It wasn’t until well into the evening that Calvin had gotten in touch.

Before that, Mitch spent his day fretting, napping, and aimlessly scrolling on social media platforms. At one point, he’d painstakingly managed to get undressed to and showered, sometimes poking at the tender areas out of curiosity; unsurprisingly, they still hurt. The most exciting moment was when Ingrid stopped by the room to talk for a while.

When the call came, his pulse quickened at seeing the name on the screen.

“Hi!” He chirped, and was thankful that Jodie was elsewhere in the house.

“How’re you holding up?” came Calvin’s voice through the other end, and Mitch couldn’t gauge the mood.

“Painful,” he answered honestly. “I mean, it’s a hazard of the job, y’know?”

“Right.”

“I don’t uh…think I can drive right now. The doctor doesn’t advise it.” Mitch continued to talk to avoid gaps in the conversation. “Luckily it was my right arm, so I’m still pretty functional, but I don’t think that I can get back home on my own.”

He’d hoped that would have prompted some kind of reaction, something supportive, but all he got was a detached “Mhm.”

“I guess I could leave my car at Jodie’s and take a train back? I think The Amtrak goes to down New Haven, maybe you could grab me from the station?”

“Well,” Calvin started, then paused. It was a tone that Mitch had grown increasingly familiar with, and he felt his blood go cold. “Mitch.”

His brain turned to static. His limbs went numb. “Yeah?” He bit the inside of his cheek and gripped the fabric of his shirt as tightly as he could, knuckles going white.

Calvin spoke again. “I just-“

Mitch didn’t know if he was saying no no no no no in his head or under his breath, but that’s the only clear thing he could make out while Calvin gave what was now an annual spiel about how “this isn’t working anymore”. Usually it happened in person, and Mitch could argue in favor of working it out like adults, that it wasn’t fair to do this when Calvin didn’t ever communicate his grievances in the first place. How the hell was he supposed to read his mind?! They’d talk about going therapy. They’d spend a night apart, then they’d fuck next day. They’d be OK for a while, and Mitch could put off things like figuring out getting his own health insurance for just a little bit longer.

It always sucked in person. This was so, SO much worse.

During a stretch of unbearable silence, Jodie reappeared with Chinese takeout containers in her arms. He tried to turn away from her, but he could tell that she’d already seen his face, and the situation unfolding was given away.

“Hey, I…I think I’m gonna go,” Mitch’s voice cracked; like fissures forming in the earth’s crust, he knew he moments away from all of his insides spilling out. If Calvin said anything in response to that, it didn’t register. Nothing did.

The call was disconnected, and the phone was dropped onto the carpet.