For Fox Sake

Chapter 16

Ryan

The ringing phone jerks me from a dead sleep at five o’clock in the morning.

I’ve only been asleep for a few hours, since I spent most of the night making sense of Jake’s confession and looking for the letters I had received from his dad, Ted. That was his name. I never knew his last name. They’re in a box somewhere in one of our closets.

The letters petered out years ago, and I only remember bits and pieces. I don’t recall him mentioning his other kids. He was funny though. And he was so happy that a piece of his daughter, Aria, was out in the world, living and loving and growing. He was like a kindly uncle or something. Connecting those memories with what Jake has told me is like this weird shift in reality and the cognitive dissonance is still ringing in my ears. He’s dead now. Not only did I spend last night grieving who I thought Jake was, I also had to grieve that realization too.

Groggy and confused, I fumble for my cell phone on the nightstand. Is it Ari? What if something is wrong?

“Hello?” The word is a croak.

“Ryan?”

I blink at the shadowed bedroom around me, clearing my vision and trying to comprehend the voice on the other end of the phone. “Elaine?”

“I’m so sorry honey. She’s gone.”

I rub my eyes.

The words don’t register. Gone? Who’s gone?

Then clarity strikes. It slices through me, a hot blade through my already thin skin.

“What?”

“She passed about a half hour ago, in her sleep. I’m sorry for calling so early, but I knew you would want to know right away.”

My hands are numb. Emotion floods through me, sorrow, denial, pain, and some relief followed up with a smack of guilt.

My skin is ice and fire and ice again.

We hang up. I think I say goodbye, I don’t know. Everything is blank. The shadowy room is lightening to gray as the sun rises and peeks through the cracks in the curtains.

I need to go to the hospital and figure out what the next steps are. I need to pick up Ari. I need to explain to her that her grandma is gone, and she’s not coming back.

All of life’s little dramas become insignificant in the starkness of losing someone you love forever.

I can barely fathom the endlessness of it. People die and they just aren’t there again, ever. It’s an unfillable hole.

I need to get up. I need to take care of... everything.

It’s like a pile of boulders falling on top of me, each one heavier than the last. It’s all so daunting. I thought I knew it was coming. It was inevitable. We planned for it. But dragging myself out of bed is suddenly an impossible task.

I have to get through this day, go to the hospital, sort out whatever needs sorted, then pick up Ari, and let her know what happened. I have to be strong for her.

Thoughts of my girl give me the strength to push myself out of bed. I go through the motions. Shower. Get dressed. Make coffee.

Everything takes forever. It’s like I’m moving through wet concrete.

I take one sip of coffee and chuck it in the sink. My stomach is a mess.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, I check the time. It’s after seven. Not too early for parents of young children. I text Michelle.

She replies quickly. The girls are still sleeping.

I breathe in and out then type a message letting her know that I have to stop by the hospital before I pick Ari up and I’ll be there on time. We already agreed I would come get her by lunch. I had hoped this morning would be spent in bed with... Jake.

My eyes shut. I can’t think of him right now.

I can’t think of anything. I stand there for I don’t even know how long with my eyes closed.

A brisk knock at the door makes me jump.

I steel my spine. What if it’s him? Part of me hopes for it, part of me dreads it.

The knocks come again, rapid fire. “Ryan?”

My shoulders droop. Bernie. Of course.

I open the door and she throws her arms around me. “I heard. I’m so sorry.”

I wish I could collapse against her. I wish I could rage, scream, cry at the unfairness of it all, but I can’t. Not yet. There is work to be done, so I let her hug me, and I pat her shoulder and I try not to take the comfort for too long. I can’t, not without completely losing it.

“I came to drive you to the hospital.”

“I can?—”

Her hand flips up, palm facing me. “Shut all the way up. You are not driving right now. You are not doing this alone.”

My eyes fill and I blink back the tears. “Thank you.”

When we’re both seated in her bright yellow Mini Cooper and halfway to the hospital she says, “Jake put in his notice this early morning. Did you know?”

“I figured.”

“This may not be the best time to ask, but what the hell happened?”

I give her a recap of the evening, all of it delivered in monotone, like it’s someone else speaking right now and I’m only listening, removed from the events. I describe the amazing conversation at dinner—most of it, anyway. I don’t reveal his personal details since his story isn’t mine to tell. Then running into Shane, every perfect thing he did and said... all leading to the aftermath. Everything Jake told me about why he’s really here, how his sister was Mia’s heart donor, and he had no idea except for the letters I had sent to his dad.

By the time I’ve filled her in on everything, we’ve been sitting in the parking lot of the hospital for ten minutes.

