Archive of Our Own

Truth be told, Jacob hasn’t actually found an apartment yet. But Zach had already shrunk all his sweaters, and the last thing he needed was for his presence to further enrage the man into cutting up his flannels.

He knows he’s deserving of his anger, though. If Zach had told him that he had purposefully been pissing him off in order to force Jacob to break up with him, he’d also be angry.

Perhaps not to the point of writing a one-man show about him, though.

“It’s going to be called Fleabag. With an F.”

“But there’s already an- Oh.”

So now, Jacob’s driving aimlessly through Philly, his belongings sitting sadly in the back of the car. Look on the bright side, he thinks to himself. This can be the push for minimalism you always needed.

But alas, Jacob is well aware of the fact that he lives in a world currently suffering through late-stage capitalism, and that he can barely afford a hotel room right now, much less an apartment.

Janine picks up on the first ring. “What’s up, Jacob?”

Janine is the person he was the least embarrassed to call. She’s one of two people he had the guts to tell he needed to move out after the break-up, so she would have required the least amount of explanation for his request. Doesn’t mean he’s not ready to die of embarrassment, though. “Janine, hey. Do you mind if I stay the night?”

Janine swings her door open, and Jacob is almost brought to tears by the scent of pumpkin spice and vanilla that wafts into the hallway. “Hey, Janine.”

“Jacob, hey,” she says, pulling him inside. “I hope you’re doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m good.” Jacob’s ready to throw his bag down and envelop Janine in a hug, but notices the pajamas she’s got on before he can make the move. “Going to sleep already?”

“I have to get up at five on days I go in for the district,” she says with an apologetic look. “It’s been getting easier, though.”

Probably because you’ve been going there every day. The district had told Janine that she would only have to come in three days a week, but three very quickly turned to four, and four to five. She’s been managing her weekly pop-ins to the school, yes, but she’s not getting to teach twice a week like they had initially assured her. It’s a great opportunity for her, but Jacob misses Janine at school, misses Janine at lunch. He even misses her right now, as she stands right in front of him in her own apartment. “I won’t keep you up, then,” he says with a smile they both know is forced. “Thanks again, Janine. I really owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. You covered my rent that one time, remember? You could stay the whole month if you needed to.”

I may need to take you up on that offer. “Thanks,” he decides to say instead. “I really appreciate that.”

Janine smiles at that, and Jacob can feel his frozen heart thaw the tiniest bit. “I got some blankets and pillows for the couch. If you’d like, you can stay up and watch TV, just keep the volume low.”

Jacob’s already thanked Janine twice in the last minute, so he elects to nod in understanding instead. “Goodnight, Janine.”

“Goodnight, Jacob.” Jacob lets the smile fall from his face as soon as she closes her bedroom door, fishing his toothbrush out of his bag before dumping it onto the couch. He’s just about to enter the bathroom when Janine walks out again. “Jacob, wait.”

“What’s up, Janine?” Jacob asks, leaning on the door frame. Her hair’s up in a bonnet now, her pajamas hidden under a robe.

“It’s just… I know that it’s hard to break up with your long-term partner, especially after you’ve been living together. I know that Tariq and I’s situation isn’t the most similar to yours, but if you ever want to talk about it, I promise, I’m all ears.” Janine plucks Jacob’s toothbrush out of his trembling hands, laying it carefully on the sink behind him. 

“Thank you, Janine,” he says chokingly. “Really. I really- I really appreciate all you’ve done for me.” He’s free to wrap his arms around her now, to sob into her shoulder while he bemoans all the mistakes he’s made with Zach. But instead, he steps further into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush off the sink. “We’ll talk about it later,” he promises. “When you’re not as busy with the district.”

“Oh, so never?” Janine says. It’s meant to be a joke, but with the crack in her voice and deep bags under her eyes, Jacob’s pretty sure that it’s actually closer to truth than it is fiction.

“We will talk about it,” he repeats. “Goodnight, Janine.”

When Jacob wakes up that morning, he’s already formulating the text message he’ll send to Janine when he leaves the apartment. Thanks again for letting me stay the night. I think I’ll be able to find another place soon, though, so I won’t be crashing here again tonight.

Jacob knows that he’s stupid to give up the offer of staying at Janine’s for a month rent-free, that finding a new apartment will be damn near impossible. But Jacob’s gone from feeling lonely to being downright alone, and for his own sanity, he knows that he doesn’t want to fall asleep alone, wake up alone, be alone.

Barbara greets Jacob with a kind smile when he walks into the teacher’s lounge, his cup of coffee ready in her hands. Melissa dropped out of their Action News escapades last year, but Jacob and Barbara had stuck around, letting Brian Taff fill the Jim Gardner-shaped hole in their hearts. “The coffee may not be hot anymore,” she says as he takes a sip. “For once, I was here before you.”

The coffee is perfectly warm, but Jacob recognizes the opening that she’s trying to lead with. “I spent the night at Janine’s. Her apartment’s a little farther out from the school than mine.”

“You spent the night at Janine’s?”

“Zach and I broke up.” The coffee has oat milk, creamer, and a healthy supply of sugar, but when the confession leaves his lips, all that’s left on Jacob’s tongue is the bitter taste of black coffee. “Not really feasible to share a one-bedroom apartment anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jacob.” Jacob lets himself be pulled into Barbara’s hug, laying his head on her shoulder. It’s all too tranquil, too comforting, and he pulls away when his tears start to gather in a puddle on her sweater. “Sorry, sorry,” he says as he grabs a tissue. “Didn’t mean to ruin your outfit.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, Jacob,” Barbara says, and he has to bite his lip to keep himself from telling her otherwise. “Why don’t you spend the night at my place tonight?” Barbara takes the tissue out of Jacob’s hand, her free hand gently cradling his face as she wipes the residual tears away. “Gerald’s in New York visiting Taylor, so you and I’ll have the house all to ourselves.”

“I would really appreciate that,” he says hoarsely. “Thanks, Barbara.”

The sun’s just beginning to set when Jacob’s eyes open again. He realizes with a blush that a blanket’s been tucked around him, and he throws it off, that his shoes were removed. He finds Barbara in her living room, a fire lightly burning in her hearth as she reads from a Bible on a plush lounge chair. The picture-perfect domesticity reminds him of his own childhood- spent watching perfect families on TV before his dad got home from work and broke the illusion. But now, Jacob is alone, and free to live in any illusion he’d like. That’s probably not a healthy thought, but he hasn’t got a therapist to tell him otherwise. Well, he did have a therapist not too long ago. But in Jacob’s illusion, he’s happy and healthy, and doesn’t need to worry about that right now. 

