I was still anxious enough that my voice got trapped in my throat. I struggled to make a sound, any sound, that would signify that someone else was on the line, but my body had frozen completely.

“Hello?” Mr. Miranda prompted, “Who is this?”

I could tell he was about to hang up, so I bit back some of my fear and managed, “Is Roman there?”

For a moment it was quiet. I thought perhaps he hadn't heard me, or that maybe this was an entirely different Miranda family, but then I heard him calling out his son's name.

“Hijo, someone's on the phone for you.”

Another moment of silence before Roman greeted me. I couldn't help the sob that escaped when I heard him. Suddenly the entire situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I had no idea how much time had passed, no idea where I was or how I got there. This city was completely foreign to me, and all the fear and anxiety that had disappeared with Auntie Momo had just returned, doubled.

“Julian??” Roman asked, “Jules, is that you?”

He sounded concerned, and I could only sob again.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“I don't know..”

“Fuck.” Roman said. In the background I heard a 'Language, Mijo!' and a few words muffled by what must've been his hand over the receiver, before he addressed me again, “What do you see, Jules? Are there any signs, anything near you?”

I was tired. Exhausted down to my bones, but I knew I'd never get home if I couldn't even figure out where I was, so I looked. I knew it was Market Street, but there was probably a Market street in nearly every city in the area. Despite its name, this section of the street seemed more residential than commercial. I cried more, listening to Roman try to soothe me over the phone.

“What are you calling me from?” He asked.

“A payphone,” I said.

“Payphones still exist??” His father's voice murmured in the background again, and I cursed myself for not paying better attention in Spanish class the previous semester. “My dad says that some payphones have the address listed on them somewhere.”

I bent over to inspect it, trying to discern any meaning from the ancient letters, but they were too faded to read. My hope was escaping me, and Roman's voice over the line was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.

Then I remembered the business card. I retrieved it from my pocket and looked at the back. There was nothing there, but before I could be too disappointed, a low hum of magic gave me a word, and before me Auntie Momo's address spelled itself out in gold letters.

“Salem,” I said, “46 Cedar Street.”

“Salem?? That's like two hours away.” I felt awful, “Look, just get somewhere safe and warm nearby. We're coming to get yo--” The phone clicked off and I panicked. I wasn't on Cedar street. I didn't even know where Cedar Street was, but it had spilled out of my mouth as I read the golden typeface. I wanted to call back but the spell for the number had already drifted out of my mind and floated into the ether.

Now I was alone, in the middle of nowhere, with two dollars of coins and no idea what to do next. I looked back down at the business card clutched in my white-stained fingers, and let out a breath.

When Auntie Momo picked up I wasn't surprised that she knew who it was immediately.

“Don't you worry your cute little head!” She said, bright and cheery like when I'd met her, “I'm coming to get you right now.”

I probably should've been scared of the stranger declaring they were on their way to get me. That was probably how a lot of murder stories started, but I was exhausted and cold and my magic was quietly telling me it was okay to trust her. So when a car pulled up to the sidewalk and Auntie Momo rushed out of the passenger seat – make-up off but no less glamorous – I let her guide me easily into the back seat and closed my eyes as we drove away.

Auntie Momo's apartment was five minutes from the payphone, but she seemed to realize I wasn't in the mood for contributing to the conversation. Instead she gabbed endlessly about some local lawyer that kept showing up at her shows with gifts. She sounded more put off than anything, and every minute or so she would look at the driver and ask if he remembered any number of events.

“And the pearl earrings!” She said, aghast, “Do you remember the pearl earrings, Noah?”

The driver chuckled, “Yes, I remember the pearl earrings. You didn't stop talking about them for days, and he only gave them to you last week.”

“I mean!” She all but yelled as Noah parked. She continued as we walked up the steps to the apartment, “What am I supposed to do with pearl earrings? I'm not some sixties cheerleader. I told him that, I said, 'Who do you think I am, some cheerleader from the sixties?'”

I didn't realize I'd been smiling at her story until Auntie Momo cast me a look as she was fishing her keys from her purse. She smiled back.

“There you are,” She said, pulling the keys free, and I had to wonder if she was talking to them or me.

Auntie Momo's apartment was clean and warm and just on the right side of welcoming. If it weren't for the plush rug and abundance of pillows, I would've thought it was a high end loft show-room. I felt like an ambulatory stain just stepping inside, so I stood awkwardly in the hall, watching her shuck off her impressive heels and massive coat.

Noah took his own shoes off and wandered to the couch like a zombie.

“You owe me.” He said, flopping onto it before pointing at her.

“I'll buy you a six pack tomorrow. Don't you dare fall asleep on the couch again.”

The only response she got was a muffled grunt, which she merely waved off as she swept into the kitchen.

“Come in here, darling, I've got plenty of food and drinks to choose from.” She called out. I hesitated only briefly before shuffling in, hovering near the granite island. “Poor thing, you look so cold. I'll make you some cocoa and you help yourself to those cookies there. I got them from the bakery downstairs. We passed it on the way in. Sheffield's it's called, although I think the owner's name is Blake. Josie Blake, maybe? Or Jill? She's a bit shy like you.”

I took a cookie off the plate and bit into it as she spoke. It almost seemed like it was impossible for her to stop. “Actually, I don't think anyone is as shy as you are. But that's alright. Right now society is entirely for loud, middle-aged, straight, cis, white men, and that's useless to me. You be whatever you wanna be, darling. And if someone makes a fuss about it, I'll come in and kick their ass. “

The kitchen clock declared it to be well past nine, and I felt bad about making Roman drive two hours just to come pick me up. I rubbed my eyes blearily, lost somewhere between wanting to sleep and trying not to cry. Momo noticed as she scooped some chocolate powder into a mug.

