Chapter 5

Ben O’Cleary

As I got off the train, I drew a deep breath and welcomed the feeling of stepping into a new world, far away from the Loop and Trace Kalecki. Elmwood Park might as well have been in another state. There were no skyscrapers, no dark alleys or gangways, no hordes of tourists and commuters. The streets were wider, everything was more open, and the community clung to their corner of the world being a village. A suburban village comprised mostly of single-family homes with two cars in the driveway.

I’d lived like that once upon a time.

So had Ma, for that matter. Now she was stuck in a tiny top unit of a two-flat.

A new day had started, and the people heading to work stood on the platform like zombies with their noses in their phones, waiting for the train to take them into the city.

Since it’d been a few days, I stayed on the north side of the tracks and headed east on Grand Avenue. There was no use in going directly to Ma’s, ’cause she’d just send me to the store with a list right away. Always similar items. Alvin had his food issues, and Ma cooked according to the season.

Besides, I needed to arrive with something. If I came empty-handed and delivered a bullshit lie about my car, Ma would clutch her pearls and go full-on neurotic on me, and she had enough health problems.

I crossed the street at Frank’s Barber Shop and hoped Luisa was working this morning. She let me use Ma’s senior discount without my even asking for it. She knew what it was like. Our situations were similar; only, she and her son could live with her old man.

Technically, I could stay with my mother too, but… No. I knew what would happen. I knew Ma. I knew what kept her up at night.

The parking lot at Caputo’s was pretty empty this early in the day, and that boded well for me. The mornings were the best if you wanted to grab produce and bread on clearance.

That’d be an irresistible dating profile for Trace to swipe past. Check me out, digging for quarters and buying stale bread.

A familiar tightness spread across my chest, and I let out a breath.

My phone didn’t even support swiping. I wasn’t on social media or whatever the kids used to avoid people out in the wild.

Once inside, I grabbed a basket and started with the hunt for cheap bread. Thanks to Trace sharing his win with me yesterday, I wouldn’t have to touch my emergency fund of a whopping twenty bucks in my bank account.

I frowned to myself as I checked the shelves with plastic bags filled with about-to-expire rolls and loaves, and I decided against it. Ma had oil, salt, and baking powder. I’d buy flour instead. Either Ma could bake something, or I could whip up some pan bread. Alvin liked that anyway.

In the produce section, I had better luck. I found carrots, onions, and celery on clearance, and they were running a promotion on potatoes and the kind of apples Alvin preferred. I scratched my forehead, running the numbers. Six potatoes, two onions, one pound of carrots… I knew we had stock cubes left. If I’d had enough battery, I would’ve called and checked if Ma had cornstarch. On the other hand, you could thicken a stew with flour too, and I was already buying that.

That settled it.

I walked past the meat, ’cause that wasn’t fucking happening, and I went down the aisle with canned goods.

I wondered if I could buy pretzel sticks and maybe some store-brand Nutella…

No. Fuck no, I’d be pissed at myself for a whole week if I did.

For the same amount of money, I could get several of those cheap frozen pizzas Alvin loved. It wasn’t fucking pizza, but they were a buck fifty a pop, so I wasn’t going to deny him.

* * *

Half an hour later, I was back on the other side of the tracks, and I walked up the path to the two-flat where Ma and Alvin lived. I spotted Alvin in the window, and he waved at me.

I smiled and waved back.

My little neighborhood watch. He demanded to keep his computer close to the window so he could look outside whenever he wanted to.

He bolted from his chair, and I headed inside and up the stairs.

I fucking hated only seeing him once or twice a week. It was like this every time I was out of a job.

Winter couldn’t be over fast enough. I was so done. I had built up a decent network over the years, and they always called me when they needed extra help. But this time of year…? I was lucky if I racked up a week’s pay in a month.

I remembered when contractors and construction workers were drowning in work. But tax hikes, larger companies leaving the city, expensive improvements in safety protocols, the fucking economy, and higher cost of living were all factors killing our industry. Productivity had never been lower, and I couldn’t recall a worksite in the last decade where work hadn’t stopped at some point because of a shortage or budget issue.

I’d tried to branch out, but my résumé was hardly impressive these days. Suits wanted to see degrees and shit like that. Now, I could point out a house and say I’d led the entire project, from blueprints to the passing of the inspection, but did they care?

Jagoffs.

I’d been the family plumber and electrician since my early twenties. I’d learned along the way because that was what you fucking did. Or used to. I was all right under the hood of a car too, and I’d installed more AC units than some fresh-out-of-school punk with a slip that said he’d passed a class.

I blew out a breath and shook all that off for now. I was going to spend the day with my boy. The work hunt continued tomorrow.

I knocked twice, and Alvin ripped the door open immediately and lit up. Hell, so did my heart. I missed him every day I didn’t get to see him.

“Hi, Dad! Oh—you have a new coat.”

And you’re still in pajama bottoms.

