Call it conditioning, call it habit, call it weakness, call it whatever, I call him.
"Hey," I say.
"What's wrong?" he says. I laugh a little.
"What gave you the idea that something is wrong?"
"Oh come on," he says, and he does an impression of me. I laugh some more. "So, you gonna tell me?"
I tell him. I tell him in detail. I tell him that I'm leaving next Wednesday, and I'll be gone until the following Monday.
"Are you okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," I tell him. "I'm more worried about my mom. Um. She doesn't have anyone to talk to."
He says, "You could talk to her."
I give him excuses.
"We're staying in hotels this time," I say. "It's good. This time it won't be a repeat of Christmas."
"What happened at Christmas?"
"Remember how I locked myself in my nana's shitty apartment, and how all I did was drink cheap wine out of a plastic cup and talk to you?"
"Yeah."
"That's what happened."
"I see your point."
I stare at the floor.
"I'm here if you need me," he says.
"I know. I should leave you alone."
"Who are you going to call?"
"No one."
"Not her?"
"Not her. You're the only one I've called, and the only one I'm going to call."
He doesn't say anything, but it's a flattered silence.
"Hey," he says, "our friend is coming over on Monday. I mean, it might not happen, but if it does, do you wanna kick it with us?"
"Sure, that would be great."
"Awesome. Well, I should get to bed."
"Yeah, you should."
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
I said that people prefer anger to happiness because happiness isn't visceral.
P.S. - My grandmother has breast cancer.