“That’s... I can’t believe it.”

“He literally got a job at the hospital, rented the house across the street from me, drove across the damn country to, what, make me fall for him and then act like every other asshole I’ve ever known but a thousand times worse?”

Bernie purses her lips. “Hmm.”

“What does that mean? You can’t seriously be on his side.”

“I’m not on his side.” She reaches over, putting a hand on my arm. “I’m always on your side. Always.”

I lift a hand. “But? Go ahead, I know you’re thinking it.”

“But... he has been through a lot, just like you. And I can see why he would wonder about the letters to his dad, and it’s not like he could have asked his dad, and it would have been really awkward to just show up and be like ‘hey, remember how you exchanged letters with a middle-aged man in high school? Also, why?’”

“He should have told me when we kissed the first time.”

“You’re right. He should have. He screwed up, big time. But maybe you should hear him out.”

“I know what he’ll say.”

He tried to tell me. He stopped us the first night we kissed because he wanted to tell me the truth. He stopped us last night when I invited him in.

When I put myself in his shoes, I can almost understand it. I understand why he wouldn’t immediately ask about the letters, and how not asking right away would put him in the position of making it harder and harder the longer it dragged on.

“But he came to my house. We had hours-long conversations about everything I’ve gone through. He had no problems being vulnerable about his life, about the death of his sister, about so many other things. He helped me with my sink. He hung out with Ari and he, and he?—”

“He made you think he was everything all your ex-boyfriends were not.”

“Yeah.”

“He did come clean though, eventually.”

It’s that eventually that stings.

“Do you think you can forgive him?”

“I don’t know. Am I weak for wanting to?”

“No. Never.”

“I’m not ready to think about him. I need to deal with,” I gesture to the hospital, “whatever needs to be done.”

She puts her hand over mine. “Hey. You aren’t alone in this, okay? We’ll deal with it together.”

I swallow back the tidal wave of emotions, shoving them down into a box, locking it up, and swallowing the key. There will be time for that later.

* * *

The days after Mom’s death are a blur.

All of her end-of-life planning was detailed out and paid for years ago, so that part is almost too easy.

Now, a week later, the day of the funeral has arrived faster than I thought possible. It’s a small, quick affair, with less than twenty people, local friends and acquaintances, plus a half dozen staff from the hospital. It’s held at the local cemetery. Mom is laid to rest next to Dad and Mia. It’s a beautiful day. Sunny, the sky dotted with fluffy clouds. The air is thick with sunshine and the smell of sweet, fresh-cut flowers, but my mind is only partially present.

I barely remember the past week, with a few stand-out moments.

Like when Elaine told me half of Mom’s cost of care had been miraculously eliminated because of some funding grant.

“It’s a thing people do. You know, a charity that pays for people’s medical care.”

“But... wouldn’t someone have told me? What’s the name of it?”

She brushed off my questions. “It’s a secret thing, you know.”

I don’t know, but I don’t have the energy to argue with her. Plus, it’s a huge relief.

The next memorable event is when I relay the news of Grandma’s passing to Ari. I waited until we got home from her friends, told her we needed to talk, sat with her on the couch, and just laid it out there. With kids, it’s best to stick to the facts and be clear.

“Grandma died. As you know, she’s been sick for a long time. We won’t be able to talk to her or see her anymore. But we have so many good memories, and we can always talk about her, whenever you want. She loved you very much.”

She frowned. “I’ll never see her, ever again?”

“No.” And isn’t that the rub? “She’s gone, sweetie.”

She sighed. “She’s with Mommy now. I bet Mommy is happy she gets to see her again.”

My heart twisted. “I bet you’re right.”

The rattle of the crank as Mom’s coffin is lowered into the earth jerks me back to the present.

After the brief service is over, most of the attendees follow us home, bringing casseroles and plants and flowers, all the things that are supposed to somehow help you deal with profound loss, along with platitudes like I’m so sorry for your loss and If there is any way we can help. How can anything help? No one can stop death itself.

But then I think fuck and remember Jake, and the darkness ebbs, a little.

He’s leaving soon. His rental contract is up in two days.

He left a letter on my porch yesterday along with a brochure for Camp Aria.

He didn’t tell me the camp was named after his sister. In fact, now that I think of it, he never said her name, not until the end. He really went through a lot of trouble to avoid saying her name—but I get it. I’ve gone through periods, especially right after her death, when I struggled to say Mia’s name.

I’ve read the note so many times, I’ve nearly memorized the contents.

I’m sorry. For my mistakes, and for the loss of your mom. I know an apology doesn’t make anything better, and it doesn’t take back what I did, but I wanted to give it to you anyway. I won’t bother you. But if you want to talk or punch me in the face, you know where to find me.