I smiled and wrapped an arm around him. “Hey, small fry.” I squeezed him tight and kissed his temple, ignoring a twinge near my wound. “You’re usually dressed by now.”

He nodded and stepped back, and he adjusted his glasses. “I decided to sleep in after I went to bed at 4:17.”

My brows lifted. “Let me guess. You found a whole new library of videos to watch.”

He laughed and nodded again. “You know me!”

I sure did. Wars could start and end right outside on the street, and he wouldn’t notice if he’d found the perfect videos of tropical waters rolling in over a pristine beach.

Alvin was a 5’4” mini-me in appearance, but that was where the similarities ended, and I wasn’t just talking about his diagnoses. His entire world existed on the internet, and he had three obsessions. Fish, ocean videos, and bath bombs. Everything could be traced back to his love of water, whether it was the creatures that lived in the ocean, how it moved, looked, or how it reacted to certain chemicals and components.

Speaking of bath bombs.

I dug through the bag from Caputo’s and held up a box of baking soda. He instantly gasped and grabbed it, but I wasn’t done. I’d found purple food coloring for him too.

“That’s the second-best brand. Thank you, Dad!”

“You’re welcome.” I smiled to myself as he ran off, rambling about how he was gonna make a new video for his followers.

My son had followers. Followers who enjoyed watching someone take apart bath bombs in water.

I didn’t understand it, but as long as he was happy.

“Are you gonna hide out in the hallway all day, sweetie?” Ma called.

I shrugged out of my coat. “You want me to get snow on the carpet?”

After removing my boots and hanging up my coat and beanie, I left the hallway with the groceries and spotted Ma on the couch in the front room. Wasn’t a whole lot else she could do here but watch TV and knit. It was a 500-square-foot one-bedroom apartment, and she’d given Alvin that bedroom. He’d built a shrine to his water-related hobbies, and Ma had her shrine to cats out here. Paintings and cross-stitch art of cats cluttered the walls, and knickknacks filled the entertainment unit.

I dipped down and kissed her cheek. “How are you, Ma?”

“Eh, same old, but I can’t complain.” She eyed the grocery bag and put away her knitting shit. “You’re early today. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I took the day off.” I moved to the other end of the room, where the kitchenette took over. “Fuckin’ car broke down last night, so I had to get it towed.”

At one point, I’d hated lying to her. I’d felt like shit every time.

Now it was my normal.

“Oh no, what happened? Where is it now? How are you gonna get to work?” As expected, Ma went straight to worry. And at the age of eighty, she was like most old people. They couldn’t let shit go.

“It’s gonna be fine, Ma,” I assured her, unloading the groceries on the counter. “It’ll take me a while to fix it up, but Garrett had space in his garage. Relax.”

Give me a few months, and then I’d say the car was a piece of shit and that I’d buy a better one soon.

When it came to my mother, everything was about cushioning the blow. No, I wasn’t unemployed—I was taking the day off, they were cutting my hours a little, I was starting another project soon, they had to let me go but referred me to a better place. It was all good. Same with my living situation. When shit got really bad, I stayed here for a week or so, and then a new place magically turned up, at least to her knowledge. Right now, she thought I was staying with Garrett, a friend from high school, while I waited for my move-in date to a garden unit close to a job I didn’t have.

I could handle her fretting about flooding and rodents. What I couldn’t take—and what her blood pressure couldn’t take—was me in a shelter or out on the streets.

“Did you take your insulin?” I asked and opened the fridge. I grabbed the creamer, then two mugs from a cupboard.

“Yes, yes, Alvin reminds me every morning,” she said. I could tell by the look on her face that she was still stuck on the car problem. “How are you gonna get to work?”

I gave her a pointed look.

That made her jut her chin, all stubborn. “I don’t like you taking the train, Ben. Catherine has shared so many horror stories—muggings, assault, some people p…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Some pee.”

I chuckled. She could be too funny.

Train cars that reeked of piss, shit, and bleach were the least of my concerns.

“Go sit down, Ma. You got nothing to worry about.” I poured us coffee and figured it was best to change the topic. “You think you can make a stew of what I bought?”

“Of course, of course. Was Luisa working?”

I nodded and handed her a mug.

“Good. How much do I owe you?”

“Not a damn thing.” I didn’t want her money. It was bad enough she was forced to stay in this sham of an apartment.

Ma scowled up at me. “You know how to annoy me, son.”

I smirked into my mug and took a sip.

She huffed on her way over to the couch. “You spend too much money and never let me pay you back.”

Bullshit.

She took care of Alvin when I couldn’t. She gave him a roof over his head and offered stability when my life was chaos, which…it’d been for years now. Years of temporary gigs—some semi-permanent too, but life was too expensive to cover everything. Alvin had an anxiety medication that wasn’t covered by his insurance, and neither were his sessions with a psychologist. Because it had to be Rose, a woman he’d been seeing since he was a kid.

