31. Izzy
31
IZZY
The sun warms my skin as the boat bobs lazily in the ocean. September is winding down, and soon, my chances of spotting a whale will be gone. By the end of October, they’ll have migrated elsewhere. I know they’re around—I’ve overheard tourists gushing over them—but apparently, they’re determined to elude me.
“I just want to see one.” I lean against the side of the boat, head cradled in my arms, with my knees on the seat. “Is that too much to ask for?”
Over my shoulder, Derrick grabs a bag of chips and opens it.
I narrow my eyes. “When did you sneak those on board?”
“Woman.” He cradles the bag protectively against his chest as he sits on the bench with me. “Let me have my chips. ”
With a faux dramatic sigh, I drop my head again. “Fine. But only if you share.”
He gladly holds the bag out to me. Derrick’s diet has vastly improved since I’ve been around. I think he’s even beginning to like a few green foods.
I take a handful, then turn back to the water, my eyes shielded from the sun with a pair of sunglasses.
Behind me, Derrick fiddles with the string on my green bikini top. “How many of these things do you own?”
“An embarrassing number.”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you wear the same one twice.”
Humming, I munch on a chip. “I have a bad habit of buying swimsuits. And companies send them to me, too, when I’m traveling, so I have an entire drawer full of them.”
“And you brought them all with you?”
“Not all , but enough.”
“Clearly,” he laughs. The sound is cut short, though, when his eyes catch on something in the distance. “Izzy, look.”
I turn back to the water and scan the surface, but excitement quickly dwindles to disappointment. “I don’t see anything.”
“Just wait,” he says, fidgeting on the seat behind me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Derrick this happy before, and I know it’s entirely because he’s glad for me . “Keep looking.”
My heart races, a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.
Because if he really did see a whale, who’s to say it’ll surface again here? It could be miles away before it comes up again.
“Be patient,” he whispers, like he can feel how tense I am.
I’ve been waiting all summer for this, and as the warm days dwindle, my hopes have gone with them. The boat rocks gently with the waves. I’ve gotten used to the motion. Love it, really. The soothing rhythm is good for my soul.
Derrick leans in, hand splayed over my back, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. As I obediently watch the water, I can’t help but wonder if my body will always respond to him this way, or if one day, it’ll wear off.
I’m about to open my mouth to tell him this is hopeless, to whine about how the universe just doesn’t want me to see a whale, when in the distance…
“Oh my God.” I grab his arm, my grip tight, and pop up on my knees. “Is that one?”
“A humpback,” he says with a kiss to my shoulder.
It’s embarrassing how quickly tears stream down my face. Of all the amazing experiences I’ve had, this tops it all. Nothing feels as powerful as witnessing nature in this way.
“Why are you crying?” he asks, carefully prying my hand off his arm and lacing our fingers.
“Because it’s so beautiful.” Another comes up near where the first surfaced, the sight making my knees weak.
Derrick grasps my waist to keep me from tumbling off the cushion.
“Just look at them.” Nature is truly astonishing in her beauty.
I spent months moping over being canceled, as if that truly matters. How could it when moments like this exist? How did I let myself care so much about what a bunch of strangers thought of me? I don’t know them. Their opinions are moot.
The pod of humpbacks stays nearby. They’re close enough to see from time to time but far enough away that I don’t feel like I’m intruding.
For an hour, we watch, and not once does Derrick mention leaving. Not once does he sigh or fidget or try to steal my attention. He knows I won’t want to leave until they do.
“They’re magnificent,” I murmur. “Look at them.”
I have to wipe a few more tears away. Seeing them in person is better than I dreamed it could be.
“They are,” he says softly, but when I turn, he’s looking at me.
Eventually, the pod moves on, and an ache forms in my chest. I don’t stop watching until several minutes go by without another glimpse of them.
When I’ve resigned myself to the knowledge that they’re gone, I tug my sweatshirt on. With the day waning, it’s grown cool.
“Moments like that show us how truly small we are,” I gush. “Nature is so vast, so infinite and we only experience a blip of it. Life’s short and things like this? I guess they remind me of why we’re truly here. The real joy in life is being content to simply exist.”
“It never gets old.” He pulls the anchor, his muscles straining. “Seeing them. It’s incredibly humbling.”
I pack up our snacks and towels and anything loose to keep it from blowing away as Derrick puts the anchor away and starts the engine. “Can I drive?”
He chuckles. “Not on your own, but come here.” He tugs me in front of him at the wheel, showing me the controls and whispering each instruction in my ear in such a sensual way that it has me squirming against him. His cock grows hard, making me eager to drop to my knees and make my boat blow job a reality. But before I can, he stops me with a hand on my hip.
“Another time.” He presses a kiss to my neck .
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he can read me so well.
While he helps me guide the boat back to Brooks’s place, he plays with my much shorter strands of hair. I’m loving the shorter cut, the bold difference, but I won’t lie and say I didn’t wake up the morning after and panic a little when I looked in the mirror.
