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She knew what her therapist would say. At least about today’s incident. Much like the session where Tabitha had discussed what went down the day the chaplain got hurt in Afghanistan, and her therapist had asked, “Do you really think you caused the chaplain to get hurt in the explosion, Tabitha? Just because you’d told him that morning that he’d get what was coming to him someday? Do you really think you have that much power?” Tabitha’s therapist would apply that same logic to the sick runner. Do you really think you have that much power, Tabitha? Whatever befalls her, do you really think you made that happen?
No, she didn’t. In fact, Tabitha felt powerless. She knew she didn’t cause that woman’s hyponatremia today, or any result of it, just like her words to the chaplain in Afghanistan hadn’t caused their convoy to hit an IED. But missing the signs of a serious problem, when coupled with all the other issues she’d been having lately, was a lot to swallow. It certainly made her want to quit the process altogether—the process of everything she was bumbling through—no matter what Buddha had to say about it.
But then she’d just be a quitter.
Quitters weren’t badasses.
The only thing that made her feel a little better was the memory of Hobbs, coming into Triple M with his brother a few days ago. He, too, had listened to her talk without giving his opinions. He’d inadvertently told her a little bit about himself, about the past he tried to keep hidden behind his clown act, even though he hadn’t offered any details. Meeting Victor had only made Tabitha double down on that suspicion. Hobbs’s brother hid away just as much as Hobbs did but in a different way, using silence instead of joy, keeping everyone out instead of inviting everyone in. Both had the same effect—the real Hobbs and the real Victor never got seen: one was walled off and the other hidden in plain sight.
Hobbs had made Tabitha feel less alone in the world that day.
She wished he hadn’t gone to Omaha. She’d have liked to go to his class tomorrow at the gym, let his happy-go-lucky mood fill her up and ease her worries, even if that was selfish of her. But Tabitha wouldn’t see Hobbs for a week, at least. She wouldn’t see Clementine, either. That left her with Auntie El, who would have no sympathy for Tabitha missing the signs of illness, nor much for the “crazy person” who’d decided to run twenty-six point two miles and made herself sick. Auntie El would certainly have no sympathy for Tabitha’s feelings about quitting everything she was sucking at. And that was if Auntie El was even awake. Her unusual new habit of napping had slowly started to replace the sight of Auntie El in the kitchen or garden.
Tabitha pulled into her spot near the house and killed the engine. She sat there a couple of minutes, gathering herself before she went inside. Maybe she’d take a nap and let her brain work on her problems while her body checked out for a while.
Just after she’d taken off her seat belt, a text message lit up her phone, resting in the console. Her phone had been on silent since this morning and she never played with it while she drove. No name appeared, just a number Tabitha didn’t recognize. There was also a missed phone call from the same number. She clicked open the message.
Hi, Tabitha. It’s Thaddeus. Your auntie gave me your number. It was great seeing you last weekend. I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee sometime this week? No pressure. I’m pretty busy at work but could squeeze in an hour somewhere, if you let me know when. Take care!
Coffee? Why the heck would Thaddeus want to have coffee, or anything else, with her? She hadn’t exactly made the best impression last Sunday, stuffing her face full of food and unfolding her anxiety for all to see. Just the thought of meeting Thaddeus in some café and having to pretend she was as slick and accomplished as he was over cups of cappuccino with designer hearts in the foam made her want to scream.
Tabitha and Trinity went inside and found Auntie El standing over the kitchen sink, eyes closed, breathing in and out, slow and deep. She was still wearing her housecoat and slippers, despite the fact that it was the afternoon.
“You okay, Auntie?” Tabitha rested her hand on Auntie El’s shoulder.
She flinched. Her eyes flew open. “I didn’t hear you come in.” Auntie El’s forehead and upper lip were sweaty, like she’d been working out. “I was getting ready to put out the fall decorations.” She pointed to the dining table in the next room, where a couple of autumn wreaths, floral arrangement pieces and vases lay.
“I’ll take care of that,” Tabitha said. “You don’t look well. Maybe you should go to the doctor and get a physical. You’ve been sleeping a lot lately. And not eating well.”
Auntie El cleared her throat and blinked rapidly. “I’m fine. I used to be a nurse, didn’t I? I would know.” Auntie El brushed past her and collected a wreath from the table. It was made up of red, yellow and orange fake flowers inside a wicker circle. “I just haven’t been sleeping well at night, so then I get tired during the day. And it couldn’t hurt if I lost a few pounds.” She rubbed her thick middle. “Are you home early?” Auntie El glanced at the clock over the dining room table.
“No,” Tabitha lied. “We finished.”
Auntie El nodded. “I’m putting these up, then I’ll be making some arrangements for the vases.” She nodded at the pile on the table.
“If you’re sure you’re okay.” Tabitha hesitated, waiting. Auntie El had always been strong as an ox. Even when she got sick, it never lasted. After some Vicks VapoRub and a couple of Tylenol she was always back on her feet within a couple of days.
“I’m fine.” Auntie El waved her away. “You go shower. You look filthy.”
Tabitha watched her walk to the front door, to hang the wreath. Auntie El’s steps were slow and calculated. Tabitha closed her eyes. She could sense Auntie El’s discomfort, with even the smallest movements. Something was definitely off. But if Auntie El wasn’t going to share, there was nothing Tabitha could do to drag it out of her. She sighed and clicked open a new text message, but not to reply to Thaddeus.
Instead, she wrote to Clementine. If Tabitha wanted to be strong, she needed to do something to salvage this day.
Hey. Still need that massage you never got?
