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“No stamps? Then why– ”
“She planned to travel last year, but shit went down and it was cancelled.”
“Do you know where she’d planned to go?”
“Of course. I know exactly where she’d planned to go. Europe. Ireland. Scotland. London. I can even email you the actual itinerary.”
“She already had an itinerary? Jesus, T. She already paid for it? She never mentioned–” I bite off the unfairness and squeeze my phone. Of course she didn’t. She’d never complain. This wasn’t a hypothetical fantasy vacation for her. It was already organized and paid for, but she’d never bring it up, because that would make Jack feel bad. He’s not a burden to her, and she’ll never let him think as much.
Finally, this is something I can do to make the last year and a half easier on her.
My girl’s going to Europe.
“Please email me, Tink. You’re the best.”
“I thought I was a pain in the ass?”
I laugh and release my death grip on the phone. “Cutest pain in the ass I know. I think we’ll keep you.”
“Stop. You’re embarrassing me.”
I laugh. “Keep up the good work, and I’ll make sure you get an invite to the wedding.”
She grunts her displeasure. It sure sucks when someone finally feeds the smartass some of her own back. “There is no wedding without me, B. You should watch yourself. I’m small, but I’m feisty. I’ll punch you in the dick before you even realize I’m there. Then how will you impregnate my girl and overwhelm her with pretty little ninja babies?”
Great, now I’m imagining mini ninjas sack whacking me. “I’m sorry, T. I take it back. Please be at the wedding. We need you.”
She laughs in victory. “I’ll send the email sometime tonight.”
“Thank you. Listen, I have another question. It’s a little more sensitive…”
“Ask your doctor, B. I don’t know how to get rid of rashes. That’s not my life anymore.”
“I– you–” I shake my head to rid the images of disgusting rashes from my mind. “Can you get serious? Fuck, T.”
She snorts. “Fine, what’s your question?”
“I don’t know what to do about… Well, her dad isn’t here to escort her down the aisle. It’s hurting her, but she won’t let me help. She’s internalizing.”
Finally, she turns serious. “Oh… that.” She exhales warily. “I don’t know, Bobby. She hasn’t told me what she’s thinking. Like you said, she’s internalizing.”
“Even from you? I thought girls told each other everything.”
“Mostly everything, but not when she knows it’ll make me worry. She won’t tell me stuff that she thinks will hurt me.”
“You couldn’t make a guess? Of all the men in the world, who would she want to walk with her?”
“You mean other than Scott Eastwood?”
“Who the fuck is that?”
She snorts. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t think he’s available. He stopped returning our calls ages ago.”
“Does she want Jack, or George… or Jimmy, even? They get along. He’d walk her in a heartbeat.”
“No, I truly don’t know.” She sighs. “Whatever she wants, whoever she wants, she’ll make it happen. She’s the most capable person on this planet. She doesn’t let shit drag her down, so I doubt she’s wallowing over this. Her dad’s gone, so she’ll make other arrangements. It’s just who she is. Trust in the process, B.”
I don’t want to trust the process. I want to fix it for her. “So your answer is to leave it alone? Let her grieve all over again, on her own.”
