I tap my cigarette on the windowsill, I watch as the ashes slowly fall to the ground below. I think about all the times I’ve sat at this window wishing I could hold you once more, kiss you, make love to you. But I know this can never be, because you’re gone.

Michael told me to be patient you would call, or write, something to tell me you were alive. That was the least you owed me. A sign anything, even if it was to tell me you never wanted to see me again, at least then I would know you were okay. But nothing.

It’s been a year now since you left for New York. The longest year of my life. I’m surprised I’m even standing here to tell you the truth. I can’t count how many times I drank myself to sleep hoping never to wake up.

The gang says I’m doing “okay”. Okay? I’m barely hanging on, even after all this time. If that’s what okay means, then yes I’m okay. The gang, what are they even up to? Haven’t talked to anyone except Mikey for the past eleven moths. They all tried to be there for me of course. But eventually they all gave up, even Debbie. 

It broke my heart the day she gave up. I can remember it like it was yesterday. Me laying there in a crumpled mess while she stood at the end of my bed…

“Brian please, I’m begging you. Do it for me. Hell, do it for yourself. Whether you want to admit it or not, you’re my son. My baby even, I can’t let my baby live like this. Please.”

I didn’t move, didn’t even show any signs of life. Finally I looked up and saw her face streaked with tears, her eye makeup streaming down her face. I just buried my face in my pillow and closed my eyes; maybe if I concentrated hard enough I would wake up from this nightmare. And you’d be lying next to me, though I knew it was pointless.

A few minutes later I felt her kiss the top of my head, and then I heard the door slide open and shut with a thud. And that was the last time I saw her. 

Even Michael my best friend, hell my brother in fact gave up on me. Sure he still stops by every week or so to make sure have things in the house other than booze. We don’t even talk anymore, he just comes in checks the fridge, makes a list and leaves. 

I tried to say something once as I sat at the counter watching him put the milk the away. I felt the words form in my brain; I tried to send a signal from my brain to my mouth but nothing. When he walked over to me I wanted to yell the words, but nothing. He hugged me then kissed me on the forehead. I could see the tears building in his eyes as he looked at me. Then he was gone.

“I’m sorry Mikey” I whispered to the empty kitchen.

I tried to find you after you left. Hell Michael and I even went to New York to look for you. We asked every gallery if they’d even heard anything about a Justin Taylor. But everyone said the same thing; he’d contacted them almost a year ago from Pittsburgh. But he just never followed up on the plans. 

I left every gallery disappointed. What the fuck did I expect? Them to tell me that you just went out for lunch and you should be back in an hour.

When Michael woke me up to take me back to the Pitts I told him to leave me here. 

“He’s here Michael! I can’t just leave him.”

“Brian...” he said with a sigh. “Just face it, he’s gone. Justin’s gone and he’s never coming back.”

“YES HE IS!” I yelled in his face.

I remember him just sitting there. Not trying to stop me. Usually he would yell back, tell me to calm the fuck down. But not this time. He just sat there and took it, let me yell and throw things like a five year old.

I don’t remember the drive home to Pittsburgh, all I remember was Michael shaking me awake.

“Come on Brian you’re home.”

“No, it’s not home anymore” I said climbing out of the car. “It’s just rooms now.”

I spent the next week at home, calling your cell phone over and over again. But I always got your voicemail.

“You’ve reached Justin Taylor’s phone, I cannot take your call right now. Leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks.”

I never left a message. Well I did once. The last time I ever called you.

“Justin, I don’t know what I did. But whatever it is, I’m sorry. If you ever get this just call me. Please, I’m begging you. I’m a fucking mess without you. At least just tell me you’re okay, and I’ll leave you alone forever. Just please, call me. I love you, always have always will.”

You never called back. I never expected you really to.

The next week I started going to work again. I tried to lose myself in work. Staying up late working on campaigns and getting up early to be the first one at the office. Thanks to my work Kennetic is now the number one ad agency in Pittsburgh, number two in Pennsylvania. But success is worth nothing to me, I would give it all up for more time with you.

 I look at the clock behind me, 2:38 in the morning. Jesus how long had I been standing here? I got up and stretched my stiff limbs as I walked to the kitchen for a drink. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and sit down at the counter. Somewhere in the distance my cell phone is ringing. It’s just work, they’re the only people who ever call me anymore. Whatever it is they can wait until tomorrow. 

I’m lying in bed and I feel myself start to doze off when I hear my cell phone again.

“Damn it” I say to myself and roll over.

A few minutes later it rings again.

“What the fuck?” I say to the empty loft and get up.

“Hello?” I answer in a harsh tone, angry at whoever is calling me at three in the morning.

There’s no sound except for someone breathing on the other end then the line goes dead.

I check my recent calls list and my heart stops the screen lights up electric blue and reads:

<b>Last Incoming Call: Justin</b>