Jacob settles into the chair across Barbara, watching how her eyes slowly scale over the Bible, her lips silently reading along. “Thank you,” he says when she eventually looks up. “For the blanket. And taking my shoes off. And letting me stay the night.”

“It’s no problem, Jacob. I’m happy to help a friend in need.”

“What are you reading?”

“Just a story from the New Testament.” Barbara closes her Bible, sets it carefully on the table. “Do you follow any religion, Jacob?”

“Not really, no,” he admits. “My mom was Jewish and my dad’s Catholic, so they just kind of threw everything at me and my siblings as kids to see what stuck. I mean, sometimes I pray to God when I’m having a bad day, but it felt wrong having to choose between the two like they wanted us to. So, I chose neither and pissed them both off.”

“Well, I’m not here to convert you. Just wanted to tell you a story.” Barbara sighs, fingers tapping a beat along the side of her chair. “It’s not easy to say, but I can feel alone sometimes. All my kids are grown up and out of the house, and Gerald tries his best to visit them all whenever he can, but because of school, I can’t go with him as often as I’d like. Even when I was younger, it wasn’t uncommon for me to feel like this. But I could go to church, or read my Bible by the fire, and know that God was looking out for me, and it made me feel a little less alone.” Barbara rests her hand on the arm Jacob has draped over the armchair. “Whether or not you believe in God isn’t my concern. I just wanted to remind you that you’re never as alone as you think you are.”

“Thank you, Barbara,” Jacob says, eyes glassy from tears he refuses to shed until he’s in the refuge of the guest bedroom. “I really appreciate that.”

Jacob is woken up at the inglorious hour of eight o’clock, with an unrelenting knocking at his door. He throws on a jacket before opening it, coming face to face with a familiar redhead. “Happy Saturday, Mr. Sunshine,” Melissa says with a nefarious grin. “Pack up your things, I’m taking you back to my place.”

“Wait, what? Did Barbara ask you to take me?”

“No, but Janine’s too busy for her cooking lesson tonight, and Barbara told me you crashed here yesterday, so I figured this could be a win-win for the both of us.”

“Oh. I hadn’t known she told you I spent the night here.”

“She didn’t say anything else, if that’s your concern.” Melissa sticks her head through the doorframe, beckoning Jacob closer. “Although if you don’t mind me asking…”

“Zach and I broke up. He got the apartment.”

“Ah, jeez, I’m sorry, kid.”

Did Barbara let Melissa in? The two of them are best friends, it wouldn’t shock Jacob if Melissa had a key to her house. Was she at church? Do people go to church on Saturday?

“Earth to Jacob!”

Jacob snaps out of thoughts, ricocheting back to the conversation at hand. “Sorry, sorry, I hear you. Give me a minute, I’ll grab my things.”

“So, what are we cooking tonight?”

“I’ve decided to forgo the cooking lesson in favor of a good-old fashioned night of drinking away our sorrows.” Melissa pours Jacob a glass, generously going past the one-third-full recommendation. “You told me before that you needed help with your wine pairings.”

“I don’t see any food to pair the wine with.”

“The corner store’s open 24/7 if you want to rush down for some cheese and crackers.” Melissa finally pulls the bottle away, setting it on the coffee table. They’re sitting side by side on the couch, faced towards the television currently blaring a football game Jacob has no interest in watching. “Still looking for a place to live?”

I haven’t even started.

“Yeah, still looking. Not having much luck, though. Every vacant apartment either has super-high rent or is being turned into an Airbnb. And I definitely won’t be able to afford a house anytime soon. If ever.” 

“One word, kid, prenup. Always make sure you get the house in the divorce. No idea how I got my idiot ex-husband to agree to that.” Melissa points a quick finger at Jacob. “Make a joke about how that was more than one word, and I’m driving you right back to Barbara’s house.”

“I drove here in my own car.”

“I took it in the prenup.” Melissa passes him his glass, watching with an unimpressed look as he takes little sips, then proudly when he upgrades to proper swallows. “Feeling better?”

“I’m feeling drunker.”

“When you’re getting over a break-up, is there really a difference?”

“I can’t remember. It’s been awhile since I’ve had to deal with a break-up. Maybe that’s why I delayed it for so long.”

“Mind if I ask why you two broke up?”

“It was time. It had been time. And I got mean by the end of it.” Jacob forces himself to put the glass down, fingers itching to slam the rest of the drink down his throat. “I spent a whole day pissing him off so that he would want to break up with me. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy when I made that confession.”

“So, not a clean break-up like Gary and I had?”

“Was your break-up clean, though?” It’s a bold question, maybe even a rude one, but the wine has set free Jacob’s already-loose lips. “I mean, he proposed to you in front of your class, in front of, like, the entire Eagles team, even though he knew you didn’t want to get married again. You said it yourself, you told him that multiple times.”

“Stop being right about things, it makes it harder to be annoyed by you. And it wasn’t the entire Eagles team, just Brandon Graham and Jason Kelce. And America’s Sweetheart…” Melissa sighed, topping off her glass. “To losing our long-term boyfriends.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jacob murmurs, clinking his glass against Melissa’s. “Sorry about Gary.”

“Sorry about Zach. I know,” she says after a pause. “I know it’s hard to talk about. As my ex-husband would say, it’s hard to go back to the stove once it’s burned you.”

“I thought your ex-husband was an idiot?”

“A broken clock is right twice a day. But, you and I, we can relate in more than two ways. So if you’re looking for someone who’ll understand what you’re going through, trust me, kid, I’m here.”

“I appreciate that, Melissa.”

“I’m glad you do. All I ask is that you let me choose the wine.”

“Whatever we’re drinking tonight, it’s certainly better than what I would’ve picked out.” Zach gets embarrassed when I ask the clerk for the second-least expensive bottle, Jacob had admitted to Melissa the first time (and until today, the only time) she had invited him over to her house. Zach got embarrassed by him a lot, now that Jacob thinks about it. When he would blow their trivia leads, when he got a little too into describing composting to their friends-

It’s fine. Zach doesn’t have to get embarrassed by him anymore.

