Sixteen
OWEN
I know he’s not there. I know . But that doesn’t stop me from seeing him everywhere. Because I want to see him everywhere.
When our eyes locked last week while I was stuck on a fucking float in a ridiculous parade, I thought I had simply manifested him there. I was so desperate to see him that I imagined him. But it was really him. The look on his face said as much. Zak was really there.
He wasn’t still there when I was finally able to get off the float and run back, though. He’d vanished into the crowd.
But today is the last straw. I can’t do this. He’s driving me absolutely insane with his game of destiny. This isn’t me. I make my own fucking destiny and fuck it if I don’t need this man like I need to breathe.
This is what has me parading my ass to his apartment and examining the more than two dozen apartment buttons. With a deep sigh, I press the first and wait for an answer.
“Yes?”
“Is Zak there?” I ask.
“There’s no Zak here.”
“Thanks.” I push the next one and wait.
“I’m looking for Zak.”
“Sorry, wrong apartment.”
“Does Zak live there?”
“No, man. Stop being a creep.”
“Is Zak home?”
Over and over I go until finally, there’s a pause when I ask.
“No.”
My breath catches. He just said no. Not that he didn’t live there.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?” I ask, testing the waters.
Another pause. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say.”
Finally, the right fucking apartment. I stare at the name—G. Elliott. “Do you know where he is?”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Owen.”
Another pause. “Come up.” The door buzzes and I step inside. The stairs are to my right, so I climb them to the third floor and find the apartment door open with a man standing in it.
He stares at me suspiciously and yet I’m confident he recognizes me.
“No, shit,” he mutters, shaking his head. Since I’m not quite sure how to interpret that, I just stare at him until I get a little more to go on. He sighs and backs inside. “Come in.”
I follow him inside. The apartment is neat, fairly spacious as far as New York apartments go, though not big by any means.
“Want a drink?” he asks.
I shake my head and take the seat he offers me. “Do you know where he is?” I ask.
“No, but I might be able to find out.”
“He doesn’t live here, then.”
He shakes his head and studies me. After a minute, he huffs and falls onto the couch. “He’s going to kill me for telling you this, but Zak doesn’t live anywhere. He’s… homeless, and bounces between my apartment and a couple of our friends’ places.”
My stomach clenches as a sour taste fills my mouth. Fuck, I knew he was starving. “Jesus,” I mutter.
“Why do you want to see him?” he asks.
“Without sounding like a stalker, because I’m pretty certain he was made for me. But fucking man keeps running.”
“You understand why now, don’t you?”
I shake my head. “Embarrassment?”
He smirks. “Yeah. But also, he’s convinced you come from two different worlds.”
I frown. “Like an alien?”
The man snorts laughter.
“Who are you?” I ask, before we get into further conversation.
“Gravity Elliott,” he answers, smiling widely. “Big fan, by the way.”
“Gravity. Okay. And thanks. Back to the alien thing.”
He laughs again. “No. I mean class. You heard what I said, right? Zak has nothing. He’s a stubborn bitch, so he’s determined to change his situation on his own without letting me or our friends help him.
He hates feeling like a charity case and he insists there are people worse off than him that need the resources available for him more than he does.
So he gets stuck in this cycle of not being able to change his situation.
But yes, Owen. You’re from the upper class.
He views himself as lower than the lower class. ”
I grimace. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I know,” Gravity says with a grin. “Let me see if I can find him. Hold please.”
I watch as he makes a couple calls. He speaks to those on the other end with a lot of familiarity. They’re not just Zak’s friends but his too. Gravity is also careful not to mention me or that there’s someone else looking for Zak.
“He’ll get spooked,” Gravity tells me as he hangs up the phone from his second call and sighs.
“Not at Clarinda’s, and he left Edgar’s a couple hours ago.
If he was headed this way, I think he’d already be here, but it’s a warm day, so he’s likely not trying to get out of the cold right away. Might mean he’s out looking for money.”
The names obviously don’t mean much to me, but I still take note of them. “How does he do that?” I ask. If he’s so against charity, I don’t see begging as something he’d be willing to do, either.
