The Predicament of Persians - A.G. Henley Page 0,51

And now he has the Purina sponsorship, too.

Jess shrugs. “Maybe. But he sounded sincere.”

“His account’s still live,” I say.

Jess’s eyebrow quirks. “We talked to him like half an hour ago. He’s probably packing.”

“I wonder . . .” Viv says to Jess. “Maybe if Kathleen asked Joe to work with her, he might keep his account going.”

I narrow my eyes. What did Joe tell them? “Why would you think that?”

“Because when we asked why he wanted to shut it down, he said because then Purina would have no choice but to give you the sponsorship. He also said something like, ‘Romeo without his Juliet is a moody kid with a bunch of swaggering buddies and no girlfriend.’”

“What does that mean?” I say.

Viv tilts her head. “I think he meant it’s time for Romeo and Juliet to be together online, or for Romeo not to be online at all.”

One of the last lines Romeo says to Juliet in the play comes to mind, when he believes she’s dead and right before he drinks poison: Here, here will I remain with worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here will I set up my everlasting rest, and shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh.

Joe’s deactivating Romeo’s account, not musing on suicide, but still. Did he tell Viv and Jess he was quitting Instagram to try to get me to change my mind? Or did he mean it?

I ask a careful question. “Did you two approach Joe after the meet and greet? Or did he come to you?”

“We grabbed him for a chat,” Jess says. “We wanted to tell him the same thing we’d told you earlier, that it might be fun for you two to work together, but he said you won’t, and now you said you won’t, so I guess that’s the end of it.”

They both watch me.

“It is,” I say.

I try to ignore the disappointment on their faces. What’s even harder to dismiss is the soft, sad meow that comes from Juliet, as if she’d understood every word.

Am I doing the right thing here? Or am I being as silly as a Shakespearean fool?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Under love’s heavy burden do I sink.”

- Romeo and Juliet (Act 1, Scene 4)

Joe

Packing to leave the hotel is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. My hands shake and my thoughts scatter. My body feels sluggish and my legs seem disconnected from my body, like a bug some child has tormented.

I move methodically around the room from bed to desk to chest to closet, tossing both dirty and clean clothes in the bottom of my suitcase, something I’ll probably regret since I need the clean ones to be clean for the next week. I shove bathroom items into my kit, stuff Romeo’s bag of food into his small duffel, and finally, fold up my suit from last night. I can’t help holding it to my face before I pack it. Kathleen’s sweet vanilla scent graces the collar.

I can’t leave without her. I can’t.

But she’s made it very, very clear that she doesn’t want me.

I have to focus. Boyd will be by any minute. My cousin— kindly, under the circumstances—agreed to take Romeo on the plane back to Tampa this afternoon and hand him over to my mother to keep until I get home. As for me, I canceled my ticket and booked myself onto a series of Amtrak trains.

I thought about rushing back to Florida and burying myself in work, but I can’t do it. I need time to think and, frankly, to grieve. Taking a cross-country train has been on my bucket list forever. Now’s my chance.

I’ll leave from Union Station. The route goes through the farmlands of Nebraska and Iowa to Chicago, then across to Washington, D.C., and finally meanders down the East Coast to Tampa. I’ll stop for a day—maybe more—in each city and get lost in the hustle and bustle. If you see me, I’ll be the guy with the broken and bleeding heart.

A knock on the door interrupts my melancholy thoughts. My heart pounds in my chest, hoping it might be Kathleen . . . but it isn’t. Boyd still looks annoyed with me, and I can’t really blame him.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know this weekend didn’t go the way we’d planned.”

He rubs his side. “You can say that again.”

“I’ll make it up to you when we get home. Bars every Friday and Saturday night and batting cage every Sunday. Sound good?”

“I have to spend time with