Jacob would like to say that he didn’t get drunk last night, only tipsy, but he wakes up with a blaring headache regardless. He can hear Melissa shuffling around downstairs, the click of a stove being turned on, the slamming open of cabinets. He should drink some water. He should go downstairs, help Melissa with whatever she’s cooking. He should call Barbara, thank her for letting him stay the night on Friday, maybe imply that he’d like to go to church with her one day, just to experience it. He should call Janine, ask why she missed Melissa’s cooking lesson last night, what exactly the district is keeping her so busy with. He should call Zach-

His phone starts ringing, the screen reading Ava!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She had randomly called him one Sunday in November inviting him to watch Priscilla , then the next week for Saltburn , and the two eventually fell into an unspoken agreement to keep their Sundays free for a movie at the PFS Theater. Ava being a cinephile was an unexpected but welcome surprise for Jacob, until she started grabbing his phone from him during the previews, adding an exclamation to her contact name with every movie they watched. If they kept this up, Jacob wasn’t even sure if he would be able to read her name off the screen anymore. “Hey, Ava.”

“Happy Dune Part Two day, Mr. Hill! What time are you free tonight?”

Jacob hesitates, letting himself linger in a dream world where he isn’t single, where he isn’t jumping from house to house in a desperate bid to get away from the mess he’s making of his life. “I don’t know if tonight works for me, Ava.”

“Well, I’ve already cleared out my schedule, so I’m not accepting a no.”

“It’s not that I’m not free-" Although, come to think of it, Jacob hasn’t looked over his lesson plans for next week, or graded any of his students’ assignments, or called anyone back- “But I should probably be more conscientious of my spending for the next couple of weeks. Need all I can get for a new apartment.”

“Damn, you and Zach are finally upgrading from your dingy studio above the Aldi?”

“It’s not a studio, it’s a one-bedroom apartment. And no, we’re not. I had to move out.”

“Move out?” Ava pauses, her voice uncharacteristically perturbed. “You and Zach broke up?”

“Still haven’t found a new place yet. I spent the night at Janine’s. And Barbara’s. And Melissa’s.”

“Well, tonight, you’re spending it with me. Pack up your things, Squidward.”

“I know that principals get paid more than teachers, but holy shit, I did not know you could afford such a nice place.” Jacob drops his bag on the carpet, settling into the plush bed of Ava’s guest room. “If your spare room is this nice, I can’t even imagine what your room looks like.”

“Only the lucky boys get invited back to my room. And be careful with the bedsheets, they’re silk.”

“I’m starting to think you took the principal job just so you could have an office to work in.”

“Well, I can’t host my live auctions from some boring old apartment, now, can I?” Ava says, sitting down next to Jacob. “Speaking of apartments, have any more luck finding one?”

“No, not yet.” Every time he makes the lie, it burns Jacob’s tongue worse. “Probably should’ve taken my time to actually find an apartment before I moved out.”

“I thought Zach moved in with you?”

“He did,” Jacob says, but it makes him pause. “He did move in with me. And then I moved out.”

“Why would you move out of your own apartment? Tariq moved into Janine’s apartment, and he was the one that moved out when they broke up.”

“His name wasn’t on the lease, I don’t think. Zach and I were both on it.”

“Well, if you need an apartment, and your name’s on the lease…”

“I couldn’t kick him out. I’ve done enough to him.”

“So you pushed his buttons for a day to get him to break up with you. What’s the problem with that? I do it with Iggy all the time, he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“The problem is that it’s manipulative.”

“Well, it’s still your apartment, no way to manipulate your way around that. Now, come on, if we hurry, we should be able to catch the last showing.”

is my name still on the lease?

Jacob had sent the text before the movie, shutting off his phone before Ava could snatch it away from him. He resists the urge to check it until he and Ava get back to her apartment, rewarded by the universe with a response from Zach sent only two minutes ago. As indicated by his sudden switch to capitalization, though, he clearly hasn’t forgiven Jacob yet.

Already forgetting about the life we shared together?

no of course not

just checking in that’s all

i can take my name off of it if you want

Obviously I would want my ex-boyfriend to remove his name off of the lease.

I knew you were lying about having a new apartment lined up, but trying to scope out if I want to move out so you can move back in? At least tell me you have the decency to feel embarrassed.

Jacob winces at that. Much like how he had known exactly what triggers to use against Zach, Zach could read Jacob like a lie detector. Maybe that’s why they had gone days without talking to each other- Because if Jacob told Zach that he was still happy with him, that he wanted to be with him forever, Zach would’ve known he was lying.

okay, no, i don’t have a new apartment

and yes i am embarrassed about all of this

i just wanted to get out of your hair

i’m sorry

i know i wasn’t good to you for a long time

Jacob can see the ‘read’ receipt under his text, can see the speech bubble pop up as Zach types out a response. He watches as the speech bubble appears and disappears over and over again, wishing Zach would answer, wishing he wouldn’t answer, wishing they never broke up, wishing they never even met. The speech bubble eventually disappears after a tense three minutes, and Jacob tosses his phone onto the nightstand, not even bothering to charge it as he gets ready for bed. He’s tempted to cry himself to sleep tonight, as he may or may not have been doing for the past couple of days, but he holds back. He’s heard that water can stain silk.

“Ava?” Jacob knocks on her door, pausing when he hears a grumble from inside. “Are you ready for school?”

“I thought school doesn’t start until 7:30.”

“It’s tradition to be ready for school before it starts.”

“Whatever. I’ll be ready by 7:00,” she adds after a beat.

According to Google Maps, Ava’s apartment is only a twelve-minute drive away from Abbott. It’s already 6:00, which is the time Jacob usually leaves, but if he leaves now, he’ll be leaving alone, and the pit in his stomach is telling him that being alone probably isn’t a good idea right now. So, he settles onto the couch, resolving to wait for Ava before he leaves. He finally draws up a lesson plan for his class today, ignoring how he usually finishes his lessons for the whole week over the weekend, ignoring how he can barely focus because of how tired he is.

He didn’t sleep well last night. Or the night before. Or the night before that. Or the night double before that. He’s tempted to pick a movie to throw onto the screen and call it a day, but his kids have an exam tomorrow, and he promised them that he’d hold a review session today. And he’s still got to print their exams, still got their essays from over a week ago to finish grading, still got to organize topics for them to choose from for their next project-

“Stop it,” he whispers to himself. “Don’t… just don’t.”

His therapist had been teaching him how to deal with his self-destructive tendencies when he stopped having sessions. For what is certainly not the first time, Jacob wishes he had never stopped going.

Eventually, he slams his folders shut, resolving to trust his knowledge, hoping that he’ll be able to answer whatever questions the kids ask. He won’t burn himself out now, not when his students still need him.

