15. Alice
Chapter fifteen
Alice
B reakfast. On a normal Monday morning, Alice would sit at the island as Henry slid a plate of deliciousness in front of her. Or a bowl; she wasn’t picky. Whatever he offered, she ate. They’d talk quietly, enveloped in the low-toned love bubble that people formed when they couldn’t help themselves. About the night before, about the day ahead, about how Henry would wake Jay today or what special instructions he would give for Jay’s shower.
On this Monday morning, she stared into the freezer, ignoring the chill on her face. Henry precooked breakfast things; she’d seen him do it. Somewhere, a stash existed. The cold intensified as the motor protested her extended survey.
Growling, she hefted a collection of containers over to the counter and shoved the freezer door shut. “Fine. Be that way. I can replace you with outside, you know. It’s that time of year. Don’t test me.”
The freezer glared with judgy indifference. Or the little lights just glowed to show the ice and water were available through the door. She pointed two fingers at her eyes and jabbed them toward the fridge. “Uh-huh. Watching you.”
The containers yielded breakfast burritos and oatmeal—the big flaky kind, not the mushy premixed packets with flavor powders. She kept out two servings of oatmeal and three burritos, which seemed… Right? Overkill? The end of her breakfast usually overlapped the start of Jay’s long enough for her to thoroughly kiss him goodbye, not measure the contents of his plate. The fridge produced the last of a carton of blueberries to top the oatmeal, but if they wanted more fresh fruit, someone would need to shop today. Maple syrup, because the oatmeal could not go unsweetened, especially when Henry bought the good stuff—the real stuff—to indulge her and Jay.
The shower was running upstairs. She’d given Jay a wakeup nuzzle after dressing—shit, and she hadn’t laid out any clothes for him. Henry often did, and Jay had confided more than once how much he loved that possessive attention. She had no fucking clue how Henry chose outfits, nor what would be right for the weather, nor which things Jay preferred. He was her husband, and she couldn’t even name his favorite shirt. She knew next to nothing about the typical pace of his morning with Henry once she left for work. Presumably they had their own love-bubble chitchat.
Bracing her hands against the counter, she blew out a breath. “Not really the time to call and ask him about reheating breakfast burritos and choosing the right outerwear layers.”
She’d spoken all of, what, fifteen words with Henry last night? Twenty? He hadn’t called again, and she couldn’t fault him for it. Hospitals had their own rhythms, and sometimes three hours went by while you’d been sitting in a daze. Hopefully he’d been able to see his mom; hopefully she was fine and not comatose or dying or about to be addicted to pain pills for the rest of her life.
“Enough.” She clenched her teeth and hissed herself into silence, dumping the burritos on a plate. They’d be fine in the microwave. Maybe not crispy like Henry made them, but edible.
Her phone erupted in a cheery song.
Diving across the island, she almost knocked the damn thing to the floor with her fingertips before getting her hand around it.
“Henry?” She huffed like she’d just sprinted down the track. Oh, fuck, and it was video, and he currently had a view of the ceiling and half her hand. “Sorry, making breakfast.” She dragged the phone toward her and reoriented it so he’d actually be looking at her face. “Jay’s in the shower. I’ll get—”
She stuffed the rest of the words back down her throat. Could’ve been hospital lighting, but Henry looked ragged—eyes dull, shadows beneath, face a nonexpression. She could’ve happily gone her whole life without seeing him make that face. Sliding to the floor, sitting with her back against the cabinets, she cupped the phone in both hands. “Tell me how it’s going, sweetheart. What do you need?”
A soft smile crept over him, and he closed his eyes before blinking at her twice. “I thought Jay was your sweetheart.”
She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. He might be avoiding an answer because he was tired—or because the news was bad. “I wish I could wrap my arms around you and make everything okay.”
He nodded, faintly, and the field of brown stubble across his jawline caught the light. “I know, dearest. I do apologize for rousing troubling memories.”