You couldn’t just tell an autistic person they had to see another psychologist when it was so fucking hard for them to click with someone. And he knew better than anyone which meds worked for him. If he claimed the one that was covered by his insurance made him nauseated and feel too drowsy, he wasn’t lying.

I leaned back against the counter and sipped my coffee in silence, and Ma went back to knitting. Though, her silence never lasted long.

In the meantime, I enjoyed the quiet and made a mental list of people to call tomorrow. I should charge my phone right away too, because I never knew when Garrett would call. He’d been where I was, so he knew. I was the first guy he called if something opened up at his scaffolding company.

What killed me wasn’t work, to be honest. In the winters, sure, shit got tougher. But the worst was all our expenses. It just felt like I could never get off the ground. Last year, I’d had a full-time job for six months, and I’d still struggled to pay rent at a tiny place I’d shared with a friend of a friend. I had to give it up. Even the months we got welfare or food stamps or…whatever the fuck. Assistance wasn’t free. It didn’t come without conditions, and Alvin couldn’t handle conditions. If I wanted to keep him happy, that meant the medication that helped his anxiety, it meant his staying in this shitty place, it meant three therapy sessions every month, and it meant food that was often more expensive because of his issues.

The alternative was out of the question, because I’d witnessed my son’s panic attacks. I’d seen the sheer fear and hurt in his eyes. I’d held him while he’d trembled and hyperventilated.

The smallest surprise in his day-to-day routine could set him off.

I suppressed a sigh and took another swig of my coffee.

“Something’s troubling you, sweetie.”

I grunted quietly, finished my coffee, and put the mug in the sink. “Same shit as usual. I wanna get yous outta here.”

With the rent she paid, she could afford a bigger place somewhere else, one we could share. We could have more stability, and I could have a home base. Not knowing where I’d sleep tomorrow was fucking exhausting. It was time-consuming, too.

Ma hummed and reached for another color yarn in her yarn basket. “While you work on that, I’ll keep myself happy by blaming your father we ended up here in the first place. May he rest in hell.”

I grinned and scrubbed a hand over my jaw.

She was a firecracker, my ma.

An unbidden vision showed me Ma and Trace in the same room, and I just knew they’d get along.

Goddammit.

I couldn’t think about Trace. It fucking hurt.

I’d recognized it from the beginning, but not the extent. I’d seen that he was one of those people who made me feel shit more intensely. I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t know why it happened, only that Trace was the first one I’d also felt a mad attraction toward.

The soup kitchen service had made things clear to me. I’d caught myself staring countless times. His fucking eyes, his smirks, his softer grins, his sense of humor…

His body.

I shook my head to myself, at myself, and decided I needed something to do. I was hungry, so maybe some pan bread would work. But first, I went back into the hallway to charge my phone.

I had to get back to Angie too. She was worried and wanted to know my plans now that I’d lost my damn car.

Precisely two family members had stood by me the day I’d told everyone I was gay—my mother and my cousin. Angie was also the one who knew everything about my sad excuse for a life. She worked nights at Northwestern in the city, and she had a parking spot there. So that was where I’d parked most nights to sleep, and then I drove her home in the morning.

“Dad?” Alvin called.

“Yeah, bud?” I paused outside his room and pushed open the door a foot or two.

No need to worry about his two fish tanks. He kept them in pristine condition, one with fish and the other with colorful shrimp. And he actually made some money off the shrimp when they reproduced. A few times a year, he sold some off and made a couple hundred bucks each time. The blue ones were the rarest.

He looked over his shoulder. “Can you watch this video, please? I’m wondering why it doesn’t have as many views as I usually have.”

Fuck. I opened the door wider and stepped in, and I was already scrambling for what to tell him. I knew fuck-all about this computer shit and the social media world. I did know he was popular. He had a large following of nearly two thousand people all over the world.

I joined him at the computer and dropped my hand to his neck, rubbing it gently.

He pushed play on the video.

It seemed to be the same kind of video he always posted. He’d claimed Ma’s bathtub and sink weren’t white enough, so he’d bought a white enamel basin that he used. He had a tripod for his phone too, and it was angled directly over the basin as he broke apart a bath bomb in the water. This one was dark blue and had something sparkly in it.

I’d learned that the sound was important. Something-something ASMR. It was soothing or relaxing to some with similar disorders—autism and ADHD and the like.

“I usually have three times as many views,” he said.

I could throw out a word I’d heard him use many times. I cleared my throat. “Could it be an algorithm issue? The video looks great to me.”

He tapped his chin and eyed the screen pensively. “They do change those a lot.”

I wouldn’t know. It was gibberish to me. Angie, on the other hand. She knew this stuff. She helped him from time to time.

She’d helped me too, because I’d been a train wreck when I’d given him the computer for his birthday four or five years ago. I’d imagined him getting scammed and lured into the dark corners of the internet. Then Angie had installed and activated all kinds of blocks. She said it was common for parents of young children—but she’d gone the extra mile with software that let me restrict his use further.

“I think the next one will be popular,” Alvin said firmly. “I’m doing the rainbow colors again.”

