Minor Changes

Chapter Nine

Eddy put on his running shoes and threw a few loose clothes in his gym bag. He didn't have any plan other than getting as far away as possible from the flat, from Brett, from every agonizing reminder of their life together. 

He went to the gym. He ran and ran. He ran until his chest heaved. He ran until the pounding of his feet drummed out all feeling. He ran until perspiration replaced the tears walled just behind his eyes. Through his sweat-blurred vision, he weighed his options. 

There were friends he could make an excuse to stay with for the night, but what after that? He could go back to Australia, but there was a schedule to keep and content to create that his career and an entire team depended on; not to mention the fans, who were expecting a live concerto performance in two weeks. He would inevitably have to return home. To Brett.

He rinsed off in a cold shower and called their friend, Jordon, who said, sure, he could crash on the couch. An incoming text lit up his screen.

Brett: You okay? Leaving the door unlocked.

He turned the phone off.

At Jordon's place, Eddy threw back a double shot of whiskey, then another, and passed out. Being polite, Jordon didn't ask.

***

He just needs space, Brett reasoned when he didn't hear back. Around midnight, he was awakened by an incoming text. He fumbled for his phone next to the bed, knocking over a glass of water in the process.

Eddy: Staying at Jordon's tonight. Thanks.

Brett could feel the chill of ice through the screen.

He'll get over it, he told himself, even if he didn't really believe it. 

At least we don't have to film anything tomorrow.

He wandered to the couch and fell asleep in front of the television, whose meaningless drivel wove in and out of his dreams.

When the sun woke him through the blinds, he momentarily felt the blithe anticipation of a new day. Then he remembered that he was alone. He got up and made a cup of coffee. The place was stark and sterile without his friend's warm presence. He needed something to do. Something menial and repetitive and comforting.

He walked around the flat collecting dirty laundry—discarded items strewn on his floor, tossed in bathroom corners and over the backs of chairs. Jeezus, we live like slobs he clucked to himself. It wasn't every day that he took it upon himself to do the washing, and he thought Eddy might accept the gesture as a small olive branch. 

He wadded everything into a basket and then dumped it on the floor, separating it into piles and emptying pockets of loose change. In one of his trouser pockets, he found 50 cents and a long-lost pair of earplugs. He picked up one of Eddy's hoodies and stuffed his hand into the soft, fleecy pocket.

Inside was a crumpled piece of paper. He pulled it out. It looked like it had already been through the washer a time or two. He assumed it was trash—an old to-do list or receipt, but unfolded it to check. Though the crinkles and worn places he could decipher the words in Eddy's tidy, unwavering handwriting:

Brett.

I came to you for friendship. I found love.

You are everything to me. I'm sorry it took me so long to figure that out.

Yours, Eddy

Brett backed up to the wall and slid himself into a seated position. He carefully read and re-read the over the words, heart in his throat, holding their gravity between his trembling fingers. He swallowed hard. 

Could it be some kind of joke? Had Eddy's sister put him up to this? He folded the paper neatly, handling it as though it were made of ash, and put it in his pocket.

While the washing machine swished and swirled, he sat idly, allowing the feel of Eddy's hand on his knuckles to play on a loop through his mind. It had been warmth and steadiness and sunlight incarnate.

Nice one, Yang. Leave it to you to fuck up a nearly perfect moment.

He tuned his violin and let his frustration work itself out through his part for Beethoven's String Quartet No. 14, which he had been perfecting for a collaboration, but still couldn't shake the ghost-touch of Eddy's hand engulfing his.

If there was a way to do this without royally screwing up every good thing they had worked for, he would do it in a heartbeat. He wished there was someone he could ask for advice, but the person he always asked was Eddy.