thank you, Mr. Carson. Have a nice day.”

“Thanks, you too.” She hung up the phone and Antoni and I sat there at the table, staring at each other with our jaws agape. Neither of us wanted to be the first to break the stunned silence. The waitress brought another round of mimosas, and the check. Finally, Antoni spoke.

“Micah, in addition to you being my client I also consider you to be my friend. So, as your friend, is there anything that you want to tell me?”

I sighed. “Three years ago, right before I moved out to LA, I donated my sperm to my friend Lindsey and her partner so they could try and have a kid. Um, it obviously worked and they have a son together.”

Antoni cut me off. “So you’re the dad? You’re a dad? You’re someone’s father?”

“Yeah, I mean on paper I am, but,” I took a deep breath to steady myself, “Lindsey and her wife died in a car crash last weekend. And I’m her next of kin I guess, so I need to go back home, just for like a week don’t worry, and I need to take care of this kid.” I pressed my face into my hands and groaned.

Antoni, who was never one for empathy, reached across the table and patted me on the shoulder. “Just make sure you’re back in time for your audition, okay?” It was classic Antoni. I nodded.

“I need to go pack, okay?”

Antoni nodded. “Good luck, kid.”

Back at my apartment, I poured myself a stiff drink and sank down into the couch. Not to be melodramatic, but it felt like everything in my life was crashing down around me in slow motion. Finally, after years of shitty PSA’S I was going to work on a project that felt worthwhile and like it could really be meaningful, only to have it come crashing down around me in less than a day. It sucked, and for the first time in months I wanted to call Lindsey, and I couldn’t. She’d always helped me when things felt hectic. She was strong and funny as hell and sweet, my first friend and my junior prom date, and now she was … gone. I remembered the day that she asked me to be her sperm donor.

I was working days as a barista and taking improv classes at night. While I was still wiping cappuccino foam off of my one pair of nice pants, my phone buzzed. It was Linds, blissfully in love and recently returned from her cliché-but-still-dreamy honeymoon in Hawaii.

“Hi, Michael.” I knew it was serious from the moment that she used my full name.

“Hello, Lindsey Louise Benson-Caraway. Or is it Caraway-Benson?”

She giggled. “We still haven’t decided yet, but um, we do have a question for you …”

“We? Linds, are you retroactively asking me to officiate your wedding? That sermon was an absolute snore.”

“What? No! Katharine’s grandfather did an amazing job, he’s eighty-eight! God, you’re such a pompous ass, I don’t even know why I’m asking you in the first place.” She trailed off fuming.

“Asking me what?”

“Okay, so Katharine and I were talking and we want kids. So we were wondering, would you, uh, be our sperm donor? We wanted it to be someone that we know and trust and you’re my best friend and you obviously don’t have to be in the kid’s life if you don’t want to.”

I cut her off. “Lindsey, of course I’ll be your donor! Wait, we don’t have to like do anything, do we?”

“What? No! It’s a medical procedure, you perv,” she scoffed.

“Good, I love you, Linds, but I don’t think you’re ready for your one night in paradise.”

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“Maybe you’ll have a confident kid then. And you know, I’d like to meet them, whenever you’re ready, and if this even works.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. Think about it, our kid is gonna be awesome. And they’re gonna have the coolest bio dad on this planet.”

“You promise?”

“Yeah, Linds, pinky swear. I’ll look out for this kid.”

“Thanks, Micah, you’re the best.”

“No problem, Linds, I love you.”

“Love you, too. Katharine!” She bellowed. “Guess what?!” and clicked off. That night, I went to improv, wondering if our hypothetical kid would inherit my knack for quick thinking or improvisational theatrics.

I got up and poured myself another drink, stumbling a little. What the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn’t just drop everything and hop on a plane, but I promised Lindsey I would look out for her … I mean, I guess, our, kid. How would I explain an impromptu trip home to my director? I never told my mom about Lindsey using me as a donor, she’d kill me if she knew she had a grandchild out in the world that she’d never met. I had never felt so confused or so completely alone in my entire life. It felt like there was no one I could turn to, but then it hit me: I could call Ben.