“That sounds good. People love a rainbow.” I didn’t know what the fuck I was saying. I was just happy that he was happy. We were going on two weeks without a panic attack, and that was all that mattered to me. To minimize his stress and find a balance between avoiding triggers and overcoming them.

I let him get back to his videos, and I wandered over to the tanks. It looked like Molly was pregnant again. I bent over and took in all the greenery and fish and rocks. He loved to redecorate but refused to use decorations that didn’t belong in the ocean. No colorful hideouts made of plastic. It had to be sturdy little rock caves, tiny logs, and plants.

I couldn’t lie; it had a calming effect on me too to watch them swim around in there.

“Is Molly expecting more babies?” I asked.

“Yes! Any day now.” Alvin wheeled his chair over to me and adjusted his glasses. “I’m gonna prepare the breeder box today. As you know, she likes to eat her young.”

That damn Molly.

She did serve her purpose, though. Alvin could count his friends on one hand, and one of them was Paulie, who ran the local pet store where Alvin bought feed and whatnot. There was no money in the aquarium fish my boy liked, but he did have a deal with Paulie. If Alvin supplied Paulie with baby fish fry, Alvin received discounts and occasionally free feed.

I called that a good hobby, one that almost paid for itself.

Even if it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have objected. He asked for so few things. Everything he loved was right here in this little room. His computer, a smartphone, noise-canceling headphones, his two tanks, ingredients to make bath bombs, and his seashell collection.

I pressed a kiss to his temple.

He quirked a grin. “You always do that.”

“Because I love you mad amounts.”

He snickered and shoved his shoulder to my arm. “Same. Clown.”

I chuckled and straightened up. “You hungry? I thought I’d make pan bread.”

He beamed. “With melted butter?”

“You know it.”

“Yes! I want fourteen thousand pieces, thank you!”

I grinned, fucking loving seeing him this way. “I’ll holler in a week when they’re all done, then.”

He laughed at that.

I left his room with a smile on my face, and Ma gave me a knowing look over the rims of her glasses. Not that it stopped her from knitting. She could do that blindfolded.

“He lights up when you’re around, dear,” she told me. “Has Rose made any progress lately?”

Unfortunately not enough, which I told her. We’d been trying for nearly a year to get him to mentally prepare for a move to a better apartment, but he just couldn’t cope with the thought. Rose had made him understand the why; the apartment was too small for the amount of money Ma paid, and we didn’t have enough space. Additionally, he could occasionally handle half a sleepover with the only local friend he had who was his age. And by half, I meant half. They got together maybe once a month, and at around three in the morning, Alvin reached his limit. He needed to go home and sleep in his own bed.

That was it.

Ironically, my failure to make a decent living for us wasn’t the main problem when we were discussing Alvin’s dream of seeing the ocean. It was his inability to sleep somewhere other than in his room.

Rose was certain my boy had developed a mental block and a case of PTSD from the circumstances that’d once put him here.

“By the way,” Ma said, “brace yourself for his latest obsession with the number fourteen thousand.”

I brought out the skillet before I glanced over at her. “What?”

She chuckled softly to herself and reached for her coffee. “He’s celebrating. He reached fourteen thousand followers the other day, and now he can’t let go of the number.”

Wait, what?

I pointed to his room as shock tore through me. “Fourteen thousand people follow him on that Instagram thing? Because he picks apart dyed baking soda and citric acid in a tub of water?”

She nodded, a hint of pride in her expression. “It’s a whole thing, sweetie. People love it.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“My son is a celebrity.”

She laughed. “You know, I said the same thing…? He just snickered and said he was a small fish in a big ocean.”

Fuck that, the Sox should invite him to throw the first pitch.

Fourteen fucking thousand?

That was insane.

Safe to say, I was gonna keep buying him food coloring. The whole goddamn rainbow.

* * *

The day went by too quickly for my liking even though we didn’t have any plans. I fixed the leaky faucet in the bathroom, I gave myself one hell of a toothache when I bit down on a piece of semi-burned pan bread, I coaxed Alvin out for a walk—because that was our deal; he needed an hour of fresh air every day—and I dozed on and off in front of the TV while Ma cooked dinner.

“Are you staying here tonight, sweetie?”

I yawned and flicked a glance at the cat-shaped clock above the TV. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m torn between wanting to head over to Garrett’s because it’s closer to work, and gluing my sorry fuckin’ ass to the couch right here.”

“Benjamin!” She shook her fist at me, never failing to crack me up. “I didn’t raise you to use that language. You curse way too much.”

I grinned lazily, only that put pressure on my tooth, and I promptly winced and rubbed my jaw carefully.

Of course she noticed. “What’s wrong? Is it your teeth? You’re taking care of them, right? You have to be mindful. I don’t need to tell you what dental abscesses and tooth decay can lead to if they go untreated.”

I couldn’t even make a grimace without her worrying I was dying. Everything could lead to death.

