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‘I have a favor to ask.’
‘Of course,’ she says quickly. ‘Anything.’
‘Every year Isaac and I go to Cape Cod…’
‘Yes, he’s mentioned it. During your visits.’
‘Right.’ I take a deep breath. ‘I want to go this year. I’ve booked the cottage for next week.’
‘Okay…’
‘I want you to come with us.’ A thunderclap of silence greets this announcement. ‘I know it’s a lot to ask, a whole week away from your family. But I think it would be good for Isaac…’ I pause, because I’m not ready to verbalize why. We can talk about that on the Cape.
‘Are you sure?’ Heather asks carefully. ‘Don’t you want to be alone with him…?’
‘Yes,’ I admit, ‘I do. But I can’t be. I’m not well enough. I need help, Heather. Your help.’
We are both silent; I can hear her breathing. I know I am asking for a huge favor, just as I know she will do it. Of course she will. One thing I know, one thing I’ve always known, is that Heather will do whatever she needs to for Isaac.
‘I’ll need to talk to Kevin,’ she says. ‘Just to check. But I think I can. I mean, of course I can. I will.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, and Heather draws a quick, hitched breath.
‘Thank you,’ she answers, her tone heartfelt.
We leave a week later, with Heather driving, me in the passenger seat covered in a blanket because I’ve been getting cold a lot recently and also I will need to sleep. But I’m going. Dr. Stein waved me off with a smile and a fistful of prescriptions for management of pain and the worst of my symptoms. I’m so drugged up it takes me twenty minutes to get through my pills. I’ve given Heather a schedule of all the doses, because sometimes I forget. My memory, along with everything else, is starting to slip.
Isaac was nonplussed but accepting about Heather coming with us; I know, over the next week, I’ll need to let them spend time together. Logistically it won’t be hard, because I sleep so much anyway, and yet emotionally it will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Letting go of
my son.
Heather seems tense and nervous as we drive away from my apartment building, the trunk loaded up with suitcases and sand buckets. A lot is weighing on this trip; the air feels heavy with the expectation to make every moment count. I crank up the music, just to lighten the mood.
‘This isn’t a dirge,’ I tell her, knowing Isaac won’t know what I mean. ‘We’re celebrating.’
Heather gives me a quick smile of acknowledgment. ‘Okay,’ she says, and starts to sing along. By the time we cross the RFK Bridge, we’re all singing at the top of our lungs to Bruno Mars’ ‘Uptown Funk’, even Isaac. And I’m smiling, laughing even; feeling freer than I have since I can ever remember.
Twenty-Eight
HEATHER
As the car eats up the miles my heart gets impossibly lighter. I came into this week desperate to get away from the tension at home and also knowing what a huge price I was paying.
Over the last two weeks things have spiraled down and down, and I have felt helpless to stop it. After Kev blindsided me with the pregnancy test news, I sat slumped on the bed, staring at him.
‘Is she…?’
‘She refused to tell me.’
I closed my eyes. ‘I can’t believe it.’
‘Just like we were.’ There was no humor or lightness in Kev’s voice; he sounded grim. ‘Except she’s two years younger.’
‘I didn’t even know she had a boyfriend.’ I felt faint, sick, all thoughts of Isaac vanished from my mind.
‘Maybe she doesn’t.’
‘Should I talk to her…?’
