I’d wanted to. If Cal hadn’t shown me the grace of not saying goodbye, I would have swallowed every ounce of pride I’d gained over twenty-nine years of life and begged him not to leave me. I would have forgotten that I wanted what was best for him and worried only about myself, about how much I would miss him, how I didn’t want to live without him.

“I’ll rephrase my question: why did you let him leave without you? Why didn’t you go with him?” Maks asked.

I stared at Maksim as if he’d asked me to solve the mysteries of the universe and broker world peace. “Go with him? How could I do that?”

“Where did he move to, the moon? What do you mean how could you do that? You get on a train or a bus and you go.”

“San Francisco.”

“Aces,” Maks nodded, impressed. “It’s supposed to be nice there.”

“I guess he likes it.”

“Have you been in touch?” he asked, his surprise evident.

“Not much.” Not enough.

“Because things were over before he left, or because you can’t bear that they’re over now?”

“That’s a loaded question,” I replied.

He nodded and took a swig of his Schlitz.

“I didn’t want them to be over, things between him and me. A lot of shit happened, and this is what I’m left with.”

“This is what you’ve accepted, Vik,” Maks corrected. “Why are you here?”

“Philosophically? Or—” I began, interrupted by Maks’ fingers squeezing my cheeks together and his face moving inches away from mine.

“Why are you here when you should be there?” He looked more serious than I had ever seen him. “What’s here for you? A numbers game? A father who ruined your outlook on life and then changed his tune to suit his mood? A brother who, in all honesty, wants nothing to do with you right now? A cousin who annoys the piss out of you?”

“My cousin is annoying,” I replied, my voice muffled by my fish lips as he squeezed me tighter. I knocked his wrists away and let out a heavy sigh. “What would I tell them?”

“Goodbye,” he offered. “You can just say goodbye.”

“And they won’t ask questions?” I scoffed.

“You could lie. You’ve been doing that for most of your life, haven’t you? Or you could light a match, set fire to everything, and tell them the truth. I would be a spectator for those fireworks.”

“That will never happen,” I assured, not wanting to borrow problems when I had enough of my own. “And then I’ll get to San Francisco and what then?”

“Then you chased the little light of happiness you have in your life, and you won’t die with regrets.”