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3. Take care of my brothers.
4. Take vitamins.
5. Check my breasts.
6. When in doubt, look to the ocean.
7. Watch out for the unexpected. It’s the thing that might make you the happiest or the most miserable.”
I dissolve into the chair and puddle up. Someday it might hurt less, but I’m still a bit paralyzed by it all. I pick at the scab each year, never fully letting it heal. If it closes over, she’ll fade like an old scar. I’m not ready to let her dim, even though I know I should.
The sun warms my face, but the air’s chilly. I’ll wrap up in a blanket and set about finishing my champagne. The sky is gorgeous right now, and I head inside to find my phone. I also want to listen to some Chet Baker. He always makes me feel like I’m in an ingenue in a Hollywood film. I want to pretend my world is simple.
My phone keeps dinging in the kitchen. I’ve read but not responded to Alex’s sweet missives of good morning and good night, but now it keeps popping off. I grab it in the kitchen, and there are fifteen messages, all saying urgent, and several missed phone calls. I drop my glass.
“Tess. Tess! Thank God. I need you.” His voice is thready and urgent.
“I’m here. Tell me you’re ok?” My hand is on my racing heart.
“Tess. I’m out of my mind. I’m so sorry. I know you’re working. I didn’t want to disturb you, but something’s happened.”
“Are you ok? Please be ok. What’s going on?”
“My dad’s been in a bad car accident. He’s been rushed to the hospital. I’m jumping on a flight as soon as I can. I’m at LAX. Where are you?”
“I’m so sorry. What hospital?”
“Newton-Wellesley Hospital. I really need you.”
“Of course, I’ll be there when you arrive. I’ll leave right now. I’m at the shore.”
“Mom’s house in Florida?”
I look back to the deck and the waiting bottle. I’ll tell him later.
“No. Stone Harbor, New Jersey. I’ll head up to Newton. I have a plane ticket for you for tomorrow. I’ll text Nessa to change the ticket for Boston.”
“Why?”
“It was a surprise to make you ‘come to me.’ All of that can keep. Mikey cleared your schedule for the next three days.”
“What? Sweet, beautiful, dynamo, Tess. I’m so grateful.”
I text Nessa the ticket info, my airline miles, and credit card information. “I’ll upgrade you. Sleep, work, eat, drink, rest. And breathe.”
“My sugar mama.”
“That’s me. It’s the least I can do if I can’t hold you.”
“Tess.” There’s a catch in his voice. “I was just there.” His voice trails off again. “I’ll see you soon.”
“He’ll be fine. Just get here. I’ll text updates, so you’ll have them when you land.”
“My perfect pragmatic girl.”
This is where we’d say ‘I love you’ if we did that sort of thing, but we don’t. So, I say the thing we say instead.
“Someday.”
