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It’s well past dinner when the phone rings, the last few glimmers of twilight slipping through night’s fingers like smoke.
It’s been a good day, Eddie thinks to himself as he drys the last of the dinner dishes and puts them into cupboards, complete with doors that stay firmly attached at the hinges.
Behind him warm light spills out of the living room where Chris is curled up on the couch reading his newest obsession, a sci-fi series Buck had recommended last week. Eddie’s been reading them too, Buck had recommended them to him first, wanting to be sure they weren’t too adult for Chris before sending him the first book in the mail, and Eddie’s been having a good time with them. The plot is fast paced and enjoyable, but the best part has been talking with his son about them, getting to share his excitement and perspective.
It had been devastating at first, being in the same room with Chris here in El Paso, realizing how much he had grown in the months apart. It still stabs Eddie in the heart sometimes, but it’s also been pretty incredible, relearning who his smart, funny, kind son is. Getting to talk about things that feel closer and closer to grownup conversations, to discover all over again just how much he loves his kid, how in awe he is of the young person he’s becoming.
It’s a warm and comforting train of thought, and the sound of his phone beginning to ring only enforces the feeling when he glances over and sees Buck’s name on the screen. He picks it up with a little flutter in his chest, speaking even before his thumb has finished swiping to answer.
“Hey,” he says, turning to lean his back against the kitchen counter, gaze wandering to Chris’s bowed head haloed in the lamplight. “I was just—-“
A sound that might have been his name, if not for the soul deep agony that ripped it apart, echos down the line and Eddie’s entire body goes cold.
“Buck?” He says, so sharply that Chris’s head jerks up at the sound. “What’s wrong?”
Buck, because even though he hasn’t managed to get a real word out yet Eddie would know him by the shape of his silence, sobs and every breath is shorter than the one before.
“Hey.” Eddie says, fingers gripping the phone like a vice. “Hey. I’m here. I’m right here Buck. Can you breathe for me? Can you try?” He’s trying not to guess what has happened, what horrific thing could possibly have shattered his best friend so completely. He pushes the terror creeping up the back of his throat down because Buck is not breathing, and Eddie has to fix that, even from 800 miles away.
“Buck.” He says again, pushing every bit of steady strength he has into the name, “I’ve got you ok. I’m here with you, you’re not alone. But you have to breathe Buck. Please baby, you have to breathe.” There’s the sound of a horrible gasping breath, then another. “That’s it. Just stay with me ok? Listen to my voice.”
There’s movement in the corner of his vision, Chris is hovering in the archway between the rooms, face so solemn it aches in Eddie’s own chest. Chris doesn’t venture into the kitchen though, his way of saying ‘don’t worry about me’ and Eddie loves him so much.
On the phone the sound of Buck’s breathing has evened out into quieter sobs, and now that the first fear spike of adrenaline is ebbing, the desperation in the sound sinks its claws into Eddie’s chest. No. He thinks, trying to steady his own racing heart. Please no.
“That’s it”, he says, wishing fervently that he could see Buck’s face. “You’re doing so well. I’m right here with you.”
“Eddie—“ Buck rasps out, voice ruined and shaking. “Oh god, Eddie.”
“I’m here.” He breathes, the hand not holding the phone is gripping the counter behind him so hard he can feel the fine bones creak. “What happened?”
Please. Please please please.
“He’s gone.” Buck sobs, wrecked all over again. “Oh god Eddie, he’s gone.”
No no no no no no.
“Who’s gone Buck? What’s going on? He doesn’t want to know, he doesn’t want to know, he doesn’t—“
“Bobby.” Buck gasps, choked and dying. “Bobby’s dead Eddie.”
He’s on the ground, legs folded under him. He’s not sure how he got here. His back stings from the scrape of the cabinet handles at his back. Chris is moving toward him in alarm and he holds a hand out. Maybe to ward his son away from the horrible truth twisting like a black hole inside his chest. Maybe reaching blindly to keep himself from falling into the abyss. Whichever he means to do, Chris is there, gripping his hand in both his own, easing himself down to the floor at his side.
“Eddie—“ Buck says, can get nothing else out, and something in Eddie’s chest ignites.
“I’m coming.” He says, “Do you hear me Buck—I’m getting on a plane and I’m coming to get you. Just hold on ok? I’m on my way.” There’s a soft rustle on the other side of the line and then it’s Ravi’s voice in his ear.
“Eddie?”
“Where is he?” It sounds too much like a demand but he can’t help it. “They’re moving us.” Ravi says, and Eddie can hear the grief like gravel in his voice too. “They have to move us back.”
It hits Eddie that he has no context for any of this. He has no details, no idea who else might be hurt or—it doesn’t matter. He can get all those answers in person. Right now the most important thing he can do is get home as quickly as possible.
“I’m coming.” He says again, and Christopher grips his hand hard. Their eyes meet and Eddie says ‘We’re coming.”
“Hurry.” Is all Ravi says, and the call drops.
The silent phone tumbles out of Eddie’s hand as one lone sob rips out of his chest before he can stop it. Chris throws himself forward, and for a moment they just cling to each other on the floor of this kitchen that still doesn’t quite feel like home. In a moment Eddie is going to have to explain the horrible truth to his son. In a moment he’s going to have to push down all his grief and guilt and fear and pack a bag, remember things like Chris’s toothbrush and his own wallet. In a moment he’s going to get up and start running as fast as he can.
Towards home.