Would his students miss him if he left, though? Best-case scenario, they find his corniness endearing, worst-case scenario, he gets on their nerves. He’s likely not anyone’s favorite teacher, and he’s certainly not anyone’s favorite coworker. Janine’s two school days away from being absorbed into the district, Melissa and Barbara stick to each other like glue-

“Stop it,” he repeats again, louder. “Stop thinking like this.” The students at Abbott care about him. The teachers at Abbott care about him. Well, a select few do. The other middle school teachers-

“Who are you talking to, Jacob?”

Jacob jumps off the couch, commanding himself to relax as he turns to face Ava. “Sorry, just got lost in my own thoughts. Hadn’t even realized I was talking to myself.”

“Yeah, well, you were. Got so annoying that I just got up and got ready. A whole ten minutes early, if I might add.”

Jacob’s eyes swing to his phone, widening when they see the time on display. “It’s already 6:50?”

“That’s what I just said! Now, come on, you can drive me to Abbott. Iggy’s picking me up for a date after school, something about our six-year anniversary, so you don’t have to worry about giving me a ride back.”

“Sounds good to me,” Jacob says, a little bit of his tenseness melting away at the assurance that he and Ava can drive together. His hands shake as he grabs his car keys off the counter, though, and he ends up handing them to her. “Probably not safe for me to drive before I have my coffee.”

“Typical man, trying to pass off his responsibilities to a woman,” Ava says, but she still takes the keys from him. “Are you alright, Jacob? You seem jumpy today.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just been having a long week, that’s all. Thanks for checking up on me, I appreciate the concern.” Ava nods at that, but he still catches her concerned frown, a memory that burns in his brain all the way up to the walk to his classroom. 

He’s saved from being alone by Joshua, popping in early to ask Jacob when they should expect to have their essays back. To that, Jacob offers a wince, an apology for the longer-than-usual wait, and an assurance that they’ll have their grades by the end of this week. It’s a bold-faced lie, but it satisfies Joshua, who sticks around to chat until students for Jacob’s first class begin to mill in. Four years ago, the prospect of a day with nothing but a half-finished lesson plan and a classroom full of quick-witted teenagers would have sent Jacob right over the edge, but today, it’s strangely calming, and Jacob melts into the familiarity of it, internally sighing with relief whenever he’s able to answer a question, shrugging off the laughter that arises whenever he isn’t.

He follows his third class out for lunch, making his stop at the teacher’s lounge. “Good morning, Barbara and Melissa,” he says as cheerfully as he can to the two women, already in their customary chairs. “Thank you both so, so much for letting me stay the night with each of you. I really do appreciate it. And sorry for missing Channel Six today, Barbara.”

Melissa nods unevenly at that, but Barbara makes no attempt to hide her concern. “Have you found a new apartment yet, dear?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” Jacob admits, feeling the strands of the half-good day he had managed to dredge up washing away.

“You are still looking for a place, right?” Melissa asks.

“What? Yeah, yeah, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be looking?”

“I don’t know,” Melissa says with an air of carelessness that Jacob knows she’s faking. “Just checking on you, that’s all.”

“Well, thank you for checking on me.” The door to the teacher’s lounge opens again, and Jacob’s heart suddenly pangs at the sight of Gregory walking in. “Gregory, hey, how was your weekend?”

“It was good.” Jacob’s brow furrows at the curt response. It’s the answer he would’ve expected from Gregory two years ago, when he first started at Abbott, but it’s not the answer he would’ve expected now. Gregory says nothing else, just grabbing his lunch from the fridge and leaving the lounge as soon as he entered it. “What did you do to him?” Melissa asks as the door shuts behind him.

“I don’t know,” Jacob answers uneasily. “I don’t recall doing anything.” A quick pop-in to Gregory’s class after finishing his own lunch shows that he’s not in there, and there’s any number of places he could’ve gone to eat, so Jacob resolves to go back to his own classroom and text him.

is everything alright?

Are you free to talk after school, Jacob?

Jacob peers intently at the question, his panic slowly rising as he texts Gregory back.

yeah i’m free

what do you wanna talk about?

Gregory ignores his question again, instead sending a simple thumbs up emoji. Jacob pockets his phone with a frown, although he’s sure to wipe it off when his next class walks in. Thankfully, his second half of classes opt in for quiet review time, and Jacob actually manages to grade a good portion of their essays before school wraps up, tightly smiling as his final class clears out. By the time Jacob has packed up his messenger bag, Gregory finally makes his appearance. “Gregory, hey, how are you?”

“What’s going on with you, Jacob?”

The light smile Jacob had donned quickly falls. “Excuse me?”

“Spending the night at Janine’s, I understand, with Barbara, I almost understand, but Melissa and Ava?”

“How did you even find out about that?”

“Ava told me.”

“I wasn’t aware you and Ava talked about me,” Jacob replies with a clipped tone.

“Oh, what, you’re upset that I found out like that? Well, guess what, Jacob? I’m upset that I found out like that too. I’m upset that you completely ghosted on me after you and Zach broke up, and that you’re still refusing to talk to me.”

“If you were so concerned, you could’ve called me.”

“I have been calling you, but of course you didn’t realize, because you keep on doing that thing where you forget to turn Do Not Disturb off.” Gregory takes in a deep breath, unclenching his jaw. “Jacob, really, I’m not trying to attack you, I’m just concerned. What’s going on, man? Why did you leave your old apartment before you found a new one? Have you found a new apartment yet? Have you even begun looking?”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Jacob-"

“Just leave me alone!” Jacob yells, ignoring the way his brain screams at him to just tell Gregory the truth, ignoring the shocked look on the face of a man he considers his friend. “I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help. Just leave me alone.”

Gregory’s mouth settles into a frown, but he still acquiesces to Jacob’s demand, turning back as he makes his slow exit. “Jacob… I’m here for you, man.”

“Just go, Gregory.”

When Jacob finally looks up from his desk, Gregory is gone.

Jacob opens up his phone, wincing at the list of calls he unknowingly missed. One from Melissa, two from Barbara, five from Janine, eight from Gregory. He finally turns off Do Not Disturb, but his hands shake too much for him to call anyone back. The room feels stuffy, and he shoves himself away from his desk, giving the window a few hard yanks before it finally slides open. His eyes settle on the setting sun- How is the sun already setting? What time is it?

Stumbling back to his desk, Jacob flinches at the sound of his phone vibrating, a quick glance showing it’s a text from Zach. Angry Zach, vengeful Zach, hurt Zach, who has no idea what’s going on with Jacob right now, a bliss the man wishes he could return to.

Yeah, your name is still on the lease.