“Christ, Ma, it’s just my third molar,” I replied. “I’ll go to a?—”

“I’ll call Joseph tomorrow,” she said abruptly. “I want that extracted as soon as possible.” She wagged a knife my way. “I’ve been telling you for years—and you remember when you had issues with periodontal pockets back there?”

That settled it. I was going to “Garrett’s” tonight. Now she’d found something new to fret over, and it was only gonna get worse. Nothing I said mattered. She muttered to herself as she stirred the stew and added the mushrooms.

“It’s all this going back and forth,” she said, seemingly to herself. “Few months there, couple weeks at Garrett’s, new place, and now the car needs repairing too?”

I sighed and scrubbed my hands over my face.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve lost weight,” she told me.

I tried to make light of it. “It’s fine. I had some extra padding to get rid of.”

She scoffed and shook her head. She kept muttering too, and it was only a matter of time before she made the sign of the cross.

Growing up, I’d gone to Mass with my folks during holidays. That was it. Ma had visited a bit more often, but nothing like it was now. She went almost every day. Granted, she had her lady friends there; they had coffee and gossiped. But she’d definitely become more religious in her later years. Suddenly, she covered all the Catholic cultures she came from. She was a heritage cocktail of Ireland, Italy, and Poland.

“Grandma?” Alvin came out of his room, holding up his purple-dyed hands. “Do we have more vinegar?”

I felt my forehead crease. “Are you making the bath bombs in your room, son?”

We’d agreed he should do that in the bathroom.

“Only the color paste,” he promised. “I’ve come up with a new ratio that creates better sounds in the final product.”

Right. Of course he had.

“Come here, love.” Ma ushered him over and turned on the water. Then she found the vinegar and grabbed a sponge. “Nothing on your clothes?”

“Not this time!” Alvin was triumphant.

My mouth twisted. He was too cute.

While he hadn’t been able to graduate from high school, he’d always done well with science. He’d loved chemistry and physics.

“I think you should stay here tonight, Ben,” Ma said. “Don’t you think so too, Alvin? It’s gonna be dark soon, and it’s just not safe out.”

“Ma,” I warned tiredly. She couldn’t fucking keep projecting her fears on to Alvin. He had enough anxiety in his life.

Alvin chewed on his lip and flicked his gaze between us. “I can take out the air bed.”

Fucking hell. No, I shouldn’t. It was better I found a spot over by there on Harlem and Wellington. I knew of at least two apartment buildings where the locks on the front doors were broken. That way, Alvin and Ma didn’t have to rearrange everything. Because the air bed only fit in Alvin’s room, but he couldn’t sleep in the same room as me since he claimed I snored—and if we brought that up, Ma would go on another bullshit rant about how only anxious people snored. I didn’t know where she’d gotten that from, but it was her firm belief that a stress-free person slept peacefully and quietly. That, in turn, posed a new problem because Ma couldn’t get up from the air bed on her own, so that resulted in me on the couch, Alvin in the air bed, and Ma in his bed.

No. Tonight wasn’t an emergency. I would make do. I’d be back here soon enough, when my exhaustion won out, when I hadn’t eaten in twenty-four hours, and if the weather got worse. We’d just survived a snowstorm and a ten-below-zero cold spell with icy winds. Whatever we had today—I guessed around twenty-five or thirty—was practically spring for me.

* * *

A few days later, I scored a job interview that actually made me nervous, because I was qualified. In truth, I was overqualified, but it beat showing up with zero credentials to back up my experience.

Once in the city, I took the L toward River North and texted Angie.

If I dont text within the hour Ive thrown myself into the lake. Otherwise Ill see you outside McDonalds.

She responded pretty fast.

You got this! Btw, I forgot to ask how you found the listing? In the meantime, I’m gonna work on my breakup speech for tomorrow. Pretend you’re surprised.

Shit, again? She seemed to be a magnet for douchebags. After her divorce from Whatshisface almost ten years ago, she’d jumped from one to another in hopes of finding the guy she wanted to retire with. Luckily, she had some time left. She was only forty-five.

I sent her a message back.

Im mindblown. Job hunting at the library as usual. I applied an hour after the listing went live and they called right away.

The pay wasn’t great, but I’d long since stopped comparing wages to what I’d been used to when I’d had my own business. These days, twenty bucks an hour was enough to put my chest in a vise of hope, anxiousness, and dread. Plus, the company had good benefits, both healthcare and dental.

Not that I’d need the latter for a while, I hoped. I was still recovering from an extraction without local anesthesia. I wasn’t gonna complain; I was lucky Ma stayed in touch with coworkers at the clinic where she used to work, but fucking hell, that Joseph bastard was a sadist. He was long overdue for his own retirement, but I guessed helping sad fuckers like me for free was a hobby of his.

I got off the train at Grand and walked five blocks to my doom, and I couldn’t shake the emotions stirring within. I needed this job. I was fucking desperate to feel a semblance of…fuck, I don’t know, being a human? A provider?

