“This is, like, totally not working for me,” Josh said into the telephone. He’d called from his rented room in the Hollywood Hills. “I want to break up.”
Andrew nearly swerved the Audi into the I-280 guard rail. He steadied the car just before the turn-off to the 101 Freeway. “Oh, my God! You’re really serious.”
“I know that when I had the affair with Kent that I was unhappy with what I was doing with my life. And I’ve been unhappy with our relationship and I’ve been trying to make it work and I have to trust my instincts because I know that my instincts have always been correct in the past. I have to take care of myself and I know this is the right thing for me. I –“ Josh stopped, his voice cracking.
Andrew just noticed his mouth had gone dry, his hands were shaking, and he felt the inner pit of his stomach. But he felt an inner calm descend on him. Ever since Andrew inadvertently read the e-mail from Kent, it’d been a rollercoaster with Josh. Finally, a decision. He’d reached the exit into San Francisco and pulled over into a parking space.
Had he actually found a parking space on the street in San Francisco?
“Look, Josh,” Andrew said, putting the car into park. “Why don’t you sleep on this? This seems pretty half-baked, Josh. Just yesterday you were talking about coming out to visit next week. Let’s talk about it then.”
“—I’m, I’m not coming out next week. I’ve already discussed this with my therapist and I’ve decided I’m not going to see you. Good-bye, Andrew.”
“But Josh –“ and the phone went click.
Andrew stared at the ’78 Oldsmobile Cutlass in front of him. That’s what he loved about San Francisco. Smart people, even gifted people, didn’t care much about appearances. It was all about what was inside the head. Not like Josh. Josh didn’t give a damn about what was inside his head, only his buff physique and blonde highlights.
He started up the car and drove the eight blocks to his Noe Valley house. There was a comedy club he wanted to make this evening.
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