So, technically, it is still your apartment. If you want it back.

Jacob should call Zach. He should say that yes, he does want the apartment back. He should call everyone back, thank them all for letting him stay. He should call Gregory, apologize for snapping at him, for not telling him anything sooner.

In the end, he settles for texting Zach back.

you can have it, i’ll do what i have to do to get my name off the lease

sorry in advance that your play’s going to suck. it’s not your fault, you just got stuck with boring source material. at least you don’t have to worry about writing a second act.

An angry wind blows through the room, but Jacob doesn’t get up to close the window. If he gets up, he’s going to walk to the ATM two blocks down, withdraw as much money as he can, donate it to the closest food bank, and then throw himself into the Schuylkill River.

He’s not serious. At least, he thinks he’s not serious. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to drown himself. Besides, he learned to swim over the summer, so it’s probably not the most effective way to die.

But he’s never thought that part about the money before.

Jacob doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even know where he would be buried if he did die. In a lonesome Philadelphia grave, or by his mother back in his hometown? He hopes it’s the latter. At least then, his siblings would be forced to visit him every time they observed the Yahrzeit for her.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and it takes all of Jacob’s energy to pull it out, all of his willpower not to throw it out of the window, especially when he sees who’s calling.

“Jacob, where the hell are you?”

“Why do you care?” Jacob asks. He wants to sound angry, but all he sounds, looks, feels is tired. “I’m a mess-maker. You don’t need to clean up after me anymore.”

“Jacob, if you don’t tell me where you are, I’m calling the police.”

“You don’t even have a car.”

“Goddammit, Jacob, just tell me where you are! I’m trying to make sure you don’t-” Zach cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and Jacob wishes God would just strike him with lightning through the open window already. “Just, please. Tell me where you are.”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” Jacob says weakly.

“Jacob, honey, please. Please, tell me where you are.”

“I’m still at school.” Jacob lays his phone down on his desk, puts it on speaker. “At Abbott.” You know I wouldn’t kill myself at school. You know I love Abbott too much to besmear it like that. At least the river would wash me away.

“Don’t leave, okay? I’m on my way. Just- just don’t leave, okay?”

“Okay.” The conversation lapses, but neither of them make the move to end the call. Jacob wants to turn on the lights, close the window, try to seem as not-depressed as possible, but he knows Zach would see right through it, that any movement he makes now, Zach will hear and take as a bad sign.

So. He sits, and lets Zach find him in his classroom with the lights off and the window closest to his desk wide open. “Sorry about insulting your play,” he says when the shadow of Zach spreads across his floor. “I’m sure it would’ve been good.”

“I wasn’t actually going to finish it.” Zach slowly circles his way around the desk. “I’m going to close the window, okay?” Jacob can see how Zach is looking down at him, can feel how desperately the other man wants him to look up. He simply nods in return, keeping his eyes trained on his desk.

When the sound of wind finally cuts off, Jacob looks up at Zach. “I’m not going to-”

“I don’t believe you.” Zach is crying. When Jacob brings up a hand to cover his face, he realizes he’s been crying too. “Why would you tell me you had an apartment if you didn’t?”

“I didn’t think you’d care so much.” I didn’t think you’d care at all.

“How did you think I would feel getting a text from you saying that your life is boring, and that I didn’t have to worry about you anymore?”

“I didn’t even say that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I don’t know. Relieved, maybe, that you didn’t have to see me again.”

“How could you say that?” Zach says, kneeling in front of Jacob. “How could you think that? That I would want you dead?”

“I don’t think you want me dead. I just think that you wouldn’t necessarily be sad if I died.”

“Of course I would be,” Zach says, breaking down into a second bout of tears. “Of course I would be sad if you died. Jacob, we were together for almost four years, I’m never going to stop caring about you.”

Jacob’s heart feels like it’s going to explode out of his shrunken sweater. “I should’ve broken up with you when things started to feel wrong. I shouldn’t have dragged this out.”

“Jacob, I felt that things were wrong too, I’m equally guilty for not saying anything.”

“But you didn’t make things worse,” Jacob says hoarsely. “You didn’t try to annoy me so I would decide to break up with you.”

“Jacob, please, don’t dig yourself into this hole of self-loathing. Because honestly? I don’t know how to pull you out of it.” Zach slowly curls a hand around Jacob’s arm, and when he doesn’t resist, pulls him out of his seat. “Come on. You’re staying with me tonight.”

Zach hovers over Jacob as he sits on the couch, watching intently as Jacob books his first therapy appointment in months. “I can’t-" Jacob cuts himself off, forced into silence by his tightening throat.

“I’ll pay for the appointment. I’ll keep on paying until you actually get your own apartment.”

You don’t need to do that, Jacob wants to say, but his throat still feels like a boa constrictor is wrapped around it, and besides, he knows that even if he does refuse for Zach to pay, he’ll only double down on it. He wants to nod, he wants to thank him, he wants to hug him, but instead, he just turns off his phone and goes back to staring into nothingness. He feels the weight of the couch cushion shift as Zach sits down, and, little by little, the muscles in his throat relax. “I really appreciate you, Zach.” Please don’t lie and say you appreciate me too, because God knows I have done nothing good for you. “I wasn’t- I don’t think I would’ve done anything to myself tonight.”

“Maybe not,” Zach says. “But it’s nice to be sure.”

Jacob nods at that. He’s got exams to grade, calls to make, an apartment to find-

“I can hear your thoughts. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t start getting into your head about everything you have to do. You’re only going to feel worse.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jacob finally asks. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’m not going to kill myself if you don’t want to be my friend anymore, you know.”

Jacob immediately regrets the words as they leave his mouth, but that doesn’t stop Zach’s violent flinch. “Zach-”

“I care about you because I spent four years of my life with you, got to know you deeper than I’ve ever gotten to know anyone. Of course I was angry when we broke up, of course I was angry when you admitted you were trying to get me to break up with you. But goddammit, Jacob, that doesn’t mean I want you to die.” Zach whips off his glasses, wipes furiously at the tears gathering in his eyes. “I hate this. I hate trying to be vengeful. I don’t want to be the hateful person who rags on their ex at any given moment.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to be,” Jacob says hoarsely. “You’ve done a lot for me, Zach. I really appreciate all the years we’ve spent together.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, I’m grateful for the time we had together as well.” With a shaky sigh, Zach puts his glasses back on. “You can have the bed.”

“Oh, no, I shouldn’t-"

“Jacob, take the bed. The couch pulls out, remember?”