Someone who might look decent standing next to a cocky Cubs fan who ran his own sports bar.

I blew out a breath and peered up at the building.

One of these days, I’d get over Trace. I hoped. But right now, I couldn’t get him off my mind—and it was ridiculous. I’d spent less than two days with him, for fuck’s sake. I had no business acting like a love-sick idiot. You didn’t catch feelings for someone that quickly.

Even if you did, what did it matter? I’d just been a liability, as fucking always.

I braced myself and walked through the revolving door, revealing a large lobby.

I’d been instructed to head straight to the twelfth floor where this maintenance company had their offices.

I could be a maintenance guy.

I had plenty of experience.

* * *

Deep breaths.

I walked out into the cold and zipped up my coat, and I wanted to fucking scream. Those words—we’ll be in touch, Mr. O’Cleary—still rang in my ears along with a low rushing sound, but the hope was there too. The guy had seemed so positive, and he’d even asked if I was interested, considering I was overqualified. And I’d made it abundantly clear that this job would be perfect for me. Because it was a full-time position with primarily night shifts.

I liked night shifts when I didn’t have a place to sleep.

I hadn’t expected an official yes or no today, but I could usually tell if they were likely to call back. Here, fucking nothing. The interview had gone well, and I hadn’t felt the need to exaggerate or lie about anything. Building maintenance was the little brother to construction in a way. It was just a matter of maintaining all the things I knew how to install and build. Granted, my expertise lay in single-family homes, and running maintenance in apartment complexes and office buildings was a bit different, but I knew what I was doing.

By the time I veered right onto East Ontario, I’d let Angie know I was five minutes away, and I’d decided to stay in the city tonight. Ma was still fretting over my car and living arrangements, and she was under the impression I was working late today anyway. So if I showed up, she’d just grow suspicious and more worried.

I had my survival technique for the city down pat at this point. When Angie was off to work, I’d stick around for another hour or so, and then I’d go to one of the larger McDonald’s locations in the Loop, stay there till it was nearing midnight, before I found a dark corner the world had forgotten.

Recent mugging aside, I’d managed to avoid much of the violence many faced on the streets. I had my fair share of scars, sure, but it could be a lot worse. Because my rule of thumb was avoid, avoid, avoid. Avoid crowded places, avoid locations where crime was more prevalent, avoid junkies. I could think of a single exception, and that was when the weather forced me indoors. Otherwise, I’d rather take a snow-filled gangway than a twenty-four-seven open fast-food joint around Michigan.

As I rounded the corner, I spotted Angie across the street, heading into the McDonald’s. I picked up the pace and slipped between a horde of Asian tourists and a family with four kids.

Doing a quick count of my riches, I figured I could set aside four bucks for today. I could stretch that to get me through the day.

Say whatever you want about McDonald’s, but their dollar menu had saved my ass more times than I could count. Even more so when I came here with Angie, ’cause she had the app that contained more discounts. And occasionally free fries and coffee with my purchase.

I opened the door and found Angie by the kiosks, and I went over to her.

“Hey.”

She looked up from her phone and smiled. “How did it go?” She stepped in for a hug, and I gave her a quick squeeze and kissed the top of her head.

“I wanna say good, but he was fucking unreadable,” I replied. “I guess we’ll see.”

Angie did what she always did; she said she had a good feeling about this job, and then she distracted me with shiny coupons in the app. It was just as well. I needed the distraction to keep from hoping.

Hope was the most painful poison.

“What’re you in the mood for?” Angie asked. “I have a double shift coming up, so I’m gonna go to town on a Big Mac and extra fries.”

I snorted softly under my breath, wondering why we kept up with this charade. She knew me better than anyone, and we still fed each other bullshit to spare my ego, which I wasn’t sure I had left. She always ordered way more than she could stomach, and I always ordered coffee and a cheeseburger, claiming I’d already eaten.

Today was no different, except the coupon. She got a free dessert that she’d give to me, because halfway through her meal, she would discover that she’d ordered too much food.

My one and only comfort that prevented me from feeling like a freeloading piece of shit around Angie was that she always needed help with something in her apartment.

I could understand giving up space and paying a higher rent if you really wanted to live in a good neighborhood in the city, but her building was falling apart, and the maintenance team was useless. So not only was she paying seventeen fucking hundred a month for a small one-bedroom, but the whole place was an accident waiting to happen. Door hinges coming off, leaks, crappy plumbing, and for the past year, a boyfriend.

We found a semi-private corner once we’d gotten our food, and my stomach tightened with hunger. I was gonna have to eat slowly.

“You gonna tell me what’s going on with your man?” I asked.

I emptied a packet of sugar into my coffee and removed my beanie.

“Well, at least this one hasn’t cheated,” she drawled. “He just wants to change everything about me, so I thought I’d do him a favor and end things tomorrow.”

I shook my head, half relieved I didn’t have to bother with that shit. Fucking obviously, my mind went straight to Trace, but two things could be true at once. I could crave human touch and company and still know better than to seek it out. Because I would eventually be the jagoff who got dumped for being low-hanging fruit.

