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financial matter. I get the sense that he is not with you, and, as this matter concerns you too, I think we should meet. Your name is on a lot of the paperwork and it looks as if you signed some things three years ago—we have some contracts here with your signature. And we had your cell number on file."
    "Sorry, this is not a good time. As you can probably tell, I'm in a bit of a, umm, strange place. I don't have any information about our finances, so I don't think I can help you."
    "Mr. Grace, it's important. It relates to your future."
    "I can't really think about my future right now, because the present is giving me a really hard time." Nate's voice cracked slightly, the pain of this admission still too raw to be vocalized.
    "It involves your son's future," Jack replied.
    Nate felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown in his face. He'd spent what felt like a lifetime thinking about how Bailey would respond to Joshua's departure in the abstract, but he hadn't really thought about how it would affect him in the real world. He hadn't really thought about the future at all; it seemed too scary to contemplate, too foreign a terrain to explore.
    "Okay. Well, where can we meet? And who are you, exactly?" Nate paced the room, his bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. He touched his forehead and pulled his hair back—an annoying personal tic and a sure sign that something was going very wrong in his life.
    "I'm Jack Clark. As I said earlier. From Clark and Clark services, our office is next to the park on 22nd Street. It's a hideous glass monstrosity," Jack said with an apologetic edge.
    "I know it," Nate said, pulling on some jeans and searching under the bed for a pair of matching shoes.
    "I believe you've been here before." Jack said.
    "Yep, I've met Joshua there after a meeting. I remember coming in a signing some stuff a few years ago. God, I can't believe I'm such a fucking idiot. Can we meet soon? Because my son is going to a friend's house for a play date, and I want to get really drunk and sad soon, so I need to free up the day."
    "Yes, that will be fine, I have freed up my whole morning." Jack sounded solemn, and it made Nate even more uncomfortable.
    "Shit. That sounds serious. How serious is this? I mean, I think that you probably know more about what's going on than me. I can't find Joshua and he's left a note, and it's just too coincidental that he walks out the day that I get a call about his money. Which I don't really know anything about. I think that you're going to tell me something really bad and I'm going to have one thousand and one questions, and I'm not in a place to know which ones are important." Nate looked at himself in the mirror. The skin around his eyes was raw and red, puffed up from crying and rubbing. Somehow, seeing himself and the devastation that was written on his face made him feel even emptier. Like he was scooped out and held together with tape.
    "I think it's best that we wait until we can talk about it properly."
    "That bad, huh? Okay. I'll see you later. I'm going to drop my son off and then drive straight to your office, so I should be an hour at most." Nate ended the call with a sigh, his eyes leaking more tears that ran down his face. I've never been on my own. I've been with someone since I was sixteen. The same someone since I was sixteen. Nate looked at his reflection. "Okay, Nate—you can do this. You got dressed, and that's the first step. You can go and wake up your son and make him feel loved and like nothing in the world is wrong. And you can drive to that ugly glass building and talk about money. You can do this." He wasn't sure that any of it was true, that he was capable of doing anything other than lying in a cold, dark room, but just hearing the words made him feel better, more defined.
    Nate opened the door to Bailey's room and switched the light on. He was surprised to see that Bailey had his eyes wide open and was reading a picture book, his face bright