Lindsey’s twin brother was my first crush, he was rugged and gruff, a real man’s man who seemed to skip the lanky phase that was requisite for all high school boys, instead sporting a six pack due to weight training — one that he wasn’t afraid to flash during long summer afternoons stretched out on lawn chairs at the local pool. He was beautiful, and to this day thinking about him made my heart race. I knew immediately that he must be crushed. Despite being a mere five minutes older than Lindsey he was always fiercely protective of her. I scrolled through my phone and found his number. It only rang once before he picked up.

“Hello?” His voice was still husky and gentle, it made my stomach drop down to my knees. Years of forgotten desire mixed with today’s onslaught of scotch and mimosas, I felt like I was going to throw up.

“Hello, Benjamin? It’s Micah,” I said tentatively.

“Micah. You heard, didn’t you.” He sounded completely exhausted, voice flat.

“I am so sorry. I can’t believe it, she can’t be gone. I—how are you?”

“I’m as good as I can be, it still doesn’t feel real. The funeral is on Saturday and, I don’t know. It just feels fake. Ross doesn’t know what’s going on.” His voice started to break at the mention of Ross.

“That’s his name?”

“I—oh yeah. I keep forgetting you’ve never met the little guy, yeah, Ross. He’s great.”

“I bet. Benjamin, that’s actually one of the reasons why I’m calling. Lindsey’s lawyer called me this morning and she said that since I’m technically the biological father and both of his parents are dead, I have custody.”

“What? That’s insane, you’ve never even met the kid!”

“I know, but … I told Lindsey I would look out for him and I want to do right by her. And, you need help, don’t you? I want to go down for at least the week just to help out and meet him, you know. This can’t be easy for either of you, would that be okay? I can book a flight tonight and get there by tomorrow afternoon.”

There was a tense silence on the other line, but then Ben spoke. “Yeah, that would be … great actually. I really do need the help, turns out arranging two funerals isn’t a one-man job, and Ross should know who his dad is, y’know? You are family and I think Lindsey would have liked for him to get to know you,”

“Okay, I’ll text you when I land tomorrow, but let me know if you need anything before that.” I tried to sound reassuring.

“Okay, thanks Michael, I really needed this.” My heart hit the floor when I heard him say my name again. I hung up the phone and dug my suitcase out of my closet, tears streaming silently down as my face as I booked my flight home for my best friend’s funeral.

Ben

I woke up to Ross tugging on my shirt. “Uncle Ben! Up!” he said resolutely. He still had no idea what was going on, he’d spent the night alone with me a couple of times before so at this point he still thought this was just a prolonged sleepover. It broke my heart and confounded me at the same time. How did you explain death to a three-year-old?

“You’re right, buddy. How about some breakfast?” I got out of bed and jumped into last night’s jeans, trying to feel functional.

“Eggs?” Ross asked eagerly.

“Sure, bud. Whatever you want.” I scooped Ross up into my arms and we headed into the kitchen. I shifted him onto my hip and grabbed the eggs out of the fridge, and fished around my cupboards for a pan. I wanted to sleep all day, grief was exhausting, but I had to keep it together for Ross. It wasn’t just about me anymore, this kid depended on me.

My cell phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mr. Benson? This is Morgan Olivier, Lindsey’s lawyer. I wanted to let you know that I reached out to Ross’ birth father and informed him about Ms. Benson’s death, and his subsequent custody of their child.” It was much too early for legalese.

“Yeah, he called me last night. He’s coming into town for the funeral.”

“Good, I suggest that you tell Mr. Carson to inform his own legal team so you can work out an arrangement for custody.”