“Speaking of,” she went on. “As soon as he moves out, I want you to come stay with me. I’ll get you allergy meds.”

I smiled but shook my head again. She was sweet, but I couldn’t. And her four cats weren’t the problem, even though I was allergic. Both Ma and I were, though it was only a problem for her because she was obsessed with cats. I wasn’t.

“I appreciate it, but?—”

“Here we freaking go,” she groaned. “Always with the ‘I appreciate it, but’ bullshit. When are you gonna let your family help you, Ben? Seriously.” Oh, she wasn’t done. In the meantime, I bit into my burger and chewed slowly. “I understand why you protect Alvin from these problems. I even understand downplaying them to your ma, ’cause—I mean, yeah.”

I grinned and took a sip of my coffee.

“You think this is funny?” She got a bit of an attitude there. “I text with Garrett sometimes, you know. You never stay at his place either.”

What the fuck? “Because his wife hates me,” I said in my defense. “She thinks I’m somehow gonna drag Garrett down.”

“Well, what the fuck does she know,” Angie huffed. “Whatever. You need to let us help you, Ben.”

I wasn’t getting into this with her again. All traces of humor vanished, and I couldn’t help it. My fuse ran short.

“Quit pretending like you don’t already,” I told her. “I’m sure I’ll end up on your couch at some point, but you gotta understand that my willingness to keep fucking breathing is entirely tied to my son.” I watched her face fall, which stole some of the fight in me. “I’m sorry, Angie, but my self-worth gets boosted by accomplishments and feeling like I contribute, and right now…” I sighed heavily and set down my burger.

I couldn’t make eye contact anymore, and a chunk of self-hatred settled in my stomach. It was fucking mortifying. At this rate, I’d turn fifty in a little over a year and be a goddamn nobody.

Fuck.

I scrubbed a hand over my mouth as the ringing noise in my ears came back. So did the tightness in my chest.

My eyes burned, and I clenched my jaw and pushed back my emotions. I had to get that job. I had to. I needed one chance. With a full-time job, I could at least pay for more frequent therapy sessions for Alvin. It would help Rose with what she was trying to do, and if we could move—if I could get Alvin on board…

Ma’s words from the other day whooshed by in my head, and although I couldn’t keep myself happy by hoping my old man was suffering in hell, I had no problems directing some bitterness his way. That dumb son of a bitch was to blame for that apartment. He’d fallen for a shady builder’s scam about how those apartments were going to be the luxury homes of retirees. It was a block of two-flats, and how he’d even for a second believed there would be doormen…? All kinds of shit had been promised in the brochures. Personal doorman, security, a park in the back that was reserved for residents only… And a rent to go with all those amenities.

He and I hadn’t been on speaking terms since I’d come out, so I hadn’t gotten a chance to see those brochures until they’d signed the lease. Besides, I’d been balls deep in losing Lindsey and guiding Alvin through that grief.

We’d been much better together as exes. Well, once she’d found a way to forgive me for lying to her for so many years.

She’d even defended me when my father and a couple of my uncles told me what God thought.

And none of this matters, including Dad’s dumbass decision to move in to that apartment.

It all boiled down to Alvin. He couldn’t leave. After Lindsey died, Alvin had lost his footing, and I had already been struggling to make rent.

If anyone was to blame, it was me. Because I was the one who’d sent Alvin to Ma—and my old man. He could hate me all he wanted, but he’d been a good grandfather, and they’d taken Alvin in. Temporarily, of course. My plan had been to get a better job, stay at a friend’s place, save up money, and… But then Dad had kicked the bucket too. Heart attack in the middle of the day.

I blew out a breath, grasping at fruitless ideas I’d discarded. But when I got desperate, I was ready to look for work anywhere. Grocery stores, restaurants, whatever the fuck. Except then I remembered I’d get nowhere even faster on minimum wage. If I was stuck in a store all day, I’d be dead on my feet by the time I had to go out and look for a better job, plus finding a place to sleep that night.

Alvin could kiss his therapy goodbye, his medication, and our shot at ever leaving Elmwood Park.

Angie placed her hand on top of mine but said nothing at first.

I swallowed hard.

Not for the first time, I wished I could take Lindsey’s place. She would’ve handled this much better—and without becoming homeless in the process. She’d been the better parent, she’d had way more patience, and she could work the system. She wouldn’t have quit before Alvin had gotten all his needs met.

“I’m so sorry, Ben,” Angie murmured. “I keep seeing this from my perspective, and I hate going to bed at night, knowing you’re out there somewhere.”

I nodded with a dip of my chin. “I know.”

* * *

What the fuck was I doing in this neighborhood?

In my defense, the area around the old Dearborn Station was dead at night as soon as you got away from the rows of bars and restaurants.

My breaths misted in the cold air as I got closer and closer to the Dearborn Clover. I could see the green glow of their sign from two blocks away.

