I drove him back to go pick up his car, parked on Fiona and Bobby’s street. We didn’t talk about what either of us would say to them, if anything. I cringed a little, imagining the expression on Fi’s face.
“By the way,” Julian said before getting out of my car. “Can I get your number?”
* * *
? ? ?
The night before he left for New York, Julian drove up to LA again. He let Bobby apologize with an expensive steak dinner, and then he came over to my place. He smelled like a cigar, and I made him scrub down in the shower before getting in bed. This time I had condoms ready.
Afterward, he couldn’t sleep. I put my arms around him and held him for a while. I could feel his nervous energy bouncing all around, and underneath it, a vibrating melancholy.
“I wish,” he started to say.
“What?”
A short silence. Then: “I wish I could disappear,” he said haltingly. “If there was a way I could go away without hurting my family. Make it look like an accident. A car crash, or—I don’t know—if I fell off a cliff, something stupid like that.”
I asked him quietly if he was talking about hurting himself.
“Don’t worry, Jane. I’m not . . . suicidal.” He gave a hollow laugh. “I just want to disappear,” he said again. “I don’t want to exist.”
I tensed. “What does that mean?”
“I know it doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “That’s why it’s a wish.”
“You can’t just go around saying that,” I said. “Like it’s nothing. You don’t know me—”
“Do me a favor?” He turned to face me in the dark and made me promise not to tell Bobby about what he’d just said. “I don’t want him to tell my brother—”
“You don’t understand. My dad.” I hesitated a moment. “He committed—”
“Look,” Julian said flatly. “That isn’t what’s going on with me, okay?”
I didn’t say anything back.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m good.” A sharp edge had crept into his voice. “I’m sorry about your dad,” he said. “But I’ve had my psych evals. Talked to my boss, the chaplain, my buddies who were honorably discharged, the whole thing. I didn’t leave the Marines on a whim, okay? Do you know how hard they make it for you? I told you, my brother—my whole family—”
“Relax,” I said. “I’m just saying, it seems like you’ve probably been through some shit—”
“Don’t do that,” he said.
“You said you want to disappear.”
“Don’t you dare thank me for my fucking service—”
“What?” I said. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Can we just drop this?”
“Fine,” I said. “Forget it. It’s dropped.”
Then we were both silent.
After a while, he said, “I’m sorry, Jane.” I stayed quiet. “I’m lonely,” he said in a soft voice. “I’m so goddamn lonely. All the time. Everyday. Especially at night—and you’re so—”
He moved closer and started kissing my face, my ears, my neck. Everywhere except my mouth.
“Don’t,” I said. “Julian.”
“It’s my last night here.” In a whisper, he added: “I want to feel close to you.”
“I’m right here,” I said. “See?”
He sighed and turned to lie on his back.
“What happened?” he said, after a moment. “With your dad—”
“Nothing,” I said. Now it was my turn to be cold. “We weren’t close or anything.”
He asked if I had anything to drink, and I told him there were probably a few beers in the fridge.
“You want one?” he said. I shook my head. “So it’s okay, if I . . . ?”
“Knock yourself out.”
After that, I must have fallen asleep. When I opened my eyes, early-morning sunlight flooded the room. Julian stood by the door, dressed in the long-sleeved henley and brown corduroy pants he had on from last night.
“What time is it?” I rolled out of the bed and drifted over to him. “Did you even sleep?”
He said he had to head back down to San Diego; his flight to New York was that same night.
Through the front window, I watched him carry his duffel bag to the car and stow it in the trunk. I waved to him, but he didn’t wave back. Maybe he couldn’t see me, though it seemed as if he were looking right at me. I felt the magnet pulling me, drawing me to him. With difficulty I turned away from the window. I didn’t want to watch him drive away.