Chapter 56: Sorry

Zariah

“Hi, Greg,” I say, and my voice catches in my throat on the last word, his name. “How are you?”

“Shi*ty,” is his one-word response.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days.”

He nods, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his faded jeans, his favorite pair, the one with the hole in the left knee. “I know. I wasn’t ready for that yet.”

“Are you ready to talk now?” I assume he is or else he wouldn’t be here, waiting for me, but one can never tell with Greg.

“I think so,” he says. “Do you wanna go home and take a shower first?”

In the past, I might’ve teased him, joking about not wanting to take a shower–with him–but I can’t do that anymore. Obviously. “I’m okay,” I tell him. “Unless you think I stink.”

That gets a little chuckle out of him. “No, you don’t.” I am glad to finally hear him laugh again. It’s been way too long.