“There are a couple places between my place and Edgar’s that allow him to pick up some off-the-books work,” Gravity says. “I can text you the addresses and keep you posted if he shows up, if you like.”
“You don’t sound concerned,” I point out, taking his phone when he offers it.
Gravity shakes his head and gives me a sad smile. “I’m not going to tell you Zak’s story. It’s his to share if he chooses. But trust me when I tell you, this isn’t a new situation for him.”
My stomach drops. My chest aches. Taking a breath, I punch in my number and hand him back his phone. More than anything, I need to find him.
“Owen.” I look up, meeting Gravity’s eyes. “He’s probably not going to come easily. Please don’t give up on him.”
I shake my head. “That man is mine,” I say, getting to my feet. “I’ll happily fight for him until he figures that out.”
Gravity beams at me. “I’ll text you the places. I hope you find him.”
There’s no doubt in my mind. I will find him. There’s absolutely zero options outside that decision.
I actively avoid driving in the city. There’s far too much traffic and I’m always afraid of running someone over.
I took a rideshare here, but instead of calling another, I start punching in the addresses to the places Gravity sends me.
They’re very clustered together in one area, the first being less than two miles away.
Taking the most direct route, I start walking toward the first. I look at every single face I pass, watching everyone across the street and turning to stare into the faces of those I walk beside.
Half an hour later, I’ve freaked out half of Queens by doing this, which admittedly makes me laugh under my breath.
The first place is a bakery. I step inside and take a look around to see if I can see him anywhere. I don’t think he’s here. Stepping up to the counter, I ask the man if Zak’s there.
“Not today.”
I nod and thank him, heading back outside. It’s hard to decide in which direction to go right now. Any one I choose could be me passing him on a parallel street. Checking my phone, Gravity hasn’t messaged me again, so I keep moving.
I don’t consider myself an arrogant man. I’m not oblivious and I don’t think I’m particularly selfish. I’ve worked for my place in life. It wasn’t always easy, but I got where I am with my own sweat and hard work.
Maybe it’s wrong of me, but I’ve never paid much attention to the homeless. It’s never occurred to me to do so. I peek into windows on my way by, stare into faces as I pass them, freak out everyone when I stare a little too long to see if I recognize them.
The second address is for a tea shop. Zak isn’t there either. The third place is only a couple doors down, a bookstore. The man behind the counter is very kind and makes sure I know how good a kid Zak is, but he’s not there either.
Reminding myself I have no reason to worry—Gravity assures me I don’t—I try to keep the panic down as I look at my map for the next place. It’s on the other side of the park. Instead of walking around it, I decide to walk through it.
Gravity didn’t say anything about a park, but I don’t know what else to do. What if he’s not at any of these places? Where else would he go? What could he be doing right now?
He can’t be out of money. I sent him two grand two weeks ago.
Did he already go through that? I won’t say it’s impossible.
Not when you live in a place like New York City, and it costs $18 just for a cup of bitter water they’re calling coffee.
But I have to believe that someone who’s been living off the kindness of his friends and is as thin as a rail wouldn’t blow through their money irresponsibly.
Continuing through the park, I’m looking at all the faces. Even those I know can’t be him. Too young. Too old. Has a big chest. Too short. Hair too long.
Then I stop in my tracks when I see someone who looks remarkably like Zak sitting on a bench staring at nothing. His lips are parted slightly, his brows knitted together as if he’s upset about something. He’s alone, hands resting in his lap.
I blink several times, just to make sure he’s still there. Am I imagining him like I have so many other times before? Or is he really there? Did I just find the man I’ve been searching for my entire life?
Before he disappears, I change my trajectory and head for him. He doesn’t see me. Not even when I get close. I’m not sure he’s actually seeing anything at all right now as he stares off into space.
I crouch down in front of him and wait until he comes out of it. Until he’s back in the present with me. Finally, he’s right here. Right in front of me. I can feel him.
Zak might not know it yet, but I’m never letting him go again.