“Look at me, gabbing your ear off when you're that damn exhausted.” She smiled, “You can set up in the guest room if you like. Usually Noah's in there but we both know he's already lost to the world on the sofa, so that makes the guest room fair game.”

“I...” I choked for a moment, but Momo looked content to wait for me to speak, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Someone is coming to pick me up.”

“A good someone?” Momo said, her voice quiet but hard, “Or a less than good someone?”

Roman's face flashed across my mind and I couldn't help the blush that spread to my ears.

“A very good someone, then?” She smiled, and poured the steaming milk into the mug. I looked away, still red, “And does this very good someone know how you feel?”

I considered it for a moment. Two weeks before I fell through the ground I would've said no. I would've said there was a good chance he didn't even know I existed. Now I was stuck in a gray area where we had shared history that I couldn't remember, and I knew intimately what my hand felt like encased in his.

“I don't know.” I said, quietly.

For the next hour and a half I drank cocoa, ate cookies, and listened to Auntie Momo (or Andre, as he preferred to be called when he wasn't performing) talk endlessly about the various loves of his life. He told me about his first, who died young, he told me about the girl he thought he'd gotten pregnant, he told me about the man who only painted with shades of green, he told me of Noah, whom he loved, but who did not love him in return.

“He's still my love, even if it's one sided. I will always cherish him.” Andre's smile took on a sad tone as he looked at Noah, sleeping blissfully on the couch, “I used to say I could never live without him. But that's very dramatic. I think if I had to live without him I'd be pretty sad for a while, but I'd learn to move on. You can't place your entire life in someone else's hands just because you think you're in love. Love can happen a million times over, each time just as special as the last, and if you've given your whole heart to someone who doesn't even want it, you miss out on all the beautiful adventures you could have elsewhere.”

As it got closer to eleven-thirty, Andre started to bundle back up. The nights were still brisk and he was rather adamant about not letting me stand outside, alone, in a strange city, for however long it would take the Miranda's to show up. He was also not impressed by my faded hoodie. After a bit of digging in the hall closet, he managed to pull free a long black coat with gray fur trim. It looked expensive, but he refused to let me leave the apartment without it, ignoring my protests as he pulled it over my shoulders.

We sat on the stoop of his apartment, bundled up and waiting. Andre continued to tell stories in a calming voice the entire time, and I was surprised to find that I didn't actually mind it. Part of me wondered if he was doing it entirely for my own benefit, keeping his tone low, his voice soft, just to keep my anxiety down. He also never expected me to respond, filling in any gaps or lulls easily on his own.

I stood when the lights of a dark SUV came down the road. Andre stood behind me, close enough that I could feel his presence, and I knew he was preparing to protect me if he needed to.

The car slowed as it got closer, but hadn't even come to a complete stop before one of the back doors swung open. Roman rushed out of the car and ran up to me so fast I barely had time to react. Suddenly his hands were on my cheeks and he was checking me over for injuries. Andre, who'd tensed behind me when he saw Roman running, loosened his grip on whatever he was hiding in the pocket of his massive fur coat, probably realizing he wasn't a threat.

“God, Julian!” Roman said, still looking me over, “I didn't know where you went, I was so worried! Fuck, I thought you'd died!”

“Language Mijo!” I recognized his father's voice. He'd parked the car against the sidewalk and stepped out, hovering near the open door. He looked a tad concerned about the towering presence in a fluorescent pink coat, but didn't say anything.

“Papá lo siento. ¡Solo estaba preocupado!” Andre said, somewhere behind me.

“¿Cómo conoces a Julian?” Mr. Miranda said. I wasn't sure what he'd said other than my name, and I got a little concerned about what their conversation entailed. Roman didn't seem too worried as he pulled me into a warm hug.

“Lo encontré. Estaba teniendo un ataque de pánico en un banco, así que le preparé un poco de cacao.” Andre said. I managed to make out 'panic attack' and 'cocoa', but beyond that I was lost.

It didn't really matter anyway. Roman was hugging me tightly, my head tucked against his neck, and suddenly my body recalled all of the exhaustion from earlier. I would've fallen to my knees if Roman hadn't steadied me. The conversation continued as Roman helped me to the car. Andre followed us and for a moment I thought he wanted his coat back. I tried to take it off, but he stopped my ministrations and smiled at me.

“No, no, no, hermanito. It looks much better on you than it ever did on me.” He said, “Now you keep your hands on my card and call me if you ever need anything, alright? One phone call and Auntie Momo comes running.”

I gave him a small smile, then climbed into the back seat.

The drive was quiet. Roman's mother had passed a warm blanket to me from the front seat, and Roman had put it over me, covering me from my shoulders down to my toes. He didn't seem to mind much when my head fell to his shoulder, only taking my hand back in his and giving it a little squeeze.

I had questions floating around in my head. How long had I been gone? What had happened when I'd fallen through the earth? Had they looked for me? I looked up at Roman, intent on asking them, but his smile seemed to promise me we could talk about it in the morning.

The radio was off, his parents were quiet, the only sound was the hum of the car driving down the highway. It almost sounded like the earth's hum, and I could feel it calling me to sleep. I drifted off, safe under the warm blanket, safe in Mr. Miranda's car, safe pressed against Roman's side, my hand in his.