Read Here to Stay for Free Online

his watch. “Go.”
    “I left Lancaster. Sulked for a few months then went back to finish my degree at SUNY Geneseo. I stayed there about four years after I graduated. Worked at the Playhouse. Cobbled an existence from a bunch of little jobs. Perfected the art of shutting down. Then I had my spectacular breakdown. I think a year going into it and a year coming out of it. In ninety-seven I got a job at SUNY Brockport. Moved there. Met a woman. Dated her two years. Got married…”
    “No details.”
    “Marriage fell apart. I got divorced. I headed to Lancaster and saw Kees. I picked up the phone and made a long overdue call. I bought a plane ticket. I showed my ugly face so everyone could smack the shit out of it. I ordered a beer. The end.”
    “All right then.”
    They sat in awkward silence, drumming fingers and spoons, avoiding eyes.
    “Did I apologize for that phone call?” Erik asked.
    Will shrugged one shoulder.
    Erik forced himself to be still. “I’m sorry.”
    Will ran his three-fingered hand through his hair. In college, it had been an impressive mane, falling below his shoulders. He shaved it down to the scalp after the shooting. Now it was a short and shaggy cut that framed the strong T of his nose and eyebrows, and the slanting accents of his cheekbones. Erik could stand in a bar and take numbers as long as Will wasn’t anywhere near.
    Now Will smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Dude,” he said. “I got so much to say, I’m kind of paralyzed. I don’t know where the fuck to even start.”
    “I hear you.”
    Silence. Will drained the rest of his beer and plonked the glass back onto the table. “Jesus, if this actually were a date, I wouldn’t call you again.”
    Erik killed his own draft. “Wouldn’t blame you.”
    The waitress came over. “Une autre tournée, messieurs?”
    “La même chose,” Will said, sliding the glasses toward her. “Merci.”
    Erik echoed his thanks to her back. “Tournée. Does that mean a round?”
    Will nodded, his fingers fidgeting around the table. Which was odd. Will was, in Erik’s memory, preternaturally composed.
    “I quit smoking,” Will said, taking a deep breath and linking his hands on the tabletop. “Never mind the nicotine addiction. It’s crazy how dependent I got on that bit of business to occupy my hands. I’ve never had to pay this much attention to holding still before.”
    “I’m thinking this conversation might be easier if we had a cord of wood to split and stack.”
    Will laughed. “Too bad I already have my winter supply laid in.”
    “Where are you and Lucky living now?”
    “We’re west of the city.” He turned a placemat over. “You got a pen? You must. You always had a pen.”
    Erik had a pen and Will grinned as it was handed over. “I always had smokes, you always had a pen.”
    “What do you carry now?”
    “Fucking gum. It’s pathetic. Merci,” he said to the waitress who set down the next round. He drank as he sketched a quick map of Saint John, putting his house and Daisy’s house into perspective. “We love the place but it’s small. And with this third kid coming we really need to think of moving. I’d rather do it before the baby comes than after.”
    “What’s parenthood been like?”
    Three slow chuckles in Will’s chest. “Dude, that’s not small talk. We’d need a camping trip to discuss parenthood.”
    Which was fine with Erik, who had severe fertility issues and wasn’t yet ready to talk about them. He fished around for a topic and finally asked, “Do you miss dancing? Performing, I mean.”
    Two years earlier, Will and Daisy retired as principal dancers with New Brunswick Ballet and took up reins as co-artistic directors.
    “I do,” Will said slowly, as if taking the admission for a test drive. “But it was time.”
    “How so?”
    Will reached behind to touch the left side of his back. “Scar tissue from the bullet wound, for one thing,” he said. “Didn’t bother me until I turned