“I mean, Ross doesn’t have to go with him, right?” I asked, suddenly getting worried. Would a custody battle be the best thing for Ross? Would I even have the money for a custody battle? Would Micah sic some Hollywood lawyer on me and suck me dry of my minimal assets?

“Technically, Mr. Carson could sign away his parental rights thus enabling you to adopt Ross, but he deserves to be fully informed about the situation.”

“Yeah, that makes sense, I — just, would a custody battle be the best thing for Ross?”

“Who knows Mr. Benson, that’s why I suggest you get a third party to mediate this for you.”

“Okay, well, I guess I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

“Yes, please do. Custody can get complicated and I know that this is a hard time for you, Mr. Benson. But, it is in your best interest to refrain from doing anything rash.” Now she just sounded ominous.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to call you.”

“Sounds good, Mr. Benson, have a nice day.”

“You, too,” I said, hanging up the phone.

Almost immediately after I hung up, my phone buzzed. It was Micah, his flight just landed. My mind flashed back to Micah in high school, already cognizant of his actor good looks with the swagger of a seasoned theater professional. He had brooding blue eyes, the same as Ross, and thick, curly hair. He was beautiful, statuesque even. I wondered how much he’d changed, the Google alert I set for “Micah Carson” recently alerted me that he was in the running to be cast for some smarmy primetime legal drama, and my guess was that it was already getting to his head.

I looked down at Ross who was happily sitting at my kitchen table eating his breakfast. “Ross,” I said, and he looked up at me with Micah’s eyes.

“Ross, do you want to meet my friend, Micah? He went to high school with your mama and I, and he really wants to meet you. He was mama’s best friend,” I explained.

I decided that now was a little too early to break the news to Ross that Micah was his dad, after all he had just lost both of his mom’s barely a week ago. Plus, I wasn’t sure how to explain the concept of donating sperm to a three-year-old, so I settled on the abridged version, which wasn’t technically a lie. Lindsey and Micah had been best friends since they were ten. I considered Micah to be a friend as well, although we weren’t nearly as close as he and Lindsey—few people could replicate that bond. I was always intimidated by Micah when we were teens, he seemed so mature and together. Only recently I realized that my aversion to Micah could have been a repressed crush, every memory that I had of Micah made my stomach flip.

Ross stared at me, confused. “Mama’s best friend? ” he asked, looking around the room for Lindsey.

“Yeah, he heard about how cool and special you were so he flew here from California to meet you,” I explained. Ross stuffed a forkful of eggs into his mouth, if this bothered him, he didn’t show it.

My phone buzzed, it was Micah again. “My flight just landed.” Three frantic dots bubbled at the bottom of the screen. “Wanna pick me up? If not, I can spring for a Lyft, no worries. I texted a friend of Lindsey’s to take Ross for an hour, and then I texted him back. “No, it’s fine. I’ll pick you up. I just need to drop off Ross at Linds’ friend’s place first.”

The onslaught of dots appeared again. “Are you sure?” Then a few seconds later, “I still get to meet him, right?”

I told Ross to go get his shoes and his backpack. Then I texted Micah back. “Yeah, of course. We just need to do it somewhere less hectic than an airport, you know?”

“Totally,” Micah replied. “Text me when you get to the airport.”

“Sounds good,” I replied. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

Micah Carson always knew how to brood, he was the one that made Lindsey mixtapes full of the The Smiths and Tom Waits. He knew how to make any place on earth seem atmospheric. First of all, he wore his late twenties well, he was smoldering. His eyes were a piercing blue and his hair was jet black and perfectly styled, he seemed muscular … for Micah at least. The moment he locked eyes with me, his eyes welled up with tears.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, “I didn’t really let myself miss her until I got here.” He rushed forward and enveloped me in a hug, pressing his face into my chest leaving splotches of tears on my T-shirt.

“It’s just weird, being here… without her.” He started to sniffle again and I couldn’t help but hug him back.

“I know,” I said. “It’s good to see you, I wish the circumstances were. . .” I paused.

“Anything but this?” he asked, sniffling.

