Proving I was a pussy, I didn’t tell Cal to leave though I knew it was the right thing to do, but I did make him promise he would never let me know when he did decide to go. I wanted him to disappear while I was out selling numbers, slip away so I didn’t dread the impending day. Without goodbye, and a final moment between us, it would be as though our love hung in the air, stretching from here to there, never ending even if it could not go on. I wondered how long it would be before I realized he was gone, how many hours would pass with me trying to grasp at hope I knew was just beyond my reach because I had put it there.

“Do you know what I feel like doing?” Cal asked, sitting up and abruptly nudging my knee with the toe of his boot. “Hey. Wake up.”

“I’m not sleeping,” I groused, unsure if I had been or not.

“You were snoring.”

“I was thinking.”

“It’s called dreaming when you think during your sleep,” he corrected with a grin. “Maybe nightmaring if you’re thinking about bad things.”

“That’s not even a word,” I chided, deciding what I was doing could be considered nightmaring.

“Does it matter?”

“Probably not,” I relented, raking my fingers through his pumpkin-hued hair.

“So, do you want to know what I feel like doing?” Cal repeated, but I was so far in my head I replied with the first thing on my mind.

“I feel like smashing pumpkins tonight,” I mused, watching the way the autumn sun glistened off the bend of one of his curls. “I would imagine each one was a Cubs player’s head and give them a big whack, try to beat some wins into them.”

“I think that would be counterproductive,” he chuckled, “and it seems like you’re harboring a lot of anger about the season.”

“When am I not?”

“That’s a good point,”

“You know, your head looks like a pumpkin.”

“You’re a dick,” Cal laughed, scrunching his face as if he was trying to determine where the hell the statement had come from.

“A good-looking pumpkin,” I clarified, smirking. “You’re the prettiest one in the patch.”

He laughed harder and shook his pumpkin head. “You’re off the cob.”

“You’re out of your gourd,” I retorted.

“Alright, alright,” he said, holding his side, his cheeks tinging pink. “Enough.”

I never considered myself a funny guy, but the way I amused Cal made me believe that I was more hilarious than I had initially thought.

“I want to go to the Jewel Food Store to get a Snickers,” Cal decided, gesturing for me to stand up. “I have a craving.”

“When do you not?” I teased.