said, we had a falling out six months ago. It’s kind of a long story, but basically we argued over the way our lives, individually, had begun to change. He called me a wet blanket when I vetoed one of his trip ideas. I told him he was irresponsible. He owned a house but was hardly home, so while he was in the Andes I took it upon myself to check up on the house and I found about a foot of water on his main level. Turned out the pipes hadn’t been well-maintained, an issue they found in the inspection. And because it had been neglected for so long, mold had grown. Insurance didn’t cover it. I called him up and he was pissed about it. I told him what needed to be done and he told me he didn’t have the money for it.”
“But he was in the Andes?”
“Yeah. He was a firm believer in the ‘you can’t take it with you’ mantra. His savings was practically nonexistent because he drained it every time there was enough in his account to cover a trip. So, I did what I could with the connections I had, got the cost knocked down for him, but it was still a substantial amount of money. I kind of gave him a dad talk, about being responsible. If he didn’t want the responsibility of home ownership, he could always sell his place. Or rent it and use the rental income to supplement his income. He didn’t like that, told me not to parent him. We got into it, with me calling him irresponsible and him calling me boring, a flake. Told me I wasn’t the guy he once knew as his best friend.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, it didn’t feel great. But he wasn’t wrong. After my mom’s sudden passing, my mindset shifted. I was left with all these adult responsibilities. I told myself that it was time to grow up. And growing up meant fewer around-the-world trips. I got a cat.” He laughed. “To keep me company. I wanted a dog, but considering how much I travel, a cat was a better pet.”
“You have a cat?” I didn’t know why, but the idea of him owning a cat was too adorable for words. “What’s his name?”
“Her name is George. It was the name the shelter gave her, as a kitten, thinking she was a boy. But when they brought her to the vet, the vet told them she’d been spayed, not neutered. The name stuck.” He shrugged. “I went home today not just for the fishing gear but also to check on her. She’s probably the most chill cat ever and doesn’t seem to mind my long absences.”
I wanted to meet George. I was a little homesick for my own feline back home, though he merely tolerated me. “Is she pretty?”
“Very. Part Himalayan. Super fluffy.” He glanced at me. “Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“I just find it charming that you have a pretty, fluffy cat named George.”
Liam laughed. “Yeah, I think me getting a cat surprised everyone. But getting an animal had the added benefit of explaining to Will why I couldn’t do two-week jaunts to New Zealand or Japan. So, anyway, after he called me boring and I called him irresponsible, we stopped speaking for six months. Then, out of the blue, he reached out and asked me to go creeking with him. I didn’t want to—I’ve never gone before and I knew it was a riskier sport. But he told me it’d be just us, we could squash our shit and be close again, so I agreed.” He turned off of the highway into a parking lot filled with trucks and trailers. Water surrounded us, sunlight glittering off the sandy shore as children ran along a beach.
After a long moment of staring into his lap, Liam said, “But I didn’t end up going after all. I took a work trip instead. And I regret it, Tori. More than anything. It makes me feel like half of a man, to have bailed on the trip that ended my best friend’s life.”
There were no words I could say, no solace I could offer. He wasn’t grieving loss of his friend alone, he was grieving his decision, too. Guilt and grief went hand in hand, and I knew I was powerless in helping him. So I slid across the seat until I was hip to hip, thigh to thigh and leaned my head onto