Merlot's phone rang. He snatched it from the dining room table.
"Merlot! How have you been? Have you been seeing your friend Alan?"
Merlot sighed. It was his mother.
"Mom, Alan's been acting cold toward me. He says he never told me to write The Sangria War—"
"Oh, I thought it was your therapist from rehab who suggested you start writing that book." She paused. "You always had such a vivid imagination, even when you were little…"
"Yeah…" Merlot stared at the floor. "Alan doesn't want to stay friends with me anymore. Maybe you could talk to him?"
"Merlot!" his mother exclaimed. "I live in Canada now!"
"I know, but you could email him-"
"Why don't you try making some new friends?" she asked. "You live in a big city."
"But I don't want new friends. I want Alan."
"Why don't you spend time with your friend of yours....Lemony, if you are lonely?"
"We are not friends!" Merlot snapped. "He harassed me by calling out of nowhere while I was napping after a long day of job hunting!"
"I thought you were working for Dr. Graydon-"
"He let me go," Merlot said flatly. "Low enrollment in his fall semester class."
"Oh… that's a shame. I don't think Lemony meant anything by it. You say you're lonely, but you push people away when they try to reach you."
"Mom!" Merlot's voice rose. "I don't like Lemony anymore. He slammed the door in my face after I visited him."
"Did you tell him you were coming over?" she asked with tension rising in her voice. "Or did you just show up? I remember you used to do that at my place all the time."
"Mom, I only came over because you'd just been discharged," he said. "You needed help—groceries, medication—"
"I did not need you there every day," she said quietly. "Even after I was better."
"Mom, you thought you were better," Merlot said, voice rising. "But you were only feeling better because the medication took the pain away."
"Merlot," she replied, sharper now, "I wouldn't have been discharged from the hospital if the doctors didn't think I could look after myself."
"Fine! Then I shouldn't have come over, even though your fridge was empty!"
"My fridge was always empty because you kept eating at my place instead of yours."
"I didn't have time to go home," Merlot shot back. "I was cooking for you—you were in bed half the time while I was stuck in the kitchen."
"You weren't stuck," she said coldly. "You chose to stay."
"Because you needed me," Merlot said, voice breaking at the edges.
"I didn't," she replied coolly.
The silence after that felt final.