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* * *
The next thing I know, it’s morning. Before I even open my eyes it hits me. She’s gone.
I groan out loud. Is this my new life, this constant rediscovery of loss?
As I get out of bed, I feel a headache start. It gathers behind my eyes, pulses. I have cried in my sleep again. It is an old childhood habit that grief has reanimated. It reminds me that I am fragile.
It is a state of being that offends me, but I can’t seem to find the strength to combat it.
My bedroom feels foreign to me, too. I have hardly been here in the last five months. In June, when I found out about Kate’s cancer, I changed my life in an instant; I walked away from everything—my mega-successful TV talk show and my condominium—and dedicated my life to caring for my best friend.
My phone rings and I stumble toward it, grateful for any distraction. The caller ID says Ryan and my first thought is, Kate’s calling, and I feel a spike of joy. Then I remember.
I pick up, hearing the strain in my voice as I say, “Hello?”
“What happened to you last night?” Johnny says without even bothering to say hi.
“I couldn’t take it,” I say, slumping onto the floor by my bed. “I tried. ”
“Yeah. Big surprise. ”
“What does that mean?” I sit up. “The music? It’s what Kate wanted. ”
“Did you even talk to your goddaughter?”
“I tried,” I say, stung. “She only wanted to be with her friends. And I read the boys a story before bed. But…” My voice cracks. “I couldn’t stand it, Johnny. Being without her…”
“You were okay for the two years of your fight. ”
I draw in a sharp breath. He has never said anything like this before. In June, when Kate called and I came running to the hospital, Johnny welcomed me back into the family without a word. “She forgave me. And believe me, I was not okay. ”
“Yeah. ”
“Are you saying you didn’t forgive me?”
He sighs. “None of this matters anymore,” he says after a pause. “She loved you. That’s that. And we’re all hurting. Christ. How are we going to make it? Every time I look at the bed, or at her clothes in the closet…” He clears his throat. “We’re going to Kauai today. ”
“What?”
“We need time together now. You said so yourself. Our flight is at two, on Hawaiian. ”
“That’s not much time to get ready,” I say. An image blossoms in my mind—the five of us on the beach, healing together. “It’s perfect. Sunshine and—”
“Yeah. I gotta go. ”
He’s right. We can talk later. Now, I need to hurry.
* * *
I hang up and get moving. Packing for paradise takes no time at all, and in less than twenty minutes, I am packed and showered. I pull my damp hair into a stubby ponytail and dash on makeup as quickly as I can. Johnny hates it when I’m late. Tully-time, he calls it, and he’s not smiling when he says it.
In my walk-in closet, I find a teal and white Lilly Pulitzer dress and pair it with silver high-heeled sandals and a white straw hat.
As I slip into the jersey dress, I imagine this vacation. It is something I need—this time away with the only family I have. We will grieve together, share memories, and keep Kate’s spirit alive among us.
We need each other. God knows I need them.
I am ready at 11:20—only a few minutes later than optimal—and I call for a Town Car. I’m not that late. No one really needs two hours at the airport.
