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Dan stared east over the Atlantic Ocean, back toward Britain. Behind him was a lighthouse and in front of him were a few fishing boats and a pleasure craft or two, bobbing on the grey waves stirred up by the brisk wind. It was nearly noon, but the sun was low in the sky and its light was the slightly murky gold of autumn. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and thought it might already be time for his puffer jacket: the coast of Maine turned out to be chillier than Canada.
His hand wrapped around the phone in his pocket. He had been in North America for more than a week already, having flown into Toronto ahead of schedule in order to adjust to the time change and meet the crew that would tour the continent with him. He now had three Canadian shows under his belt, and his revised patter, stripped of some Britishisms and tailored for the New World, seemed to have worked well with his audiences. Of course, Canadians were not Americans, and America was a much darker and weirder place than the last time he toured the country, just four years ago. “We're All Doomed”, the theme of his show, felt just a bit more real here. U.S. elections were coming up soon and it looked as though the results would be grim, making the people who were likely coming to his shows especially anxious and gloomy.
Of course, most of the people coming to his shows would be his fans. That made it easier: because they knew all the in-jokes and could be counted on to be supportive as he found his feet as a stand-up comedian. It also made it harder: he didn't want giving his fans what they expected to keep him from reaching another audience who might respond to a louche and depressive British gay Millennial making jokes about the end of the world.
Dan realised he was still holding his phone, and slowly relaxed his fingers. He felt good about his show, and he was still doing a good job taking care of himself. He was managing his sleep okay, eating healthy and mostly vegan, and had made himself go outside every day. He had also made the executive decision to fly ahead when there was a longer distance between cities, letting the small crew in the bus catch up with him. And so he'd had the pleasure this morning of flying over hundreds of miles of dense forests coloured in every shade of yellow, orange, and red—from the palest cream to the deepest magenta.
“Ready for lunch?” Emma, the Portland-based liaison, had appeared at Dan's elbow.
“Sure. What's good?”
“Local specialty?”
“Okay....!” Dan's mind had wandered briefly, but he remembered in time to smile and look enthusiastic. Emma would be good lunch company, and she had already given him space to enjoy the view. It wasn't time yet to go back to the hotel and shut himself in the room with headphones on and laptop open.
They drove through a quaint seaside neighbourhood mostly battened down for the winter but aflutter with Pride, Black Lives Matter, and Ukrainian flags. Dan pulled out his phone for a quick picture of a cottage festooned with every possible flag, along with a row of political campaign signs. He put the phone away before he could yield to the temptation of scrolling through his social media or checking his texts. His settings were on Do Not Disturb for a reason. He searched about for a conversational topic. They had already discussed tour logistics (everything was going smoothly), the weather (he was lucky it hadn't rained yet so the fall colour was still at its peak), and a brief history of this small city perched on the rocks in the upper right-hand corner of this vast country.
Dan gestured toward another cluster of political signs. “People here seem enthusiastic about the election.”
Emma snorted. “Scared, more like. At least it's getting people voting. Not that what we think here in New England matters much to most of the country.”
Dan opened his mouth to quip about just holding on till the bastards die off, but closed it again quickly. That humour didn't go over well apparently; sometimes people took him too seriously. Anyway—
“You've got Bernie Sanders here, don't you?”
He was sure Emma rolled her eyes ever so briefly before shaking her head with a smile. “No, that's Vermont. Two states over.”
“Right.” Chastened by his lapse in American geography, Dan wondered if enough time had passed since he'd checked his texts. He was saved however as Emma pulled the car in front of an unassuming restaurant.
“In summer, there's a line down the block. Not so much now.” Emma held the restaurant door open and Dan walked in—to be confronted by a tank full of water and large, brown, insect-like creatures.
“Local specialty!” Emma continued cheerfully. “I won't make you pick and eat one. That can be a bit much for lunch. We'll just have lobster rolls.”
“Er.” Dan wasn't strict about being vegan. He had learned that being flexible was much better than being rigid. He made exceptions for certain treats, like particular chicken pizzas, and he wasn't above an occasional indulgence in milk or cheese, even though half the time it was mostly to give Phil a chance to tease him. He wasn't enthusiastic about seafood, but he was determined to try new things.
Emma shooed him toward a table while she went to the counter to order. Dan wandered toward the seat as his mind wandered toward the time Phil made him try caviar on camera. To pull himself back to the present, he looked over to the next table where a bib-wearing fellow was cracking open the claw of the bright red boiled lobster sat in front of him. Lobster rolls, which were apparently a sandwich spread with lobster meat and mayonnaise, definitely sounded like a better idea.
When they were done, and Dan had admitted that lobster was tasty, Emma ducked into the restroom and Dan pulled out his phone. He had sent Phil a quick text when he landed in Portland. He hadn't gotten an immediate response, which was fine. They were both being mindful of taking a break from their phones, so they had agreed that they wouldn't necessarily be jumping on every text. (And of course they would call in an emergency. Dan had only used that once so far this trip, when a wave of loneliness overwhelmed him.) It was taking willpower, but Dan was finding it a little easier every day to pull his hand back out of his pocket and look at the world around him instead.
There was no answer from Phil. Dan stared at the phone while a thousand thoughts flew into his mind. Phil had stepped into the road and been struck by a lorry. Phil had snuck out of the house, borrowed a dog from a shelter, and had somehow got lost in a park outside London with no cell service. Phil had such a terrible migraine that he couldn't reach his phone. Phil didn't love him any more and had forgotten all about him.
“All right?” Emma had the car keys in her hand. “I thought I'd drop you at your hotel and come back and get you two hours before the show starts.”
Dan shoved his phone back into his pocket and lurched to his feet. “Sure. Yes. Of course.”
He didn't try to converse on the drive back through the city. The sky had clouded over and without the golden sunlight pouring over it, the landscape looked a bit drab. Even the brilliant colours on the trees were muted. He couldn't believe he'd spent hours enjoying the fucking scenery without worrying that something might have happened to Phil.
Emma dropped him at the entrance to the hotel, with assurances of when she'd return and how excited she was for the show. Dan mumbled his thanks for everything she was doing, and headed toward the door. He thrust his hands into his pockets. He held onto his phone, but did not pull it out. Inside, he ducked his head and slouched toward the elevator.
“I wonder if that's that dude who's doing standup at the State Theatre tonight. That gay one. I think he's English, he's got such a posh accent. I hear his lives in a fabulous penthouse with the best guy in the world.”
Dan's steps slowed under the assault of this nonsense. A smile grew and grew on his face as he turned around.
“You idiot!”
The elevator doors opened and Dan yanked the person behind him inside, pressed the close door button, and wrapped himself into the best hug this side of the Atlantic Ocean, Phil's breath like soothing waves in his ear.