“Yes, I remember,” Jacob says. “Thank you, Zach. Really.” His hands itch to wrap his arms around Zach in a hug, but he settles for taking his hand instead. “Sorry about bringing the team down at Trivia Night.”

“You know I don’t actually care about the trivia,” Zach says, squeezing Jacob’s hand.

“I’m sure you care a little bit about it.”

“Yeah, a little bit,” he sighs. “But nowhere near as much as I care about you.”

It’s half after six when Jacob gets to school, but he can’t hear the familiar blare of Channel Six from the teacher’s lounge, and he’s just about convinced himself that he somehow forgot the school day was canceled when the door swings open. “Oh, thank God,” Gregory says, pulling Jacob inside. “He’s here, you guys.”

The teacher’s lounge is vacant, save for Janine, Barbara, Melissa, and Ava, sitting in a circle of chairs with tight frowns etched in their faces. “Is this an intervention?” Jacob asks as he sits down across from them. “I know I only just quit vaping, but I’m pretty sure these are meant to happen before you quit the addictive thing.”

“Where were you last night, Jacob?” Janine asks, and Jacob immediately hates how small her voice sounds, how she knows something is wrong, how everyone knows something is wrong, God, all Jacob does is make the wrong decisions-

“Jacob?” Barbara says. “Is everything alright?”

“I was at Zach’s apartment,” he finally answers. “He let me stay the night.”

“Mr. Johnson said that you two left together at what, ten at night?” Melissa chimes in. “What were you doing here so late, kid?”

“I don’t know. I just… I got held up, and then I was alone, and I didn’t trust myself to leave.”

“You keep on talking about how much you appreciate us, Jacob,” Melissa says with a frown. “We know you and Zach just broke up, but we’re all worried this is something deeper than that.”

Jacob can’t do this.

Jacob needs to do this.

“It’s been… tough, these past couple of months. Our landlord raised the rent the same time things started to spiral with Zach and I, and I had to make some decisions on what to cut. Our insurance had a copay on my therapist, but I couldn’t figure out a way to budget it in, and so I just…”

“Stopped going to therapy,” Gregory fills in.

“I was going to go back sooner. But by the time I found another therapist with a cheaper copay, I was too ashamed of how I had been handling things with Zach. And then, I started mismanaging everything else I had been attending therapy for, and I felt too far gone to start again. I didn’t know how to explain it to anybody, much less a stranger I was paying to judge me.”

“You don’t pay a therapist to judge you, Jacob,” Janine says. Jacob has to blink back tears from how shaky her voice sounds. “They’re there to help you.”

“I know that now. I booked an appointment last night. I’m starting again this Thursday. Zach’s covering the copay until I find a new place.”

“Jacob, go home.”

“Ava-”

“Jacob, you are not fit to be at school right now,” Ava says, with an authoritative tone in her voice Jacob hadn’t even known was possible for her to possess. “You need to go home.”

“Zach dropped me off,” he sheepishly admits. He didn’t trust me to drive.

“I’ll take you back to my place,” Gregory says, standing up from his chair before Jacob can refuse. “Ava, can you find a substitute for Jacob and I on such short notice?”

“I’ll pull something together. Jacob, we’ll see you next week.”

“But it’s only Tuesday.”

“Let me rephrase that. If you try to come into school anytime this week, I will lock you into my bunker. And then let you out for your appointment. And then throw you right back in.”

For the first time in what has been a very long week, Jacob cracks a genuine smile. “See you all next week.”

Usually, it’s Jacob talking Gregory’s ear off while the other sits in silence. Jacob’s not sure what to make of the role reversal as Gregory talks to him about the student who doesn’t understand how Gregory can have a first name as a last name, about how he dared himself to have a slice of pizza last night for the first time in years and unsurprisingly still hated it, about the landscaping project he’s carrying out for his apartment building. Gregory manages to keep this rambling up for the entire fifteen-minute drive from school to his apartment, which is potentially the longest amount of time he has ever spent talking. His speech peters away as he turns the car off, and Jacob finally dares himself to speak.

“Gregory?” he says carefully. “I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. I know you were just looking out for me. I really do appreciate-"

“Please,” Gregory cuts Jacob off. “Please don’t use the word appreciate. We spent all of last night going over what to say to you, and every time someone brought up a new story where you said you appreciated them, the more it scared me.”

“Alright, then. I’m grateful that you care for me.”

“I’m your friend, Jacob, of course I care about you.”

On a good day, Gregory reassuring Jacob that they were friends would warm his heart. Today, it just burns. “I feel like I haven’t been that good of a friend to you recently.”

“Maybe you haven’t been,” Gregory says. “Sometimes a friendship ebbs and flows. But when you pull away, I want to trust that you’ll come back to us.”

“I have no plans to leave.”

“Good,” Gregory says with a tight voice, “that’s good.”

“Did it… did it upset you, that I didn’t ask to stay at your place?”

“I mean, yeah, a little.” Gregory’s fingers tap on the steering wheel. “A lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Jacob, it’s not something you need to apologize for. I’m just curious as to why you didn’t ask.”

“Well, to be technical, Janine was the only person I asked. Everyone else asked me if I’d like to crash with them. I guess I was just making my way through the roster.”

“I get that, but staying at Mr. Johnson’s before you stay at mine? Seriously?”

“I didn’t stay at Mr. Johnson’s?”

Gregory’s side-eye burns into Jacob’s face. “So you’re telling me Mr. Johnson made up the story about you two- Actually, never mind, he would make that up.”

Jacob decides to not press further. “You had already done a lot for me,” he says. “Going out with me to the bar every time I asked, organizing that one night at Rubenstein’s with Janine… I guess I didn’t want to burden you with more of my problems.”

“You’ve got to stop thinking you’re a burden, Jacob.”

“I know. It was one of the things I went to therapy for.”

“Good thing you’re going back, then.” Gregory sighs, the car rumbling as he turns it off. “Stay at my place. Just until you’ve had your first appointment.”

“Alright.”

“And find a new apartment.”

“I don’t think I’ll manage to do that before Thursday.”

“I don’t mind the wait.”

The guest room is painted white, with a single gray carpet on the floor, and plain white sheets on the bed. Quintessential Gregory, Jacob thinks as he sits down on it. Sitting turns into laying, and laying turns into sleeping, which Jacob is awoken from by the soft click of heels on the hardwood floors. “Hey, Janine.”

“How do you know it’s me without even opening your eyes?”

“If you were Barbara, I wouldn’t have heard you walk in. And Melissa clomps more than she walks.”

“And Ava?”