It was the closest I’d been to Trace in over two weeks.

And when was I gonna forget about him, again?

If only he wouldn’t insist on haunting me in my dreams.

He’d probably forgotten me by now.

I crossed the street and decided I was just gonna take a quick look through the windows. I’d had a shitty fucking week, and evidently, I was in the mood to feel even worse. But if I got to see him, I knew it would be worth it for those few seconds before regret crashed into me.

A couple patrons came out from the bar and lit up smokes, both tipsy and in a good Valentine’s Day mood.

I didn’t know if there’d been a game on today.

I peered through the semi-tinted window. Despite that they were closing in an hour, plenty of people were in there.

Fuck me.

I saw him behind the bar.

That grin of his. He was pouring beers and talking to a customer. My stomach tightened with unease, and it didn’t feel good at all. I’d thought…maybe seeing him would give me a hit of that high. If I could just forget my reality for a few moments…

I swallowed hard and shuddered at the cold.

Jamaal was working too. Whatever he said made Trace laugh hard, and I’d seen enough. I’d gotten my confirmation. Christ, I shouldn’t have left him that damn letter. We’d fucked. That was all.

I went down the alley where we’d met under the worst circumstances. Only this time, I went deeper into the darkness. I passed the first heating vent, knowing there was one more.

If I didn’t catch a break soon, my depression was going to suffocate me. This week, it’d been one blow after another. They were clearly not getting back to me about that maintenance job near Northwestern, I was averaging one meal per day, I’d had to borrow money from Angie to cover Alvin’s therapy, and I’d fucking walked between Elmwood Park and the city three times. That was a solid four-hour stroll through sleet and icy winds. On top of that, I’d gotten a single night’s decent rest, when I’d stayed at Ma’s place.

I went to the library every day to look for work. I’d even applied to some gigs that paid way too little. I hadn’t been this exhausted in months.

Opening my coat, I pulled out the newspapers and the seat pad Angie had given me today. A foldable, foam-like pad I hadn’t seen since I was a kid when we went hiking sometimes. Then I sat down in the snow, across from the last dumpster, and pulled up my legs. I brought out my pocketknife too.

It was going to be a long night.

I burrowed into my coat as much as I could, and I zipped up to keep half my face hidden within. Then I closed my eyes and immediately pictured Trace. If I concentrated, I could pluck sensations from one of my last memories of him. The heat of his body pressed against mine, the scent of his body wash…

His big pullout couch had been ridiculously comfortable, and I’d loved being buried under the covers with him.

I remembered how his lips had brushed over my jaw, tickled my neck, and ghosted along my ear.

“You promised to deep-throat me.”

I smirked and palmed his perfect ass.

I had promised that, hadn’t I?

He sat down on my spent cock, teasing me, and kissed my neck. “If you need convincing, I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Christ, this boy.

I didn’t need convincing, but I did need recovery time. So…

I chuckled under my breath, knowing exactly what to say to bide my time. “Of course you don’t. You’ve been desensitized as a Cubs fan.”

He shot right up, surprise written all over him, before he scowled down at me. “What. The. Fuck.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

I shuddered as a harsh wind tore down the alley, and I swallowed hard and shook the images. I was a fucking dumbass for indulging in an illusion.

Clenching my jaw, I pulled forth images of Alvin instead—but what good did that do? No matter who I thought of, this putrid self-hatred took over and told me I’d never be good enough for them. I couldn’t take care of myself, much less anyone else. Not even my own son. My flesh and blood.

Goddammit.

Unshed tears burned behind my eyelids, and I fell down a familiar void, where I tried to summon the guts to fucking kill myself already. But that lasted all of a second, because every dollar mattered. I had to keep fighting to make Alvin’s life a little bit easier.

I’m sorry, son. I’m so goddamn sorry.

I sniffled and screwed my eyes shut harder—but then I heard a noise, and all the alarms sounded in my head. I shot my stare toward the mouth of the alley, relief settling as quickly as I turned wary. It was just a dog. But they came with their own set of problems. They didn’t pull a knife on you or anything; they just had sharp teeth and weren’t afraid to use them if they were hungry. Hopefully, it wasn’t a stray.

* * *

“Good night, boss!”

“Fuck off!” I grinned and shook my head. That boss name was catching on, and I hated it. But they all thought it was fun, so…whatever.

I flicked off the lights once Julie was out the door, and I grabbed my food container on my way out. Alarm activated, the place smelling like no rats would like it here—it’d been a good day. I released a breath and headed up the stairs, and I started working on how I could repay Adam.

Because fucking hell, he’d brought me back from the dead today.

The Clover was officially on Instagram, Facebook, and TikTok. The sneak had done everything behind my back, safely back in his California haven, including updating the website. Oh, and he was developing an app for us.

I dug out my keys and side-eyed the foldable bed, but I refused to let myself go down that road again. No more pity parties. No more rage rants. The motherfucker was out of my life, and he better stay gone.