We'll meet in the spring

2.

When Winston entered his apartment, he saw boxes filled to the brim stacked in the hallway. James wanted to draw attention, and apparently decided to get rid of old clothes, to give them to the homeless. His good action will make the headlines again, and James will be happy.

While walking into his luxurious home, Winston studied all the details. Ceiling moldings, baroque chandeliers, overpriced curtains, ugly antique furnitures, paintings, a marble fireplace. Everything here shouted "hey look at us, we are rich", but nothing made him feel at home. Nothing made him feel happy and safe. James appeared a few minutes later, he was coming out of the hallway leading to their large bedroom, with other boxes of clothing in his hands. He kissed Winston on the cheek, and Winston gave him his best forced smile, before shifting to allow him access to the entrance. He was about to turn away to go to the kitchen, when suddenly something caught his eye. Something sticking out of one of the boxes, the sleeve of an orange and red checkered shirt. When Winston realized what it was and what James intended to do with it, he felt his stomach tighten.

- James, give me that shirt.
- Excuse me?
- The shirt in the box. It's mine!
- Yes I know, I found it in your closet.
- But you never wear it, and excuse me my love, but it is hideous! A real lack of taste! The homeless will love it!
- James! This shirt belonged to one of my friends, who is now ... gone. Give it back to me!

James on hearing these words became livid. While apologizing again, he returned the shirt to Winston.

- Oh my god .... I'm sorry, I didn't know. I am really sorry. My condoleanc-
- What? No! He is not "gone" like that. He's just live somewhere else, that's all.
- Oh ! Thank God ! But honestly baby this shirt is really awful, we can't keep it here. And I'm sure your friend, no matter how badly dressed he is, would be happy to know that this thing was given to someone who needs it.
- James, shut up now!
- Ok, ok, I'm sorry. Keep your ugly shirt, I don't care.
- Never touch my stuff again without my permission! OK?! NEVER!
- Ok ok, calm down now. Jesus ... Wait, where are you going?
- To bed.
- But Winson, it's 9 p.m ...
- I know. But I'm tired. Bye!

Before James could add anything, Winston headed for the bedroom, and locked himself in it He carefully placed the shirt on a hanger, before storing it in his wardrobe with his own clothes. He was planning to take a shower when his phone started ringing.



* 9: 08 p.m : incoming call from Estela *

- ¡Hola señorita! ¿Cómo estás?

- Oh Winston! Your accent is a real atrocity! I'm fine and you ?

- I'm fine, I'm just a little tired. I was planning on taking a shower before you called me.

- I will not disturb you for long. I just wanted to hear from you, we haven't talked a lot lately...

- That's true ... How is Tyler? He still likes his job?

- Oh yes ! He is delighted, I think I have rarely seen him so happy !! He is constantly smiling.

- Lucky him.

- What do you mean ? You're not really ok, right? Is that James? Your work ?

- Let's just say, without going into details, that sometimes I would like to remember how to smile ...

- Oh Winston ... I'm so sorry ... if only I could do something...

- You do something ! You've been listening to me complain for years.

- ...

- I have to leave you, I'm really tired. We talk later okay? Say hello to Tyler on my behalf, will you?

- Of course. And don't forget that if you need to talk, we're here.

- I know. Thank you. Bye Stela.

- Bye Winst, take care of yourself.

* 09 : 17 p.m : End of call*

After hanging up, Winston massaged his temples. The day was dragging on, and he couldn't wait to finish it as soon as possible. As he had originally planned, he headed for the bathroom, and got rid of all his clothes at an impressive speed, and slipped in the shower. He felt sad, and angry, at least more than usual.Knowing that if in the end he had succeeded in leaving his job later, he would not have been able to save the shirt, it made him sick.

This piece of cloth is all he has left of him, and he will never get rid of it. Lord, it was pitiful to hang on like that, surely what his parents would tell him. But he couldn't help it.

He loves Monty, and he always will. When he was found guilty, he did everything to stay in touch with him. At the beginning it was going very well, he went to visits, he telephoned, he wrote. Everything was fine. Except that overnight, without explanation, his lover ignored him. Winson was no longer on his authorized visitor list, he received no further response to his letters, and his telephone calls went unanswered. It broke his heart. Even Estela did not understand her brother's attitude at the time.

Winston wanted to forget him, he really did, but then he found this shirt under his bed, the one Monty wore on the night of the game between Liberty and Hillcrest. The night he apologized, the night their short relationship really started. The night of Bryce's murder.

Monty had probably forgotten to put it back the next morning, and Winston, like a desperate lover, had kept it. He had hidden it in his closet, and had not touched it until he moved to the University. Since then, it had been carefully kept out of sight, until the other moron found it tonight.

Feeling a new headache coming, Winston swallowed an aspirin, and slipped into his bed. He glanced at his alarm clock, 9:54 p.m., damn even his grandmother was not going to bed so early. Resigned, he clapped his hands to turn off the room light, and he closed his eyes.