Chapter 3
Night One
Julian
Julian paced from his living room into his bedroom then back into his living room again, trying to find the goddamn cat.
Felix liked to play this game in the middle of the night: cause some sort of alarming crash, then scurry under the furniture or on top of a bookshelf when Julian came to check on him.
Often, he was skulking around the fish tank in Julian’s home office, as if he were only one lucky break away from a snack.
Other nights, he was as elusive as sleep was to his owner.
Julian once spent forty-five minutes searching for him only to discover him in the dryer, which he had left slightly ajar earlier in the day.
Julian was not actually a fan of cats. Nor was he a fan of fish, but four years after Robin died, Simone moved out for college, and his boss suggested he get a pet.
When it became obvious that Julian was going to ignore his boss’s suggestion because he was both pigheaded and fastidiously devoted to his routine, the boss, always one for protocol and hierarchical command, had the tank—and sixteen different fish—delivered on a Saturday when he knew that Julian wasn’t on the road.
When Julian complained to Simone, she suggested a cat as a joke.
She probably said it because she was only half listening, not because she wanted the cat to eat all the fish and resolve Julian’s problem, but he remembered that Robin had a cat when they first started dating, and he figured maybe that would be nice. Maybe Robin would approve.
“Felix!” he shouted into the kitchen. Nothing.
“Felix!” He checked the bathroom and opened the under-the-sink cabinets. Nothing.
This was how Julian was going to die. He knew it.
Alone, looking for a cat, up all night loaded with regrets.
He took a deep breath, felt the air rattle in his chest, which was happening more frequently these past few months, and sank onto his couch.
He fought his impulse to retreat to his office and review old files; once he did that, he’d never make it back to bed.
He opted instead to text Simone—she’d still be awake.
He knew that she didn’t really want to hear from him all that much and that he needed to do more to bridge their gap than send her late-night texts. But it was at least a start.
Julian: Hi Simmy, you up?
He had to retype it three times because his fingers were tingly and felt a little disconnected from his body.
He imagined her phone buzzing on her nightstand, her reaching for it, rolling her eyes.
Simone: Dad, not really. Can we talk another time?
Julian double-tapped her message and gave it a thumbs-up, masking the slap he felt from her dismissiveness.
He knew to expect it. He thumbed over his screen and logged into the forum he’d found a few months ago when it became clear his sleeplessness had embedded itself into his life as much as breathing had.
His phone vibrated within seconds.
Mama2Twins: hey buddy, just checking on you and saw that you’re online. Another night staring at the ceiling?
Initially, Julian had wondered how secure the forum was, if it were smart to use his real email, to forge connections with strangers.
He ostensibly knew better. He wasn’t your typical clueless elderly dude, as Simone liked to tease when she felt like they had a relationship where she could tease him.
He was up on technology and online security and wasn’t about to be duped by, say, an email telling him that he had been gifted ten million dollars by a Nigerian prince.
But Mama2Twins had greeted him so kindly when he first logged in that his hackles softened, his edges blurred.
Dad, you run a candy store, he could hear Simone say.
Just relax, okay? No one is looking to, like, steal your identity.
KingofQueens: Spent the night looking for my cat (don’t ask). Now, yes, staring at the ceiling long enough to draw you a diagram of the paint peeling.
He rolled his wrists, trying to limber up, loosen his joints. He was going to have to speak with his doctor about his meds.
Mama2Twins: different night, same problems. Want to join us for Sudoku?
Julian didn’t know who “us” was, and he honestly didn’t want to join any sort of bigger group discussion at all, but he didn’t want Mama2Twins to hop off their chat and abandon him.
Soon enough, he and Mama and Beartown were in a heated race to pair up numbers into empty boxes.
An absolute ridiculous waste of time, but it’s not like any of them had anyplace else to be.
The game dwindled after an hour, and Julian found that he didn’t want to log off.
He was used to being alone without Robin and postretirement, but being alone in the interminable stretch of predawn hours was a different sort of emptiness.
If he hopped off the forum, he knew he would indeed find his way into his office and drive himself crazy with would haves, should haves, could haves, with micromanaging all the small screw-ups that led to an avalanche.
Not that he had many doubts, but yes, there was one.
KingofQueens: Hey, long-shot but any chance you guys are on the east coast? Educated guess because we’re up at the same time.
He had always been excellent at putting clues together.
Mama2Twins: I’m just outside New York City. First suburb on the train.
Beartown: No shit! I’m actually in the city. Right by the park.
Julian felt a pang of nostalgia for when he would take Simone to the carousel on crystal-clear spring days and let her ride as many times as she wanted.
Or trek through the zoo and watch the seals.
Or buy ice cream from the truck on the 72nd Street Transverse and race to see who could eat it before it dripped down the outsides of their hands.
Robin was still alive; he was still a semipresent father; the job that consumed much of his waking hours was his.
The idea tumbled out of him before he could realize what he’d proposed.
KingofQueens: I’m right near both of you actually—in Queens.
Sorry, it’s a stupid handle. Feel free to say no since meeting strangers from the internet is probably ill-advised and I should say, I promise I’m not a serial killer, but…
wondering if you guys would like to meet?
There’s an all-night diner on the Upper West Side I used to go to, near Columbia.
Maybe this would feel less lonely if we did it face to face, like our own little Insomniacs club. Any takers?