“You weren’t going to pay for it anyway.” Joe slaps two twenties into his friend’s hand. “Go buy that cute baby of yours something nice and tell her it’s from Uncle Joey.”

Dale the baby has a baby?

Dale rolls his eyes. “She’s four months old. The only things she loves are bright colors and my girlfriend’s tits. Which, honestly, are both awesome.”

We drive back to Joe’s apartment afterward. I tell him he is great for looking after Dale. His concern for the guy shines through.

“He’s a good kid. A responsible one too. I like it when people show up and own up to their shit.”

“High moral ground wasn’t always a part of your charm.” I grin. “Remember when you found a loophole for my condom problem in Spain?”

“My real solution might’ve made you slap me silly. I wanted in that hypothetical condom real bad.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Really?” He smirks. “You wanted into that condom too?”

We both laugh.

“I feel like we’re in a limbo,” he tells me as we slide past familiar scenery I never really paid attention to before. I lived on autopilot, waiting for life to begin when it was already happening.

“We are kind of in a limbo,” I admit.

“Whose fault is that?”

Mine. It is all on me. And because of that, I keep silent. Unlike Dale, I don’t own up or show up where Joe is concerned. I’ve only started doing it with my family. Baby steps, right?

Joe’s nostrils flare. “I think I may be a rat.”

“Excuse me?” I whip my head to look at him.

“A rat. I think I am one.”

“Sorry, but you’re going to have to elaborate here.”

“In the 1950s, a guy named Curt Richter did a series of experiments on rats. It showed the resilience and power of hope. Basically, he threw rats into bucketsful of water and watched them drown. A group of them, he let die. Some took minutes. Some took days. But others, he offered help and support. Just when he felt that the rats were about to give up and give in, he would pull them up, giving them hope, before throwing them back into the bucket. He discovered that his hypothesis was right. Given a glimmer of hope, the rats decided to fight. They swam, mustering whatever energy was left in them to try to survive. I feel like I’m a rat. You show me a sliver of hope, and I jump at it. But I’m done jumping.”

I watch him silently, unsure of what to say.

“I’m not going to wait for you forever.” He speeds ahead, bypassing three cars in front of us. “At some point, I’m just going to drown.”

“I know.”