If you need to escape Dull for a weekend, or a week, there’s a bungalow in Whitby with your name on it. Just say the word.

Ari has asked about Jake three times. Each time, I deflect and change the subject or tell her I don’t know. I did tell her that he won’t be living here much longer. She stopped asking. The thought of him leaving, of moving back across the country, is both a relief and a regret. It’s the regret that kills me. I have to talk to him before he leaves, if only for closure.

As for his offer, getting away from Dull and going literally anywhere would be absolute heaven. But I couldn’t possibly go to Jake’s family home with him. It would be so strange, wouldn’t it? Visiting where Aria and Ted lived? Being around Jake and the rest of his siblings? Also I haven’t forgiven him yet.

Yet.

Does that mean I want to?

I still like him. I hate that I still like him.

He may have had reasons for his deception, he may have attempted to be noble, but he took my DNA without my knowledge, for crying out loud.

How can I possibly move past that? Every choice I make affects Ari too.

By the time everyone leaves, and Ari and I are alone, I’m dead on my feet. I put on Bluey and sit next to her on the couch, not bothering to clean up the plates and cups scattered around the house.

It can all wait.

After fifteen minutes of staring at the TV with no real awareness of anything, except for Ari’s warmth burrowed into my side, she turns to me.

“Momma?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Is real mommy in heaven because of me?”

I freeze, muscles tensing, breath stuttering to a halt in my chest. “Why would you think that, baby?”

“That lady with the weird hat that was here earlier said if Mommy hadn’t had a baby, she wouldn’t have died. Aren’t I her only baby?”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes.

It’s too soon for this conversation. She’s six years old. I thought I would have more time.

“First of all, your mommy wanted you more than anything. She did not die from having a baby. She died because she was born with a bad heart. That wasn’t anyone’s fault. Having you was her happiest moment. She faced the end with nothing but peace knowing that you would live on when she couldn’t. You are made of everything that was best about her. You did not take her from this world. You are how she remains in it.”

She frowns at me, a little divot between her brows, and says nothing.

I swallow. Does this even make sense to a six-year-old? “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

She nods slowly. “I think so.” She’s quiet for a few seconds. “You might have to tell me again later.”

“Okay, baby.” I rub her shoulder and kiss the top of her head. Maybe when you’re twenty-five.

She snuggles deeper into my side. “When is Jake coming over to finish watching our show?”

My chest aches. He was streaming it from his phone. I could probably find it myself, but Ari would never allow us to watch it without him. “I don’t know, sweetie.”

“Can you ask him?”

“He might be busy. He’s leaving soon.”

“Please?”

I should talk to him before he leaves. I’ll regret it if I don’t. It’s not fair to Ari to keep him at arm’s length when she might never see him again. She deserves to be able to say goodbye. Eventually, I will have to explain to her about how Jake’s twin is her namesake. She knows a little about how her name is very special, how it came from a girl, an angel, who saved her mom’s life.

“I can go check, but you need to stay here, okay?”

It’s a testament to how tired she is that she doesn’t argue and instead lies down on the couch without a word of protest.

“I’ll be right back.”

I walk across the street, my mind turning over the past, the present, the unknown future. My stomach spins with nerves. Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this. Maybe I should turn around, go back inside, tell Ari he’s not home or he’s sleeping or something.

But I don’t.

I reach his door and after only a few seconds of hesitation, I knock.

Ten heartbeats later, the door swings open.

“Hey.”

Damn he looks good. He’s wearing jeans slung low on his narrow hips and the same dark blue T-shirt he wore when I came over to fix the stove, and he’s never looked more enticing.

Even though his eyes are tired, his face tight with strain, something in me relaxes at the sight of him. It’s like the chaos of the past week stills, and a puzzle piece slots into place. At the same time, the concrete walls I’ve been fortifying around my heart shift, a crack stretching over the surface.

“Hi,” I manage to get out.

“Do you want to come in?”

“I can’t. I left Ari watching TV and I...” I don’t have to explain.

He crosses the threshold and a whiff of his scent—just simple soap and aftershave—reaches into my midsection and tugs.

I step back and cross my arms over my chest.

He doesn’t say anything. He waits, devouring me with those deep brown eyes, his gaze a caress against my skin.

To my horror, my eyes burn and my face heats, the crack in the dam around my emotions fracturing.

A sob bursts out of me. My hand claps over my mouth.

Then his arms are around me, solid and warm, and all the barricades I’ve erected and strengthened over the past week dissolve in the face of his comfort.