Page 158 of These Secret Years

Nothing is bigger, I want to say, but I try to hear him. I try to do everything he wants or needs me to do. But there’s one thing—a thought that kept wanting to happen all day that I would never quite let happen—that breaks through while Sullivan is silent on the other end of the line. Nothing can bring him back.

And so what does anything matter?

Sleep? Might as well roll the dice on it.

“Fine,” I say gruffly before putting the phone on speaker and on the pillow beside me as I lie down. “Don’t hang up.”

He makes a short noise that sounds almost cheerful at the overly gruff demand. “I won’t.”

It figures that I left my phone on the pillow without charging it, so it serves me right to wake up to a dead phone and no Sullivan. No father, either.

It’s harder to find my grief this morning when there’s so much frustration and anger bubbling to the surface.

Plugging my phone in, I wait for it to get a scintilla of a charge, and without disconnecting it from the charger, I dial Sullivan and put him back on speaker. “Good morning,” he says.

“Are you at the airport?” I ask.

“I’m driving. I’m already on the road.”

My heart sinks. “D said you had a flight.”

“I wanted to have my car.”

“Why?”

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

I let out a short, harsh breath. “Fine, I guess. What time are you supposed to get here?”

“Seven-forty-five.”

“Fuck me,” I groan. “It’s a fourteen-hour drive, Sullivan.”

“I know. That’s why I got on the road early.”

“Where are you now?”

“Hard to say. Still in Missouri.”

“Fuck,” I bite out again. “You said you’d be here first thing.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, and I wilt. “What?” I ask.

“Look, I don’t see what good it’ll do to have me there today. I really think you should be spending this time with your family.”

“But the funeral⁠—”

“Isn’t for another two days. Deandre told me.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to stand two more days of this.” I mean so much by that, and he seems to feel the weight of all I haven’t said.

“Hopefully we can see each other tonight.”

“Not hopefully. I’m seeing you tonight. I have to.”

“Okay. I’m here if you need to talk.”

He’s using the word “here” very loosely. We hang up after a few more annoyed utterances from me, and I delay the inevitable waiting by taking a shower.