Page 297 of Rush

Maybe he’s tired of my shit.

The thought slices through me. I stare down at the phone like it betrayed me. My fingers tremble.

Pick up. Please. Just pick up.

Still nothing.

I check the time. Cambodia is fourteen hours ahead. Middle of the night. Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe he’s off-grid.

I pace in slow loops. The phone sweats in my palm. I hover over his name again.

I hitcall.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

“Hey, you’ve reached Broderick Schwartz. Please leave your message and I’ll get back to you.”

I sigh.

“Hey…how’s things, stranger. You’re probably off-grid in, like, the jungle or something. Which I only know because Philippa mentioned it—not because I’m stalking you on satellite maps or anything. Ha. Anyway…give me a call.”

I hang up. Stare at the screen.

Call again.

I walk over to the piano. Hit three random keys—discordant, sharp.

Sit. Try again.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

“Hey, you’ve reached Broderick Schwartz. Please leave your message and I’ll get back to you.”

Ugh.

“Okay, sorry, that last message was…weird. So weird. I got your gift. It’s really sweet. Creepy? No, no—it’s sweet. Probably sweet. We should talk. Not in a weird way. Just—no pressure, call me?”

I snap the lid of the music box shut, then open it again.

Dial again. My leg bounces as I move to the window. Pull the curtain aside.

Please pick up. Please pick up.

“Hey, you’ve reached Broderick Schwartz. Please leave your message and I’ll get back to you.”

Still nothing.

“Hey. Me again. Shocking, I know. It just dawned on me that you’re probably, like, busy…saving the world. Doing some Broderick Schwartz humanitarian magic. I wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. I care about you. So much. You’re one of my best friends. And I hate how things happened between us. I hate how I left things.”

It beeps reaching the message limit.

I drag his hoodie off the chair. Pull it over my head. The sleeves swallow my hands. I tug at the cuffs.

Dial again.

“Hey, you’ve reached Broderick Schwartz. Please leave your message and I’ll get back to you.”

“Yup. Hi. Still me. I don’t want you to think I regret what happened between us. Because I don’t. It was—amazing. You’re amazing. You’re…super great in bed. And like…a really generous lover. Like…Olympic level. And I’m just…fucked up. And you’re so good and kind and…ugh, what the fuck am I even saying. Okay. Okay. Sorry. I gotta go. Call me? Maybe? Or don’t. No—do. Please do.”