Lincoln didn’t say a word.
“As a friend,” Sebastian added. Lincoln didn’t reply.
The silence became uncomfortable until Sebastian felt like he had to say something else.
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
Lincoln gave him a long, hard, assessing look. “Okay,” he said. “But what if she hurts you?”
For a minute, Sebastian didn’t know what to say. “What do you mean?”
Lincoln pressed his lips together. “Do you remember when Lana and I broke up?”
Sebastian did. Lincoln and his girlfriend had gotten together the September of their sophomore year, and were together and happy for the next almost two years. Then, the summer before senior year, Lana had gotten a summer internship in Mexico City, and had told Lincoln she wanted to see other people; that it made sense for them to have some freedom before committing to a serious relationship. Lincoln hadn’t been happy, but agreed. They’d had the most cerebral and civilized breakup Sebastian had ever seen. Then Lana had gone off to Mexico, and Lincoln had gone home, to New York, where he’d been fine, until the day in July when Lana had posted a picture of herself, smiling in the arms of a handsome colleague named Jorge. That afternoon, Lincoln had shown up at the Jersey Journal, where Sebastian was interning. His eyes were red-rimmed, and he’d smelled like marijuana and beer, which was completely unprecedented. He’d gone online, found the cheapest flight to Mexico that had two seats available, and was leaving the next day.
“Come with me,” he’d told Sebastian. “I have to get her back.”
Instead of accompanying him to Mexico, Sebastian had brought him home, to Lincoln’s parents’ place on the Upper West Side, where Lincoln was staying for the summer. They’d sat in the kitchen, and, clumsily, Sebastian had tried to console his friend, and explain why flying down to Mexico was a bad idea. You and Lana agreed on this, he’d said. Give her a chance to look around. Once she realizes how much better you are for her, she’ll come back. If you love something, set it free!
Lincoln had glared at him. “If you start quoting memes at me, I will end your life.”
Sebastian had stayed with him, sleeping on the floor of Lincoln’s childhood bedroom. Lincoln hadn’t cried—at least, not in front of Sebastian. He hadn’t broken plates, or burned clothes, or even deleted all of Lana’s pictures from his phone or blocked her on social media. He’d just been quietly, thoroughly, abjectly miserable for the rest of the summer. Sebastian remembered lots of sighing and long silences. Lincoln had lost weight, and he’d barely smiled. It was as if all the world had lost its savor; like there was no pleasure left for him anywhere. Sebastian had done his best to help. He’d gotten Lincoln set up on the apps, and Lincoln had gone on a few dates with girls he met on them, and a daughter of his parents’ friends, but nothing had taken. Lana was the only one he wanted.
In the hospital corridor, Sebastian groped for the right words. “I remember. It was hard for you.”
“Hard for me,” said Lincoln, and shook his head. “It felt like chewing on glass, every day. I wanted to die. I mean, I wasn’t actually going to kill myself, but that’s how much it hurt. I didn’t want to be in a world where I wasn’t with her, where she didn’t want me. It hurt. And it kept on hurting until we were back together.” Which had taken months, Sebastian remembered.
“Do you understand?” Lincoln asked him. “If you’re in a relationship with someone, if you let yourself be vulnerable, you can get hurt.”
“I know.”
Lincoln’s expression was dubious. But Sebastian did understand. He got it. If he was with Abby, if he let himself love her, and if, somehow, she loved him, she would have his heart in her hands, every day. He would be giving her power to wound him, to hurt him, to make him not want to live. To leach all the color from the world; to steal all the savor from food; to turn minutes to hours and hours to days and the rest of his life into a painfully slow slog to its inevitable end. He shook his head in confusion… and admiration. How had Lincoln done it? How did anyone?
“It’s scary,” he finally said.
“But worth it,” said Lincoln. “If it works, if you find your person, everything you suffer is worth it.”
Abby
3:00 p.m.
Abby had her Uber stop at a drugstore on the way back from the hospital, and she ran across the sidewalk through the rain, hurrying up and down the aisles, gathering what she needed. After she’d made her purchases, her phone buzzed with a text from Kayla. All good. Just got in the sag wagon. Morgan seems fine. We’re on our way. Abby texted her mother next, who wrote back Still at the spa. Here until 4. Everything okay on your end?