June nods and I make my way to the kettle, turning it on while I grab a mint tea bag from the cupboard and a mug from the drying rack. “So what would you like me to work on today?” I ask over my shoulder, watching the water boil.
“Oh nothing. Just indulge in some tea with me today,” June requests, her voice soft and airy like she’s ready to sleep.
My eyebrows go up, realizing I am in Celeste’s house bonding with her Mom. I smile to myself, even if June wasn’t Celeste’s mother, she’s still a wonderful person to just be around. I get my tea brewing and carefully carry it over to the living room.
“So have you thought some more about this grand gesture of yours? Remember, it has to be swoon-worthy,” June jokes, setting aside her mug with a wince, her face looking a little green around the edges. I notice a few drops of sweat beading on her forehead.
“Yeah, um, June, are you feeling okay?” I ask warily. She closes her eyes and waves me off with a hand and a nod, so I continue. “Okay, well my idea was that her favorite?—”
June leans forward, an arm outstretched towards a glass of water. “Dominic, can you pass me…my…” Suddenly her eyes roll back and her body goes limp, slipping from her position on her chair and landing on the floor with a thud. Her eyes have fluttered closed and I jump from my seat. I stand there, my heart racing and adrenaline shooting through my veins immediately.
My knees slam down next to her and I push down my panic and brush her hair from her face. “June? June!” I call her name, but she’s still out cold, her skin clammy.
I pull my phone from my pocket as fast as I can and dial 9-1-1. I direct the operator to the house, stumbling over the address in my panic, but they reassure me an ambulance is nearby and on its way. I go to check June’s pulse on her wrist, nausea rolling through my stomach at the thought of not feeling anything, but the pulse is there. I look at her face and hold my hand in front of her nose and feel small puffs of air against my fingertips. I suck a breath of relief as her eyes slowly open.
“June? Can you hear me? Stay there. I don’t know if you hit your head and I don’t want to move you. Stay there until the paramedics get here, okay?” Her eyes flutter closed again, but she dips her chin so minutely I almost miss it. She’s aware of what I said and that brings me another small wave of relief.
It could have been hours but what I’m sure was only a handful of minutes later, a forceful knock on the door pulls my attention, and I move quickly to let the paramedics in as they surround June. I stumble my way through a brief recount of what happened before stepping back into the kitchen and out of their way.
“Son, are you riding in the ambulance with us or going separately?” A rough voice, one of the paramedics, asks me.
“Um, yes, yeah I’m coming, I just have to make a phone call.” I say slightly out of breath still.
“No worries, it’ll take a minute to get her in the rig, but be quick or take it en route,” the paramedic says sharply.
I pull up my phone, gripped in my hand so harshly I have to remind myself to loosen my fingers. My stomach flips over as I press the call button for Celeste’s number. The first time goes to voicemail where I leave the briefest message I can before redialing her number praying she picks up.
“H-Hello?” A small voice comes from the other side of the phone. My heart fucking sinks at hearing how sad she sounds, and here I am about to shatter her. I inhale a sharp breath and try not to let the lump in my throat get to me. I swallow it down.
“Celeste, your Mom, it’s your Mom. She’s in an ambulance going to the hospital. She just collapsed, I-I’m so sorry.”
TWENTY-ONE
Ristretto
Celeste
After my weekof crashing on Delaney’s couch, by Friday early afternoon I’m down two mimosas as Ariel starts singingPart of Your World.
“Okay nails are done, what colour do you want on your toes? Maybe pink for Pinky on your pinky? Get it?” Delaney coos at me while shoving three different shades of bubble gum pink nail polish in my face. A smile cracks my lips despite how gloomy I still feel inside.
“I want black.” I level her with a stare, daring her to say anything to change my mind.
“Fine, but I’m doing accent designs on your big toes.”
I sigh and wave off the suggestion. In all honesty Delaney could do whatever she wants. She’s a giver, and I know that it hurts her to see me so upset. We take turns pacifying each otherthrough nail polish, drinking, and Disney movies. She’s missing Ellora and I’m…well, we’re just there for each other.
The credits roll and Delaney pops out the old VHS tape she’s kept in stellar condition and delicately slots it into the rewinder. The nineties were truly a time.
“What would you like to watch next, Pinky?” Delaney asks as she pulls out the bin of the other hundred old school VHS tapes she’s kept in pristine condition since her childhood. She has reiterated several timestodaythat watching movies from their original VHS version releases some sort of visual magic that the kids these days just wouldn’t understand. To be honest, sometimes I don’t even understand what Delaney is referencing, but the nostalgic clunking of the player attached to the chunky TV brings me a comfort that is unmatched.
“Anything Mary-Kate and Ashley pre–Holiday In The Sun,”I reply, topping up my grapefruit mimosa. I have an inkling that because the word “pink” is in my last name, Delaney believes that I need to be surrounded by pink things while I wallow. It’s also the last of her alcohol in her bid to rid the apartment of anything that might trigger Ellie. I have to say the pink drink is definitely more uplifting than a lot of other colours, like all the muddy ones that reflect my insides. I pull the fuzzy pink blanket up to my chin with one hand, while my other hand tips the plastic champagne flute to my mouth as I take a large gulp.
I feel another one of those moments I’ve been having all week, when my heart hurts and I want to sob but don’t have any tears left. “Tell me more about you and Ellie. How exactly did you meet again?” I ask, trying to absorb some of Delaney’s glow as she lights up at Ellie’s name and the opportunity to talk about her.
“Well,” Delaney starts, pausing the VHS for full effect. “We were both attending a theatre retreat on the east coast. Collectively the attendees put on a production and then runthrough the various ways to improve through vocals, lighting, design, costume, et cetera. I was with the other divas getting a costume fitting and was paired with Ellie. I had seen her mulling about with the set design crew so I hadn’t realized she was a seamstress. She’d made that dress fit me like a glove.” Delaney hugs herself and closes her eyes, seemingly reminiscing on her and Ellie’s meet-cute moment.
When Delaney opens her eyes again, they’re softer. Warmer. “Ellie came up to me at the end of the retreat and said how impressive my vocals were and that I had something special in me. At first I thought she was just a fan of my range, but then she asked me on a date.” She shrugs, a sheepish smile tugging at her lips. “It was clear we were both very into each other and wanted it to continue. She said we could talk about moving closer to each other once she was done with her program in costume design over there, and she could look into a set design program over here. The rest is history. Well, current affairs anyway.”