“Yeah, pretty much.” I stepped back to look at him more fully. “But what can I say? You look good Carson.”

Good was the understatement of the century, Micah looked gorgeous. He was statuesque, the baby fat had melted from his body, he looked like he could be a stand-in for a Greek God in a painting. I always thought it was bullshit when people talked about any so-called “star power” that celebrities had, and I would barely call Micah a celebrity, but his presence was magnetic. I wanted to hug him again, or maybe throw up… who knew? I could tell that he missed Lindsey too, and part of me felt comforted by the fact that I had someone else to help with funeral preparations, it didn’t hurt that someone was hot.

“You don’t look so shabby yourself. I see your flannel fixation didn’t fade away with the nineties,” he joked. Micah always used to joke when he was nervous, clearly the habit hadn’t faded away with time. Micah stared down at the ground, glancing at his shoes, unsure what else to say.

“And I see you’re still desperately trying to audition to be a J Crew model,” I shot back.

Micah snagged his luggage off of the luggage carousel and laughed. “At least my entire closet doesn’t make me look like the Brawny paper towel guy.”

“You know the flannel jokes can only get you so far.” I grinned for the first time in days.

“Keep telling yourself that, Ben.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” I admitted as we walked into the parking garage. I found my ticket and my car, and popped the trunk tossing Micah’s suitcase inside with ease.

“Of course, let me know if you need anything these next couple of days.” Micah locked eyes with me, seeming surprisingly selfless — he’d never been one to offer a helping hand. Yet, he did fly down here with less than a 24-hour notice, so maybe he’d matured with age … or maybe fatherhood was getting to him. I almost chuckled at the thought of Micah Carson, star on the rise, tackling parenthood. Sure, Micah could show up and offer condolences and maybe babysit once or twice, but did he really have what it took to raise a family? Did he understand how big of a commitment raising a family, raising a toddler was?

“I’ll definitely let you know.” I said. “Ross is at Lindsey’s friends’ place right now, but we’ll need all the help we can get.”

Micah nodded, staring out the passenger side window absentmindedly.

“Where am I taking you anyway?” I asked. “Are you staying at your mom’s? She still lives around here, right?”

“Yeah, she lives in the same house that I grew up in, but I’m crashing at a hotel tonight. She doesn’t know that I’m here. I mean, she saw that Lindsey passed and she called to check up on me, but I told her I was on an acting retreat. She doesn’t know about Ross, either. I never told her that I was Lindsey’s donor.” He sighed and sank his face down into his hands, rubbing his eyes.

My hands gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “What do you mean she doesn’t know about Ross? Are you ashamed of him? You’ve been here for five minutes and you’re already deadbeat dad of the year,” I snapped.

I knew that was a low blow but I could already feel the anger seething through my body. What was Micah’s problem, anyway? And why did it take Lindsey’s death to force him to meet his own kid?

Micah winced, visibly hurt from my comment. “I—Ben, no it’s not like that. I’m not ashamed of Ross, it’s just I. . .” he stared down into his lap refusing to meet my eyes.

“My relationship with my mom is complicated. She would kill me if she found out that Lindsey and I had a kid together and neglected to tell her. I’m not ashamed of Ross, that’s the last thing I am. I’m thrilled that I get to be in his life, in whatever capacity that is comfortable for both of you. It’s just, this is a lot for me to process right now and I didn’t want to add my mom critiquing my non-existent parenting skills to this mess. I mean, shit, no it’s not a mess it’s just—” while he blabbered he wiped his hands on the seat of his pants anxiously.

“Complicated?” I suggested, keeping my eyes glued to the road.

Micah nodded. “Besides my mom isn’t the most maternal person on this planet. At this point, she’s 75% chenille and criticism. I just think I need to tell her this when we’re not trying to plan everything, you know?”

“Lindsey could never stand your mom,” I offered up as an agreement.

