The Last Day of August

The coaxial cable had been hanging from Julia's ceiling for three months. Every time she walked past it, the frayed end swayed like a pendulum counting down something she couldn't name. Her friend Marcus had promised to fix it—Marcus, who promised everything and delivered nothing but charming excuses and cancelled plans.

Julia's cat, Lazarus, batted at the cable now, his orange paw flashing through the dusty afternoon light. She'd named him Lazarus because he'd survived being hit by a car two years ago, though sometimes she thought the wrong cat had come back from whatever threshold he'd crossed. He wasn't affectionate anymore. He watched her with flat, calculating eyes.

"You're still thinking about it," Marcus said from her doorway. He shouldn't have a key. She'd meant to ask for it back a dozen times. "The job in Chicago."

"I'm not going."

"Because of your mother? Because she's lonely? Jules, she has a bridge club. She has that horrible cat she dresses in sweaters."

"It's complicated."

"No, it's not." Marcus stepped into her apartment, tracking rain onto her rug. "You're thirty-five and you're still letting your parents' expectations dictate your life. That's the only bull that matters here."

The word hung in the air between them. She remembered the night he'd told her he loved her, palm against her cheek, whiskey on his breath. That was two years ago. He'd never mentioned it again, and neither had she. The memory was like a cable she kept pulling at, hoping something useful would emerge from the wall.

"Chicago offered me the position," she said quietly.

Marcus froze. "And you didn't tell me?"

"I'm telling you now."

"When do you leave?"

"Friday."

He stared at her, and for the first time in their friendship, she couldn't read him. "That's three days."

"I know."

"And you were just going to... what? Leave? Without saying goodbye?"

"I was going to say goodbye. Tonight."

Marcus laughed, but it wasn't happy. "You really would have, wouldn't you? Just packed up and vanished."

"You cancel on me every week, Marcus. I stopped thinking you'd care."

"I care." He stepped closer. "I've always cared."

"Then show me," she said, and the silence that followed was the most honest thing they'd ever shared.

Lazarus abandoned the cable and jumped to the windowsill, pressing his paw against the glass. Outside, the August rain fell steadily, washing over the city she was about to leave. Julia thought about Chicago, about the person she might become there. She thought about the cable still dangling from her ceiling, and how some things you fixed yourself, and some things you left behind.

"Friday," Marcus repeated. "That's soon."

"It is."

"Could I visit?"

"Yes," she said, and realized she meant it. "You could visit."

He nodded, and for a moment, the old affection returned to his eyes. "Then fix your damn cable before you go. You don't want to leave loose ends."

Julia smiled. "Some loose ends are worth keeping."

But she called the electrician anyway.