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and just waiting at the end of the wharf for rescue. A ferry had to come sometime today, the store must get its deliveries somehow. They’d remember he’d bought a return ticket. It’s not like there were a lot of travelers. Fuck his wallet. Fuck his bag. Only the thought that his car keys were in his luggage held him back. Without them it would be a long wait indeed at car park for the auto club.
     
    In his soppiest imaginings he’d pictured he and Parker going into the mainland for the day, picking up his car and stocking up on food at the tiny supermarket in Redport. He’d buy a breadmaker, make sourdough while Parker . . . did whatever you did to keep your cash inheritance growing while you played the days away with your long-term partner. Will laughed to himself. Making bread. What the hell did he expect? Reality was a studio apartment and Christmas spent alone, because Parker wasn’t out to his family. And Will didn’t have one. And occasionally they’d take a vacation together and sit on separate towels, nursing hangovers and resentment.
     
    When Parker first mentioned an island Will had never heard of, he’d thought he was insane.
     
    “Parker, this is a joke, right?”
     
    “No, baby, I’m serious. Come on, you’ll love it.”
     
    “I’m . . .” Will fought for words. “Love it? Parker, what the hell gives you the idea I’d love living on an island? With no coffee. Or roads. I hate the ocean.”
     
    “Don’t be ridiculous. There’s coffee. And you like swimming.”
     
    “Firstly, anything that has to come from a jar is not coffee. And secondly, I like swimming in pools , with chlorine, and lifeguards in very small trunks, the way the gods intended. I don’t do open water. And I can’t live without the internet.”
     
    It was absurd. And it was absurd he had to explain to Parker why it was absurd. He couldn’t live on an island. What would he do for work, for starters? And yet he felt what Parker must – some distant tug, the unbearable lure of an island . And Parker had asked him , wanted him . A life together on an island had to mean something permanent, right? Will had started to ache, deep inside, for something he never knew he wanted.
     
    “Will, this can be a new start for us. Come with me. Please?”
     
    And when he’d told Parker ‘No,’ and Parker had gone anyway . . . Well, he was unprepared for his reaction. Everything was slightly askew, as if someone had moved the world around. That night the dream started again. Fuck. Three years of therapy and it was still lurking in the darkness. He hadn’t had it for years, after innumerable nights waking his mom up every night screaming. He’d be swimming, diving down to collect shells and chase crabs. The light rippled on the sand like a fractured dance, and the sea floor stretched out forever. And then a ribbon of seaweed wrapped around his leg, pulling him down, and the ocean darkened, and suddenly he knew, he knew , that there was something far worse, just out of his sight, but he was running out of air, the sensation like a vise around his chest. He wanted to look, he had to look, but he knew if he looked it would be the end. And Will woke up sobbing, panting, and his heart hurt.
     
    And to have to sit down and discuss this in front of a stranger— no, wait, two strangers, seemed unbearable.
     
    Cyrus seemed equally inclined to leave, taking Will’s upper arm in his hand with a too-strong grasp that made Will wince.
     
    “Will, please?” said Sina.
     
    Will turned to Cyrus and looked up into his green eyes, as if this man he had just met would not only tell him what to do, but would make all of this not matter any more. In Cyrus’s cool gaze Will suddenly realized his reaction to Parker was hot shame at being foolish, at being played, and not actually for the loss of the man. Which was good, because it seemed as if Parker had hedged his bets all along.
     
    Sina found them a table and went to order. Will assumed