Micah laughed. “Yeah, Linds was just mad because my mom caught us sneaking wine coolers after the homecoming dance sophomore year and she called Lindsey ‘Lindsey the lush’ to her face every time she saw her after that.”

I tried to keep from laughing but ended up snorting. “That’s kind of great, I wish I’d thought of that.” We sat in traffic in silence, my phone buzzed. It was Lindsey’s friend, Ella.

“Hey, do you want Ross to stay with me for tonight?”

I thought for a moment, on one hand I didn’t want to disrupt Ross’ already tenuous routine, but I was also exhausted, and Ross loved “Auntie Ella.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Of course, I’ve missed the little guy. Besides, I heard Micah Carson is in town ;)”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think you know …” Lindsey and her friends had been constantly teasing me about my, in their words, gigantic throbbing crush on Micah Carson since freshman year of high school but I would rather eat wood chips than admit that they were right in the slightest.

“It’s not like that! He’s just in town for Lindsey’s funeral and so he can meet Ross.”

“Sure, Ben. Just have fun tonight, okay? You deserve it. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

“Make sure he gets to bed by nine, his sleep schedule’s been all messed up.”

“He’ll be snoozing by nine on the dot, now go get ‘em tiger”

“Who’s that?” Micah asked.

“Oh, it’s Ella Davis. She told me Ross could stay with her tonight if I wanted, you know, to have a night to myself.”

“Well, what’d you say?” Micah asked.

“I said it was fine. Do you want to maybe come pick him up with me tomorrow? So you can meet?”

Micah nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that. But, won’t it like, overwhelm him? I have no idea how toddlers work.”

“Nah, he’s pretty friendly.”

“Okay, um, did you tell him …. does he like know, that he has a dad? That I’m. . .” Micah trailed off looking stressed.

“He’s kind of overwhelmed right now, so I just told him that you were my friend. We can figure out when and how to tell him together, I’m just as lost as you. I googled ‘how to tell your nephew his sperm donor/ dad is in town’ this morning, but nothing came up.”

Micah laughed nervously. “Alright, that sounds do-able. I can do friend, I can be a friend, it just might take me a couple weeks to get used to being …”

“A dad?” I finished.

Micah nodded.

“So, what are you doing tonight?” Micah asked, quick to change the subject.

“What?”

“Now that you’re free, do you have plans?”

I shook my head no, this was the first free moment I had to myself in over a week.

“Well then, do you want to go grab a drink? It’s almost seven and at this point my options are: terrible hotel movie or spring the news of my love child on my mom and I’d prefer neither. Besides, if anyone deserves a drink … it’s you.”

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel thoughtfully. “I mean, I guess we could grab a drink at Redd’s.”

“Let’s go then.”

The bartender hollered the minute Micah and I walked through the door. “Well if it isn’t Mr. Hollywood himself!”

Micah grinned sheepishly. “Hey, Clyde,” he mumbled. Clyde had been tending bar at Redds since the mid-eighties, it was a running joke that Clyde knew everything about everyone in town.

He turned to me and put down the glass he was cleaning. “Ben, I heard about Lindsey. I’m so sorry. Drinks are on me tonight, okay?”

“Thank you for your condolences, but you don’t need to do that,” I said.

“No, Ben, I insist. Lindsey was a goddamn light. What do you say to doing some shots in her honor?” He turned and grabbed shot glasses off of a shelf behind him. “What was Lindsey’s favorite?” He asked, surveying the bottles of liquor that decorated the bar.

Micah chuckled. “Depends on the night, but I remember Fireball being a hit back when we were in college.” I laughed at the memory of Lindsey puking in the bushes in front of my parent’s house during her first summer home from college. It was the Fourth of July, and Micah had returned from a triumphant run as John Adams in the freshmen theater department production of 1776. So, he insisted that we all do shots of Fireball for the sake of patriotism.

“Micah, no one can stand Fireball after you ruined it for all of us. The Fourth of July still makes me queasy.”

