Page 84 of Familiar Things New

Shutting his eyes, Andrew gripped the banister with his free hand and said, “I’m not . . . feeling well.”

“You’re not feeling well enough to indulge in your passion, but you’re feeling well enough to cook for me?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. When Andrew stayed quiet, she came over to him and covered his hand with hers. “Andrew, is everything all right?”

It took a moment before he could make himself answer. And even though he’d have liked to, he knew he couldn’t lie.

“Not really,” he replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Just know, you can always come to me if you need to,” she said, patting him twice. “For anything, really. Medicine or tea or”—she tilted her head in such a way that she caught Andrew’s eye—“talking.”

Andrew’s stomach seized. He could never.

“Do you want me to send Edwin up to you when he arrives?” she asked.

“He, uhm, he left. Earlier.”

“Left? It’s only nine. He must have gotten here very early, then. Unless . . .” She raised a curious eyebrow. “Did he spend the night?”

Andrew huffed a laugh, one that was laden with bitterness. If only.

“No,” he said. “Nothing like that. He came to give me a suit. He made one for me.”

“He made one for you? Oh, I had no idea Edwin possessed that sort of talent. Hm, I wonder . . . is that where I know him from? Did he have a shop in Albany before? Something on North Pearl?”

“His father did,” Andrew said, smiling a bit. “Edwin must have learned a lot from him. The suit he made for me, it’s . . . perfect.”

Oh, God, what had he done to push Edwin away?

Mrs. Meyer patted his hand some more, and only then did Andrew remember where he was and whom he was with and that he ought to explain the reason why Edwin might not visit anymore.

He swallowed thickly.

“Anyway, I, uhm, well, I . . . I think I upset Edwin somehow. Just some kind of social misstep on my part, I’m sure.” He faked a light chuckle. “You know me, clumsy Andrew.”

Mrs. Meyer said, “I can’t imagine you upset him that much. He’ll come back tomorrow, and everything will be right as rain between you.”

“Hopefully,” Andrew said, the word sounding hollow. “Anyway, I need to head upstairs now. To rest.”

“Feel better, Andrew,” she replied warmly.

Andrew managed a nod before trudging back up the stairs. Once he was in his bedroom, he collapsed onto his knees. After setting the sign for his business aside, he buried his face in his hands, and he struggled to hold back tears as the memory of the morning with Edwin replayed in his mind with painful clarity.

And then, as though that memory alone was enough to breach the hull, his other, most painful memories—of his mother and little siblings, and of his friend Theodore, too—rushed in, flooding his mind.

Theodore’s hardened expression after Andrew had confessed to him that he liked men.

Disdain in his mother’s eyes when she told him to leave.

One last look in the backyard, where his youngest siblings played, blissfully unaware that they’d never see their eldest brother again.

Gritting his teeth, Andrew choked back a sob, and a few tears fell from his eyes.

“Oh, uhm, perhaps that wasn’t . . . wise of me to say out loud, was it?” Andrew said to Theodore, huffing an uncomfortable laugh.

Even in his muddled, inebriated mind, Andrew realized immediately what an egregious misstep he’d made.

Theodore proceeded to clear his throat, and his severe expression caused Andrew’s stomach to fold in on itself. After a moment’s pause, Theodore took out his pocket watch, presumably to check the time, though his eyes never left Andrew’s, even to look at the watch’s face once he clicked it open.

“It’s late, Andrew.” Theodore slammed the lid shut. “I have to go.”