“Wouldn’t be caught dead visiting me and looking like she cares.”

Janine settles onto the bed with a quiet laugh, and Jacob finally opens his eyes. “You look tired,” he tells her.

“I am tired. Working at the district is… it’s fine. It’s a challenge, but I welcome challenges.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Kind of. But I’m here to talk about what you’ve got going on. Which I think may also be involved with what I’ve got going on.” Janine sighs as she unbuttons her blazer. “I know I’m not a therapist, Jacob, but I’m still your friend. You’ve never hidden your problems from me before. Literally, not a single problem. I never thought I’d miss the days where you rambled on about your tapeworm.”

“I wanted to tell you about it, the night I spent at your apartment. But you seemed busy.”

“I was busy. I am busy. I’m always busy. But I’m free today. Told the district I had to go down to Abbott for an emergency.”

“And they believed you?”

“As it turns out, the district considers a teacher in a personal crisis to be a very big emergency,” she says with a wince. “But in good news, they’re looking to expand the mental health services available to educators.” Janine pulls off her blazer, lays it across the bed. “So, you and Zach?”

“We had been having problems for quite a bit before we broke up,” Jacob finally tells her. “When I told Gregory about it, I had used the word bored , but I’m not sure if that was the best term. I guess the things we found enticing about each other just turned into things we found annoying.” And I know I have a lot of things that would be considered annoying.

“When you told Gregory about it?”

“He noticed something was up two days before Zach and I broke up. Talked to him about it at the bar.”

“I hadn’t known anything was wrong,” Janine says sadly.

“It’s not your fault that I chose not to tell you. You being away at the district made it easier for me to lie to you, to lie to myself.”

“But it’s not like I’ve been totally gone. I mean, we still get lunch together some days.”

“Janine, I see Gregory everyday, and he only found out about Zach and I last week. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Janine nods at that, but Jacob knows that the answer doesn’t satisfy her, doesn’t relieve her of the guilty verdict she’s placed upon herself. “I said we’d talk about it when you weren’t as busy, right? If the district gave you the whole day to handle the teacher’s personal crisis, then a proper vent session is surely in order.”

Janine’s tiny smile brings a grin to Jacob’s own face, and she further settles into the bed, grabbing a pillow for cushioning. “When did the issues with Zach start up?”

“Well, it’s March now, so a little over seven months ago…”

In between one of his bouts of locking himself in the guest room and feeling sorry for himself, Jacob sets out to make lunch for him and Gregory on Wednesday. He gathers what he needs for his dad’s spaghetti sauce, a recipe he hadn’t even realized he remembered until the island is covered with all of his ingredients. Emotionally unavailable was a term invented for his dad, but when the dad did speak, it was through his cooking, with warm bowls of soup and large platters of deli sandwiches offered out by calloused hands like a hug. It’s one of the few memories about home that brings a smile to Jacob’s face, and for the first time in long time, he thinks that it actually might be nice to call up his dad, fill him in on his life, get to hear about his.

The tranquility is destroyed when Jacob goes to grab a knife to dice the bell peppers, only to discover that the knife block set is nowhere to be found.

As he stows the last of the ingredients back, the bell rings. A glance at the clock tells him it’s 3:00, but Gregory stays an extra hour after school to check over the garden, so it can’t be him. At least, Jacob hopes it’s not him. Gregory’s already being kind enough by letting him stay at his apartment, he doesn’t want the man to start putting his life on hold.

“Hey, Jacob, you going to let us in or what?”

“Melissa, hey,” Jacob says, pulling the door open. “And Barbara, hello.”

“Good afternoon, Jacob.” The two women wordlessly step through the door, examining the apartment for God-knows-what. “We wanted to know if you’d like to have lunch with us,” Barbara says, which Jacob translates into Gregory wanted to stay behind and check on the garden, but he also didn’t want you to be alone. His concern touches Jacob, although perhaps it should worry him how much Gregory is worrying about him.

“I’d love that. What are we cooking?”

“Oh, it’s already been cooked,” Melissa says, raising up a Tupperware in offering. “Classic Schemmenti gnocchi.”

“Sit down, I’ll grab us some plates.” A quick glance in the cutlery drawer shows that even the dinner knives are missing. Jacob considers it lucky that Gregory didn’t also take away the forks. “I hope this week has been going well for the two of you?”

“It’s been going fine, Jacob,” Barbara says. “How have you been doing?”

“I’m doing better. Maybe not good, but better. I had a consultation with my new therapist over the phone today. Felt good to talk about it.”

“Congrats, Jacob, you’ve rediscovered the purpose of therapy,” Melissa says through a mouthful of gnocchi. “Your students have been asking about you. Gregory told his garden goofballs that you got food poisoning from not eating enough vegetables. Not how food poisoning works, but still a good lesson to learn.”

“It’s nice to know that they’re concerned,” Jacob says, hoping his appreciative blush goes unnoticed. “It’s nice to know that you two are concerned, too. I- Your presence in my life means a lot to me.”

“You’re trying to not use the word appreciate, are you.” It’s phrased like a question, but Melissa dictates it like a fact.

“I was told that it freaked you all out.”

“We had been freaked out before then, Jacob. You’ve been off these past couple of weeks. These past couple of months.”

“I hadn’t known you noticed.”

“You’ve been acting less annoying, of course we noticed.”

“What Melissa is trying to say is that it felt like you were pulling away. We weren’t sure if it was because you were spending more time with Gregory, or the middle school teachers, or just wanted to be by yourself, but we noticed. We do pay attention, Jacob.”

“We care about you, kid,” Melissa says. “Yeah, we rag on you sometimes, but it’s all out of love.”

“I know that,” Jacob sighs, “I do. I just didn’t know if it was something you would want to listen to.”

“Well, we’re here to listen now,” Barbara says. “Where do you want to begin?”

“You didn’t happen to bring any wine with you, did you, Melissa?”

“Aw, kid,” Melissa says, pulling a bottle of Chardonnay out of her purse. “You already know the answer to that."

It’s only when Jacob locks the door behind him that he realizes he hasn’t left Gregory’s apartment in a little over forty-eight hours. He’s made what he thinks is a good use of his time, though: He cleaned the apartment, made salad for the two of them to eat over dinner last night, graded the rest of his students’ essays. He even asked Gregory if he needed help with his rooftop garden project that afternoon, a question that left Gregory with bulging eyes and stammering that maybe you shouldn’t go on top of rooftops yet, Jacob?

Now that Jacob thinks about it, Gregory might have been trying to keep him inside the apartment.