She waved her hand across the screen. As if he should apologize for anything right now. He didn’t need that thinking cluttering up his focus. “I know it’s tough for you not to take care of everyone, but this is the part of the marriage deal where we support you instead of the other way around.” Searching the screen for confirmation, she found it—his shirt collar matched the narrow maroon on white checks he’d been wearing yesterday. No shave, no new shirt. “Did you get any sleep?”
“A bit.” He rubbed the side of his hand across his forehead. “I nodded off at Mother’s bedside eventually, and the staff kindly chose not to eject me until I woke. She’s stable but exhausted; we haven’t been able to speak yet. I have…”
He glanced down, Henry still Henry—the phone he was staring into would give him the time with a quick tap, but he checked his grandfather’s watch on his wrist. Video was a great upgrade for phone calls, but the tech guys needed to figure out teleportation so she could reach out and touch him for real.
“Not quite two hours before visitation begins and they’ll allow me to return.” He lifted the corner of his shirt collar and teasingly sniffed it. “I suppose I ought to run home for a shower and a change of clothes.”
“Take the opportunity when you have it.” She answered on autopilot, the words not hers—something a nurse had said to Mom in the early days, before Alice and Ollie had stopped coming to wave through the ICU room window. Had Henry’s mom fallen? If she’d broken a hip, there could be surgery, rehab— “Have they told you anything about benchmarks for leaving the hospital? Don’t let them push her out the door before she’s ready.”
He ran her through the medical maze, what they’d done so far, what they might learn today, where they could go from there. Heart attacks, mild or not, weren’t something to fuck around with. “—or four days, perhaps. Thank you for suggesting I bring an overnight bag. And for the impromptu dinner, as I was going to say last night before necessity demanded we cut short our conversation.”
“I’m glad it helped.” Movement flickered past the edge of the phone.
Jay, a towel swagged around his hips, walked toward her, mouthing, Is that Henry? What did he say?
“Jay’s just out of the shower”—she beckoned him closer—“so I’ll let you two catch up.”
She extended her arm up to hand Jay the phone, but he clasped her forearm and pulled her to her feet first. “Hey,” he whispered, kissing her cheek. “You good?”
Nodding, she squeezed the back of his neck. Her grip wouldn’t be the same as Henry’s, but hopefully the possessive hold would somehow make up for the soggy breakfast and lack of clothing choices. A million infinitesimal details kept their household running, and only Henry knew them all.
Jay raised the phone. “Henry, hey, we miss you.” He meandered past her, pacing through the kitchen while he talked. “How’s she doing? How are you doing?”
“Stable for now; Alice will fill you in on the particulars. I myself am overdue for a shower. I see you’ve just had yours—”
Tilting the phone, Jay sent a slow shot rolling from his bare feet up over the towel to his naked chest. Henry laughed.
“And did a fine job of it, I’m sure. Have you selected a suitable base layer today? And a shell for the wind?”
Half listening, she lined up the dishes for microwaving and rotated them in and out, a conveyor belt of minutes, checking for doneness, grabbing juice and a pair of glasses, adding silverware to the chaotic mess she was making of the countertop. She wasn’t putting sugar-laden breakfast cereal on the table, so Jay was still getting a better deal than Ollie had. Alice 2.0, the upgrade.
“—need us, but Amtrak makes like three runs a day. I checked.” Jay added a figure-eight to his path, carving around the dining room table and back through the kitchen. “Take the train to Portland, catch the transfer bus to Augusta, and I’m there by dinnertime. Anything you need I can do it. Get the house ready for Mom to come home, take turns sitting with her so she doesn’t have to be alone…”
“I love you for offering, my selfless servant.” Henry’s quiet baritone and Jay’s spiraling orbit forced her to strain to hear. “I will keep your thoughtfulness in mind today, but let us not upend everyone’s routine quite yet.”
A hint of firmness slipped into his voice at the end, so familiar she could pull it from her younger self in a heartbeat. He’d reached the exhausted appreciation of three casseroles more than the freezer would hold, when the neighbor delivering the next insisted on reading the rewarming instructions aloud even though they’d taped a note to the aluminum foil. You sure you girls are all right now? I haven’t seen your mother’s car all day. Mrs. Thompkins, their catty-corner across the street neighbor. We’re fine, but thank you so much for stopping by. Carefully edging back, letting the storm door close. I’ll let Mom know how you checked in on us.
