Page 66 of Refraction

“Yeah, put it on.” Did he have that? He wasn’t sure what he had right now, other than a really beautiful high and funds for pay-per-view. That’d work okay for now.

Timmy grabbed a smallish box, tossed it over. “This was hand-delivered. What’s in it?”

“Nosy.” Calvin caught it and turned it around in his hands. “I don’t know. It has a New York return address.” He sat up and put the package on his knees, then tore off the brown paper wrapping around a recycled box.

There was a packing slip that he threw aside. That was like cheating. There was a light little package wrapped in Bubble Wrap and paper. Look at all that stuff. He worked the tape off and came face-to-face with Tucker’s little tiny painting from the gallery.

Hope.

“Oh.” He held it carefully in his fingers like it was fragile, and it occurred to him that in a lot of ways it was. He sat with that idea for a minute and was just stoned enough to see all of them at once. He stared at the little painting, his mind going in several directions, and waited for the room to stop spinning.

“That’s neat. What is it? Did you order it?”

“It’sHope.” He felt Timmy’s eyes on him and realized that would make no sense. “It’s one of Tucker’s. It’s calledHope.”

“Oh. That’s cool? I mean, is that cool?”

He picked up the packing slip and found a note.

It’stime for me to go back where I belong and get out of your hair. Hold on to this for me, please. Someday I’ll visit both y’all. I love you, honey. I’m sorry I can’t be better. T.

“No, wait.”He flipped the note over like maybe it said something better on the other side, but of course it didn’t. He read it again, the hazy state he was in making it hard to follow…go back where I belong… someday… what?

Okay. So whatever, then.He put the painting back in the box with the note and pushed the box across the coffee table.

“Did you find the movie?”

“Yep. You ready?” Timmy shot him a grin and plopped down beside him.

“Yep.” He found a grin for Timmy as well and reached for the bong.

* * *

It wasbright as anything when Calvin woke up. He squinted and shielded his eyes from the streak of sunlight, and stretched. Now that he could see a little bit, he realized that not only was he on the couch, but he’d been using Timmy’s thigh as a pillow. He gingerly lifted Timmy’s protective hand off his shoulder and got to his feet.

Poor Timmy was sacked out sitting up, and his head was at a horrible angle for sleeping. Calvin figured he must really be out.

He set up the couch pillows at one end and discovered Timmy was remarkably easy to move. He got his roomie settled and put the weird crocheted blanket one of Timmy’s old boyfriends had made for him over Timmy’s legs.

It was a shame Eddie couldn’t carry a tune; he really couldn’t do any better than Timmy.

He spotted the box from Tucker on the table and picked it up and carried it into his room, the weight of the box having nothing to do with the tiny little painting inside.

He couldn’t remember seeing the end of the movie, and he was pretty sure it was dark out when they’d started it. Other than that, he had no real sense of how long he’d been asleep. He put the box on his bed and found his phone—8:37 a.m.

He started to ignore the fourteen texts from Michael but then thought better of it and skimmed them before giving his agent a call.

“Calvin! My God, where have you been? It’s about time you got back to me.”

“I… I was sleeping. What’s up?”

“Well, listen. I have a shoot for you on Monday and another toward the end of the week. They’re going to let me know.”

Work. Nope.“Cancel it.”

“What? Calvin—”

“Okay, cancel Monday, and I’ll let you know about the other one.”

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