Fred had always known he was gay, but when he met James his freshman year at Chapel Hill University, he thought he finally understood why. Because he was meant to be with James. Fred’s mother had died in her bed when he was fifteen; his father died at the kitchen table when Fred was in college. That’s when Fred had to drop out and leave James, to come home and take over the store. He thought it was his father’s final punch, to take Fred away from something that finally brought him joy regardless of what people thought.

But after a tearful good-bye at school, to Fred’s surprise, James showed up in Bascom three weeks later.

Eventually, with time on his hands, James took classes at Orion while Fred ran the store. He got his degree in finance and a commuter job in Hickory. Over the years he encouraged Fred to get rid of everything that reminded Fred of his father and his cruelly withheld approval. It was James who said, “Let’s go out to eat. Let’s go to the movies. Let’s dare the people of this town to say something.”

And what was once youthful indiscretion, two twenty-one-year-olds quitting school and moving in together, finally answerable to no one, turned into more than thirty years of companionship. To Fred, those years seemed to pass like quickly skimming a book and then finding the ending wasn’t what he expected. He wished he had paid more attention to the story.

He wished he’d paid more attention to the storyteller.

He drove to Evanelle’s house. He’d forgotten his umbrella, so he had to run to the porch in the rain. He stopped at the door to take off his wet jacket and shoes. He didn’t want to get water all over her nice floors.

When he walked in, he didn’t see Evanelle anywhere, so he called out her name.

“I’m up here,” she said, and he followed her voice to the attic.

Evanelle was trying to sweep the sawdust that the workers had produced that day, but it was like trying to sweep tiny birds who flew away in a flurry when you touched them. She was wearing a white face mask, because every sweep of her broom sent the sawdust birds into the air, making the entire space beige and smoky.

“Please don’t do this. I don’t want you to wear yourself out,” Fred said, walking over to her and taking her broom. Being left makes you doubt your ability to keep people, even friends. He wanted Evanelle to be happy he was there, to do all he could for her. He couldn’t bear to lose her too. “The workers will clean up when they’re done.”