CHAPTER 16 #4
The next morning he woke up early and was just finishing up a run when he noticed a missed call from Nancy, including a voicemail.
They’d exchanged numbers a while back and texted from time to time.
Hannah too. Wylie wanted his people to keep in touch, and he’d asked Diego to check in on both of them in his absence.
He pressed play on his voicemail and Nancy’s raspy voice came on the line.
“Hey, Diego, it’s Nancy, Nancy Miller. I just got off the phone with Wylie and, well, he doesn’t sound too good.
Not sick or anything, but he seems…down.
He gets like that sometimes. After his mother died, he got a little depressed.
Wouldn’t eat or get out of bed. Worried me a bit.
Anyway, I was hoping you might be able to give him a call and let me know what you think.
I know school’s been hard and being away from all of us is tough on him too.
Anyway, that’s all. Hope you’re doing well. ”
Immediately after listening to her voicemail, Diego found Wylie’s name in his recent numbers and pressed Call, counting out the seconds while trying to calm his racing thoughts.
Nancy wouldn’t call him unless she was really worried.
And Wylie had never said anything to him about depression.
ADHD, sure, but not depression. But, he had hinted at it, hadn’t he?
The call went to voicemail so Diego ended it and tried again straightaway, determined to keep calling until he got Wylie on the line. He needed to hear his voice and make sure he was okay. Finally, a few rings later, a very spaced-out sounding Wylie answered.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Wy, it’s me, Diego.”
“Oh, hey.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I wasn’t sleeping. Not really.”
“Thought I’d call and check in on you. How’s it going?” Diego was trying to keep it light, though he didn’t feel any relief, especially with Wylie sounding so out of it. The resulting silence stretched on for so long that Diego had to ask again, “Wy, you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m here,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“What’s going on?”
Another long pause, and then Wylie said in a quiet, shaky voice. “I think…maybe…I’m not doing so great.”
It’d been nearly two weeks since Diego had last spoken to him, and he hadn’t seemed like himself then either.
Wylie told him that he was having a tough time—with school, with living on his own—and Diego had just chalked it up to homesickness.
But this was something more. Diego started making plans, even as he kept Wylie talking.
“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?” Diego asked, trying to be gentle without letting on how worried he really was.
“Dunno. A while.”
“What do you have in the house?”
“Not much. Haven’t been able to go to the store.”
“And sleep. How’s that been?”
“Bad,” Wylie said with a sniffle, sounding like he was on the verge of tears. Even more concerning was the fact that he was completely alone up there without a friend in the world, not even someone who could stop by and check on him.
“Okay,” Diego said, taking charge for Wylie’s sake. “This is what you’re going to do now. First, go pour yourself a glass of water and drink it. I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do it.”
Diego heard the sounds of a chair squeaking, a fridge opening and shutting, and a glass of water being poured. He waited as Wylie did as he was told. “Okay,” he said listlessly when he came back on the phone.
“Did you drink all of it?” Diego asked.
“Yeah,” Wylie said and that was it. The long stretches of silence were unnerving to Diego, another signal that Wylie was not okay.
“Do you have any food in the house? Anything at all?” Diego asked.
“Some bread and butter, I think.”
Diego wondered how long he’d been living off of just that, but he didn’t ask. One thing at a time. “I want you to eat a butter sandwich and then lie down in bed for an hour or so. You don’t have to fall asleep, but I want you to lie down, okay?” Diego said.
“Yeah, okay.”
“I have a few things to do here, but I’m going to call you back in a little bit, and I want you to answer if you’re still awake. Got it?”
“Yeah, I got it,” Wylie said, sounding somewhat relieved.
“All right, then, sit tight, and I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Diego?” Wylie said, sounding both pitiful and dejected.
“Yeah?”
“I really miss you.”
Diego’s heart felt like it was cracking open, concern and love for this man just pouring out and puddling there on the floor. Why had he been so stubborn? Why had he made this so hard? “Me too, sweetheart. I really miss you too.”
Diego hated to hang up the phone, but he had to make some calls.
First, to his probation officer to get the required permission to leave the county.
That went surprisingly well–the good rapport he’d built with Officer Watson had clearly paid off.
His second call was to Nancy to let her know what was going on, and his third, to Hannah, to see if she could get his shifts covered for the next few days.
Diego was done with running away from what he wanted, he was heading straight toward it, praying he wasn't already too late.