The silence. Couldn’t stand it sometimes. It reminded me of my childhood.
“Derek…What’s going on?” Myles asked, softly.
Myles’s voice is delicate and yet, there’s something steely in it. I enjoy his slight accent, too. My father had a bit of an Irish brogue.
“Well, uh,” I stammered, sitting up, “my doctor forced me to take a sick leave.”
“What? Why? What’s happening? I thought your symptoms were under control.”
“It’s nothing life threatening, okay? Just—I have to stay home and take it easy or something.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when I was in Japan?”
“Because you were in Japan, Myles, getting over Ethan, trying not to throw yourself into a nuclear reactor.”
He snorted a laugh. “Japan’s kind of a nice place to be heartbroken, actually.”
“So I’ve heard.” I sighed. “I miss you. You were gone a long time.”
“I miss you, too, agra.”
Myles has many little Gaelic terms of endearment for me.