“No, uh... no. I’m a friend. Is she there?”
“What’s your name, hon?”
“Cade. Cade Adler.”
“Well Cade, she’s not on shift right now. I can leave her a message to call you?”
“No, that’s okay. I haven’t talked to her in a while, and I think it’d be better to speak to each other. I’ll—I’ll try back. Thank you, Loretta.”
“Of course, honey. Have a good day.”
I didn’t want to seem desperate (even though I was), so I spaced my calls out, trying the hospital three more times in the next two weeks. Each time, I spoke to Loretta, whose voice at this point had become my last beacon of hope in getting to hear Brooke’s voice again. I enjoyed the husky quality of Loretta’s voice, and how she called me “hon” like I was her long-lost grandchild.
The third time I called, she asked to put me on hold.
As I listened to the muzak through the line, I paced my small apartment. My shift was starting in an hour. My heart was fluttering with anticipation at getting to hear Brooke’s voice through the line for even a minute before I left for work. I could at least get in an apology for my behavior at the reunion.
The muzak stopped and Loretta’s voice came back over the line. “Cade, love?”
“I’m here, Loretta.”
“She’s not on shift tonight, but her roommate is. I talked to her a bit, and she recognizes your name. Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yes—yes. Thanks so much, Loretta. I really owe you one. You’ve been a real lifesaver.” I made a mental note to send some flowers to Loretta’s desk. She might’ve just given me a chance to get my best friend back.
All I’d doneduring my 48-hour shift was think about Brooke. During calls out I’d be focused on the job, getting in and out and getting everyone to safety. But laying in my bunk, I planned a script for what I’d say and how I’d win her over. I decided I didn’t want our call to be rushed or disrupted, so I’d wait til I was back home to use the number I’d gotten from Whitney.
Or maybe I was just chickenshit.
Finally, on Tuesday afternoon, I paced my apartment, coaching myself. My dog looked up at me curiously as I wore a path in the carpeted floor.
“I can do this, right, Echo? Talk to Brooke?”
My pup raised his ears and cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know either. Well... here goes nothing. Wish me luck, buddy.”
I dialed the number. My heartbeat ricocheted in my chest with eachbrrrrrrrrringg.
Please pick up, I silently implored. Then, a clicking noise of the call connecting.
“Hello?” The voice sounded different through the phone.
“Brooke? It’s Cade.”
8
BROOKE
Fun Fact #33: As of 2010, 78% of Vermonters have a landline in their home.
Our landline rang. Whit and I paused our movie, and our eyes connected. How many people even had that number? Not many. We’d paid to have our number removed from those spam-calling services.
Whit looked at the Caller ID. “Wireless number,” she confirmed.
“Answer?” I shrugged.
Whit picked up the receiver. “Hello?” Her eyes met mine. “This is her roommate, Whitney. Sure... she’s right here.” She handed the phone to me. “It’s for you.”