He knows that Zach’s come over, surmised from the box of miscellaneous things by the front door he must have forgotten to take when he first left his apartment, but if he gave back Jacob’s car keys, he must have given them to Gregory.

It’s fine. He was planning to walk to his appointment anyway. He takes a small step outside, slowly breathing in the cold evening air. Dr. Brown’s clinic is ten minutes away, ten minutes that Jacob plans on spending organizing his thoughts. I broke up with my partner of four years and couch surfed for the better part of a week, then maybe thought about killing myself, and I also might have been under suicide watch these past two days-

The unrelenting blare of a car horn pulls Jacob out of his thoughts. “Jacob!” Ava calls from her open car window, hand pulsing on the horn of the steering wheel.

“Ava, what are you doing here?” Jacob asks, blocking his ears.

“Why do you think, Mr. C? To drive you to your appointment.”

“Oh, that’s fine,” Jacob yells over the honking horn. “You don’t have to do that. The walk isn’t that long.”

“If you try to walk, I will follow you and honk my horn the entire time. Get in.”

“Alright, alright.” He waves Ava off as he slides into the front seat, sighing with relief when she finally rests on the horn. “How did you even know I was leaving for my appointment now?”

“Because I’ve got eyes everywhere, Scrappy-Doo.”

“Gregory asked you to give me a ride, didn’t he.”

“Maybe. But I also wanted to see you.” The conversation lapses into a comfortable silence as Ava glides the car effortlessly through the streets. “School district emailed me today. Said they were made aware that a teacher of mine was undergoing a personal conflict, and wanted me to make said teacher aware that their insurance also covered mental health services.”

“So, in essence, they did nothing about it.”

“That’s just how it goes with the district.”

“I’m sure they tried to do something, though.”

“If by they, you mean Janine, you would be correct.” Ava sighs as they pull into the clinic. “As your principal, I’ll try to see what I can do, maybe try to find a therapist that’ll take Abbott teachers without a copay. And as your… acquaintance, just know that I’m here for you. And that I expect to see you this Sunday to watch Poor Things.”

When Jacob steps out of the clinic, Gregory’s car is pulled up at the front. “Any chance you’d let me drive?”

“No way in hell,” Gregory says with a tone that still manages to be kind. 

“Probably for the best,” Jacob says, sliding into the passenger seat. “I forgot how exhausting therapy can be.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. You had a lot to talk about.”

“That we did.” Dr. Brown had asked Jacob a lot in their fifty minutes together: About Zach, his parents, his siblings, his friends, his job, his goals. His first goal? Find a new apartment. “Can I ask you a question, Gregory?”

“If this is about the rooftop garden…”

“No, no, it’s not about that. Well, it kind of is, except it isn’t.”

“Is it about or not about the garden?”

“Can I move in with you?”

Gregory slams on the brakes with more force than necessary, jolting to a stop at the red light. “What?”

“Is that a no? Sorry, I know it’s a big ask, I promise I won’t be upset if-”

“Jacob, it’s not a no.” The light turns green, but Gregory makes no move to start driving again. “You really want to move in with me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Jacob says. “I mean, we’ve only been living together for two days, but it’s been nice. And you’re closer to Abbott than my old place was, so-” The car behind them honks, and Gregory silently curses as he lays his foot off of the brake. “I’d go half with you on the rent, obviously, and utilities. And we can figure out a cooking schedule or something. Although, we should probably check with your landlord first. Only if you want me to move in, that is.”

“Don’t worry about my landlord, he already said yes. I mean, he would say yes.”

“You already asked your landlord if I can move in with you?”

“No. Maybe. Yes. I was going to ask you about it when we got home.” 

“Gregory Eddie, do you want me to move in with you?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, Jacob Hill.” Gregory pulls the car to a stop at a yield sign, his foot lighter on the brake this time. “It was just me and my dad in the house, growing up. He was so proud of his company, so proud of me when he saw how much I loved gardening. Until I told him that I didn’t want to take over the business, that is. Then I moved to Philadelphia, and I was alone. And it was a relief at first, since being alone meant no dad to come home to, telling you to make something meaningful of your life, which really just means something meaningful to him . But with you…” Gregory sighs, his fingers lax around the steering wheel. “I guess I got so used to being alone, I forgot that it can actually be nice having someone around.”

“I’m glad you’re able to enjoy my company.”

“You make it easy to enjoy.” The traffic finally lets up, and Gregory pulls the car back on the road. “So, roommates?”

“Roommates.”

“Is your grandma alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine. She didn’t break any bones, thankfully, but I should still go back to Pittsburgh for the next couple of days, rally around her with the rest of the family.”

“Well, I’ll be able to check up on Ra’Jah while you’re gone.”

“Poor puppy, I just got her three weeks ago and I already have to leave her,” Zach says with a pout Jacob can hear over the phone. “Thank you so much for this, Jacob, I appreciate it.”

“Of course, it’s no problem.”

“You able to help me with dinner, Jacob?” Gregory stands vigilantly over the pot currently cooking butternut squash soup, a recipe handed down to Jacob when he called his dad last night. He looks inquisitively at Jacob, who currently blocks approximately a quarter of the kitchen space with how he’s leaning against the island.

“Yeah, of course. Just give me one minute. Sorry, Zach, I’ve got to help Gregory make dinner. The whole Abbott crew’s coming over tonight.”

“Oh, that should be fun.”

“Yeah, it should be.” Gregory raises an eyebrow, gestures to the pot with the ladle in his hand. “Maybe you’d like to come for dinner one day.”

“Maybe I would. Thanks, Jacob.”

“Thank you, Zach. See you tomorrow.”

“Do you actually want to have him over for dinner?” Gregory asks when he hangs up.

“Maybe,” Jacob says, grabbing the ladle from him. “The whole being-friends-with-your-ex thing has gone pretty well for me so far.”

“Did you bring it up to Dr. Brown?”

“Yeah, a couple of weeks ago. She says that if things ended amicably, it shouldn’t be bad.”

“And did things end amicably?”

“I guess that depends on where we say the relationship ended.”

“Well, I say it ended when you told him you wanted to break up, and he proceeded to say very unsavory things about you.”

“Composting is disgusting, though,” Jacob admits. “And I found all his shoe-talk boring, so I can’t get upset if he thought the same for all my facts.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I think you might be more upset about this than me.”

“Maybe,” Gregory says with a shrug. “But it’s always good to have a friend who hates your ex. Just in case.”

A friend. “Just in case,” Jacob repeats with a small smile.