Warm. The bed was warm but empty. Without him there, no matter how comfortable the sheets were, I couldn’t sleep. Not without his constant tossing and turning. His snoring could, at times, act like ambiance in a room. The way he’d fight with me in our sleep for more of the blanket until, somehow, we’d end up so close the war melted away.

I doubt I had ever slept in a bed with a thread count so high, but after that night, I could have gone the rest of my life without it. A bed was just a bed without Tom.

“How did you sleep?” Dill Weed greeted me as he followed me onto an elevator.

“I didn’t?” I said.

The doors shut while I rubbed the crust from my red eyes.

“You know, you can call him. You should call him,” Dill said and pushed a button to take us down to the lobby.

“We needed a break.”

“Long break or short break?” he asked.

“Dill...”

What was I supposed to say?

“When I picked you up, we were supposed to puff a few clouds, man. You never said anything about spending the night, leaving town, hiding from Tom. You’re my boy. I want to help, but,” he continued until the elevator doors opened.

People got on, and Dill held his tongue.

I shouldn’t have dragged him into my mess, but Dill Weed made it easy. He wasn’t the type to say no. Most people fought themselves to say “yes” in most situations, but not Dill. His first response was almost always, “Sure, man,” or, “Let’s do it!” Had I taken advantage? Yes, without question, but I had to.

It wasn’t until we got off the elevator that my friend spoke up again. I was on my way to the breakfast bar when, from behind me, he rested a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m all for leaving town for a weekend, I am, but it ain’t chill having to lie to your boyfriend. I don’t think he’ll believe I’m babysitting my grandpa forever.”

“I’ll talk to him. I swear. Just give me till the end of the convention,” I said.

“Then you’ll call him?”

“Then I’ll go home.”

He let me go, and I walked off before there was an opportunity to say more. I couldn’t speak well that morning, not without several cups of coffee.

Lux, a hotel in Vegas, was hosting a comic convention. I was lucky enough to have been invited despite my slim body of work. Had it not been for how things were back home, I might have skipped out on the opportunity. But I went.

The pyramid-shaped building was always crowded. Even though the breakfast bar was only open to guests, lines were nearly 30 bodies deep. Tom would have lost his mind having to wait so long for food he could have made at home. He probably would have taken us somewhere outside the hotel, but I hadn’t left the building all week. I hadn’t left my room in three days.

“Nick,” someone said.

“Harriet?” I turned my head and found the woman walking up.

People immediately gave her looks for seemingly cutting the line, and I didn’t feel like getting nagged by a school of old ladies.

“You haven’t been answering your phone,” Harriet said.

“Must have forgotten it in my room,” I said.

Harriet was old enough to have been my mother, but she worked as an editor on comics drawn by fresh young talent. Technically, she wasn’t my boss, but she had seniority and taught me in situations I was too green to.

“And everything else, I see,” she remarked on my clothes, or lack thereof.

I hadn’t noticed until she drew attention to it, but I was underdressed.

After life with the stout family, walking around in my underwear would have been nothing to me. However, I couldn’t blame them. My looking so sad and moping was all on me.

I was shirtless, walking around in socks I hadn’t changed in two days.

“I need you to get dressed and meet me in an hour. Someone is looking forward to,” Harriet started while the breakfast line shuffled slowly along.

“Pass,” I told her with a yawn.

“Nick, I’m doing my best to help you make connections.”

“Pass.”

“I’m aware of what you’re dealing with at home.”

“I said, pass, Harriet. Can’t I have a day?”

She had already given me several, but when we finally got within arm’s reach of the food, I was too distracted to consider more.

“I can stall until tomorrow. But Nick, you don’t want to waste an opportunity here.”

“Has your husband ever brought home one of his Xs to live with you?”

The words fell out of my mouth like any other, like I was exhausted making an effort to speak. But Harriet and anyone else who might have heard reacted, just as shocked as I might have expected. Despite the initial gasp and glare she gave, Harriet remarked, “I’ve been divorced twice.”

Pouring my coffee, I said, “I hear you, Harriet. I’ll pull myself together. I promise. But can I eat?” I brushed her away, and the line was too happy to push her to the back, a reasonable distance from me.

It seemed I was avoiding everyone, but that couldn’t last long.