“I saw you.” I stop in the hallway, rounding on him. “With that girl from your work. She was hanging all over you.”
“Yeah, she was,” Jack says, glancing at the nurses behind the desk, but continuing to talk. “We kissed; it was nice. I’m not going to lie to you. The affection and attention were pretty intoxicating if you want the ugly truth, and I almost let myself give into it. But I didn’t. I never did.”
Everything in me stops. My feet. My breath. My heart. I’m surrounded by glass doors and windows of the ICU, but I feel like I’ve run into a brick wall.
Jack stops too, perhaps assuming there’s something I want to say. There is, but I’m not sure where to start.
“I didn’t want the attention from her,” Jack says quietly. “I wanted it from you. I still do. I didn’t sleep with her or anyone else. I just wanted to be wanted. You just thought I did more, and I didn’t tell you different. I let you think what you wanted to think.”
This is not the first time Jack has said these words to me, but it is the first time they make me think of Oliver. We kissed, and it was nice. It was nice to be wanted. His affection and attention had been tempting, and I could have let myself give into it. But I didn’t. And even if Oliver had wanted to, I know that I wouldn’t have.
I finally believe the words Jack has told me over and over.
I move away from him and continue down the hall, turning corners that I know will lead me to Cassie. I stop outside the last door.
“Why?” I ask, but the heat is gone from my voice.
“Because it was easy,” he says quietly. “At least at the time. I was tired, and it was easy to let you be mad at me and me not have to do anything. I just couldn’t deal with it anymore.”
“Well, that’s stupid,” I say, pushing through the door.
“This whole thing is stupid,” Jack says, following me past the glass walls and through the curtain.
Then Cassie comes into view, and we both stop short. Mom, Lola, and Ray are all standing outside her door. Jack reaches out for my hand and I reach out for his.
25
It was a roller coaster the likes of which Cricket warned me about—except there was no enjoying the ride, only immense relief when it was done. We dipped into a drop of unknown hours waiting for Cassie’s body to do what it could while the doctors and medicines and, most importantly, God did the rest. We had moments where we thought it was over, only to corkscrew back into dangerous fevers and blood-pressure plummets. Then suddenly—she opened her eyes and spoke to me and the ride slowed. The cart stopped and the lap bar lifted. We got off the coaster and left the hospital, and she was fine.
She is fine.
Now, I’m in the grocery store with Mom on Thanksgiving Day buying an apple pie and a box of macaroni and cheese.
Lola is looking after Cassie where she’s resting before dinner at Mom’s house. Lola was the strongest of us all. Her hope made all the difference. Cassie has been out of the hospital for a week, and we’re still taking cautious steps, although she’s ready to get back into the pool.
She’s already upset that she missed two Teen Swim events. I met Zach, who turns out not to be the tall boy with six-pack abs. He’s sweet and concerned about Cassie, and although I’m not ready for my little girl to be interested in boys, Zach isn’t all bad. Life goes on like it should.
This Thanksgiving, I had hoped for something a little less traditional and more laid back, but Mom’s house is about to fill up with aunts and uncles and well-wishers on this first holiday without Dad. His absence looms large in the wake of Cassie’s accident and the coming of a holiday and the end of a year. Time will go on, and I’m not sure how to measure it.
“Do you think Cassie will be able to eat this?” Mom says, holding up the Kraft box.
“Mom, Cassie had a head injury, not a root canal,” I say, trying to be reassuring, but likely coming off as sarcastic.
Mom puts the macaroni in the cart. “Someone might want it,” she says and shrugs cheerfully.
My phone rings in my purse, and I thrash around to find it—afraid that it’s Cassie, afraid there’s something wrong.
“Hey, there,” Jack says across the phone line.
“Hi,” I say, finding myself happy to hear his voice, my heartbeat slowing at the sound of his words.
“Just checking in,” he says. “Happy Thanksgiving. How’s Cass today?”
Jack and I did well in the hospital, when it was about Cassie. As parents, we were in sync. As “us,” I don’t know. The thought of it hangs overhead like a book on a tall shelf—just out of reach. I want to grab it, but I need some help. After the fight in the hallway, we agreed that the hospital would be neutral ground. Cassie came first, and we would deal with the rest of it later.
It’s later.
“Are you sure you can’t come?” I say, re-inviting him to dinner. “Cassie would really love to see you.”
“I’ll just be in the way. It’s about Cassie and your dad this time. Maybe when things shake out I’ll come around again. If that’s ok?”
Suddenly, it’s like I can see the door closing on what could be, and I feel an overwhelming need to push it back open. I know that things don’t “shake out.” We make them fall into the place they fall into—whether by action or inaction, but still, it’s in our hands. I don’t want to wait for it all to fall into place. I’ve been in the place where things fall, and I’m not interested in staying there.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Home. Well, my apartment.”
“I’m coming over.