The microwave screeched, and she yanked the door open, swapping out one bowl of oatmeal for the other. Hot hot hot , her fingers protested. “Breakfast is just about ready here.” Raising her voice, she went to rescue Henry from Jay’s need to help. “We don’t want to hold you up.” She stepped into Jay’s path and crowded into the shot with him. “Go get that shower. And eat something. I know you’ll want to be at your best when you get in to see Mother today. Give her our love, and call when you can.”
Henry pledged to do just that; she might’ve imagined the relief in his eyes. “I love you both dearly. I’ll try to call tonight after dinner.”
“We love you,” she sang out in unison with Jay, then cut the call and laid her phone on the table. “How are you doing this morning, sweetheart?”
He hooked his fingers around the front of Henry’s calendar basket and traced the 9 on the top card. “We should’ve opened the envelope in front of him—that would’ve been a jolt of the happies. It’s my day. Sorry I didn’t think of it.”
The microwave screeched again, and she almost tossed a threat its way too. But she wrapped Jay in her arms and pulled his face to her neck and stroked his back, his spine sturdy and strong under her hand. “We’ll open it over breakfast and tell him tonight how much we appreciate the work he put into his gifts.”
“Do you think I should go up there?” He swayed side to side, feet grounded, and lifted his head. His lips gathered in a thinking pucker; his eyes glinted with wild depths. “He said he’s fine, but he looks tired. I know you’ve gotta work, but I could shuffle my routes around. Handle anything else by phone.”
She did have to work; Ryan wouldn’t be back to reclaim his job until the new year. And Jay had just weeks ago skillfully organized and managed their entire wedding ceremony; he could, in fact, be a help to Henry. But he would also be a constant reminder of Henry’s obligations to them at a time when Henry needed to focus on his mom.
“Let’s wait and see.” She steered him toward the amalgamation of breakfast options. “You have therapy Wednesday, and Henry wouldn’t want you to miss it just to sit at the hospital. They probably won’t let more than one person visit with her at a time anyway. Maybe we can both go up Friday after work.”
“You don’t think he’ll be home by then?” The blueberry carton crackled a warning in Jay’s grip. “That’s the whole week.”
Now was not the time to say what she did think. It was a heart attack, and it was Henry’s mother, and it was heading into the holidays. Arranging for a home health care aide could take weeks. They’d had a few at the beginning for Dad, and he’d groused and complained and shouted at all of them. At least Henry’s mom would be a model patient by comparison.
“I think…” She nudged the maple syrup toward him. “We’ll both want to see for ourselves that Mother is fine, right? Give her our love in person?” Managing expectations would be key, though. “She might not be ready for a lengthy visit yet. But this morning, I think we should eat breakfast, and I’ll fill you in on the details, and then I need to get going.”
Jay nodded, half-naked and handsome as fuck and still the picture of dejection.
She mentally slammed her hand against the side of her head. Maybe percussive maintenance would jar loose a better answer for him. I’m sorry I’m not him came to mind, and she shoved it far, far away before her mouth could form the words and give Jay a new guilt complex to talk about at therapy. She needed to connect her men across the distance, not—wait.
“I heard Henry ask about your clothes for today.” Casual-like, she doctored her own oatmeal as if her memory wasn’t doing the victory dance it deserved, grabbing a thread from a mentoring session with Leah weeks ago. “Do you want to text him a picture after you get dressed? So he knows you’re well protected from the elements and he doesn’t have to worry? I think he’d appreciate that.”
Leah didn’t live with Drew; she sent a picture of her outfit to her master every morning for his approval. Henry might not have time for approvals right now, but just the sending could be enough.
“Yeah. Yeah.” Jay’s slow motion returned to full speed as he carried their dishes to the table. “I’d like that. Thanks, Alice.”
She followed with two glasses of juice. A day without Henry was like trying to balance a seesaw by straddling the fulcrum. For a few minutes, at least, she wasn’t about to send anything flying.