“Fine then, Jameson. Wasn’t that Lindsey’s favorite?” I nodded, Lindsey was a whiskey girl through and through, fiery and tough. Clyde poured shots for all of us, I raised mine to my lips.

“Wait,” Micah said. “We need to make a toast. To Lindsey, a wonderful friend, wife, and mother. Also, the only reason I survived high school.”

Clyde nodded. “To Lindsey. Sweetest patron in this goddamn bar, thinking about her wedding still chokes me up.”

I wanted to say something, talk about how Lindsey was a great sister, even if she was a pain in the ass, or how cool it had been to watch her be someone else’s mom, but I just remained silent and clinked my glass, relishing in the burn of the whiskey as it hit the back of my throat. Soon, at the encouragement of Clyde and the rest of the bar once they realized that I was the brother of the deceased, one shot turned into two, then three, then a round of IPAs, then four. Meanwhile, Micah and I reminisced talking about high school and the differences between our hometown and L.A.

“I hate to admit it, but L.A. is pretty petty. I mean, some people are there because they want to act, but most people are there because they want to turn their undeniably boring life into a reality T.V. show.”

“That sounds horrible.” I slammed my hand down onto the bar for emphasis.

“People shouldn’t be so fake all the time? What’s the point? Just be … real, I dunno. Bartender, get another round!” Clyde nodded conspiratorially and grabbed some more shot glasses.

“Um, Ben, maybe this round could be water? Y’know, we gotta stay hydrated,” Micah suggested gently. He tentatively put his arm on my shoulder, and I quickly shook it off.

“Micah, we’re good. Everything’s good. This bar is good! Just because you can’t hold your liquor doesn’t mean that you have to ruin the party for the rest of us.” I was slurring a little bit but I didn’t want to give Micah the satisfaction. Clyde brought over the shots but quickly put them away once he saw the look that Micah was giving him.

“Micah, what’d you do that for?” I asked indignantly.

“I’m calling us an Uber, it’s 1:30 A.M. and we have to be up in the morning. Besides, I don’t want Ross’ first memory of his dad to be me puking in the trash and asking if someone could dim the lights.”

I sharply turned around. “We? Who the hell is ‘we?”

“I mean, you still want me to meet Ross tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that we’re … a we. You don’t know Ross, you never did. You weren’t there for Lindsey when she had Ross or when Ross had his first steps. You were nowhere to be found, it took Lindsey literally dying for you to care about your son, and that’s just messed up. You’re already a terrible father.” I lashed out while Micah lead me out of the bar and into the cool night air. He sighed and gestured for me to sit down beside him on the curb, obviously hurt.

“We’re not a we. I should just drive home. Give me my keys.” I lunged and tried to grab my keys out of the pocket of Micah’s skinny jeans, accidentally pawing at his crotch.

Micah leaned back. “There’s no way in hell that I’m letting you drive. You smell like a distillery. I told Clyde that you would come pick your car up in the morning. Just, come on.”

“Fine,” I mumbled.

“You know, I loved her, too. You’re not the only person grieving here. And yeah, maybe I could have been involved in Ross’ life a little earlier but that doesn’t mean that I never wanted to be involved. Lindsey and I had talked about it, we wanted to wait until Ross was a little older, so he could understand the whole situation better. She sent me pictures every year. I loved her and Ross, and I still do. And I know this is hard.”

I nodded. Micah lead me into the back seat of a stranger’s Honda. I slumped against the window.

“Rough night?” the driver asked.

Micah laughed humorlessly. “You could say that.”

“It’s so fucking hard,” I mumbled.

“What?” Micah asked.

“This, it’s all so fucking hard.” I said, exasperated.

Micah nodded. “I know it is. This has been hard for me, too. But you don’t have to go through this alone, okay? I’m here to help, that’s why I flew here.”

I sighed in agreement, staring at the passing cars and wondering if Micah meant it, or whether Hollywood would come calling once more.