“Would you be okay with breakfast for dinner tonight?” I ask as he cuts the motor at the dock. “I was thinking about making egg sandwiches.”
Derrick gives me a narrowed eyed look as he hops off the boat and holds a hand out to take the cooler and my bag from me. “Are you going to put fucking avocado on it?”
Humming, I tilt my head, pretending to consider the question. “Probably.”
“Then no.”
I sigh like it’s a massive hardship, then let him help me out of the boat. “I suppose I could leave it off yours.”
“Good. I don’t like that slimy shit.” He shudders.
He scoops up the cooler while I get my bag, and we head up the hill. Once we’ve loaded our things in the truck, Derrick opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in and immediately go for my phone so I can scroll through the hundreds of photos and videos I took of the whales.
The garage door opens, causing Derrick to pause in front of the truck.
I expect to see Brooks coming out to say hello, but instead, it’s his wife. She’s got her phone to her ear and her face is etched in panic. I sit up straighter and try to read her lips as she rushes to Derrick.
The two of them turn and dart into the house, so, with my heart pounding, I hop out of the truck and take off after them .
I’ve never been in here before, but I don’t stop to take it in as I follow Maura and Derrick into the kitchen. When I round the bar that separates the room from the living space, I stumble at the sight of Brooks sprawled on the ground, his face pale. Too pale.
“There’s no pulse,” Maura cries. “He’s not breathing. He’s not breathing. He’s not?—”
Derrick drops to the ground beside his best friend, lacing his fingers together, and begins chest compressions.
“Is Dad going to be okay?” I turn at the sound and find Amanda standing in the doorway with her arms around her brother. Both kids wear horror-stricken expressions. They shouldn’t be seeing this. All it takes is one look at Brooks to know this isn’t good.
Their mom, busy speaking to the emergency operator, doesn’t hear Amanda’s question.
“Let’s go this way.” I usher the kids away. I don’t have a clue where I’m leading them, but anywhere has to be better than here.
Amanda sits on a couch in what appears to be a den, wrapping her arms around her legs and folding in on herself. Jackson sinks onto the floor in front of her.
“Dad’s dead, isn’t he?” he asks, his voice small and scared. It’s a sucker punch to my chest.
“I-I don’t know,” I answer as honestly. “Paramedics should be on their way, though. Can you stay here?”
When Amanda nods, I rush back to the kitchen, where Derrick is still doing compressions and mouth-to-mouth.
Maura’s sobs are the most heartbreaking sound I’ve ever heard.
I’ve never felt so helpless and utterly useless in my entire life .
At the sound of sirens, I grip Maura’s arm to get her attention. “I’ll go outside and get them.”
The ambulance is turning into the driveway when I burst out of the garage. It only takes seconds for them to grab their supplies and follow me into the house. As they step into the kitchen, Derrick backs away from Brooks so they can take over.
The hopeless, scared look on Derrick’s face nearly makes me drop to my knees.
“The kids,” I say, wanting to get him out of here. “We should go check on the kids.”
“The kids?” he asks, his face blank, as if he’s entirely forgotten they exist.
“Yes, Amanda and Jackson. We should check on them. They shouldn’t be alone right now, and Maura needs to be with Brooks.”
I want to get Derrick out of this kitchen more than anything. I hope there’s a chance Brooks can pull through whatever has happened, but my gut tells me he’s already gone.
“Oh, God. The kids.” His horror-filled eyes meet mine. A low “fuck” leaves him, and then he takes off around the corner.
I follow him to the den, where Amanda sits in the position I left her in and Jackson is staring dejectedly up at the ceiling from where he’s lying on the floor.
My stomach aches for them.
“My dad’s dead, isn’t he?” Jackson asks without looking away from the ceiling. “It’s okay”—he turns his head and zeroes in on Derrick—“you can be honest.”
“I don’t know, kid.” Derrick sits on the floor beside him and Jackson scurries into his lap. “I truly don’t know. ”
Amanda bites her lip, tears falling silently down her cheeks. Sitting beside her, I wrap my arms around her. I expect her to push me away. She barely knows me, after all. Instead, she practically collapses into my arms.
These poor kids.
Maura rushes into the room. “They won’t let me go with him,” she practically shouts. “Why the fuck won’t they let me go with my husband?” She turns around in a circle, her hands flailing. “I need my keys. And my ID.” She pats herself down. “I have to… I have to follow them.”
Derrick gently lifts Jackson and ushers him to the couch on my other side, then turns and clasps Maura’s shoulders to still her. “I’ll drive you and the kids to the hospital. Take a breath.”
She obeys, and as she inhales, her legs give out, and she collapses against him.
“Izzy, can you get my keys?”
I give both kids a gentle squeeze, then ease off the cushion and approach Derrick, who’s still holding most of Maura’s weight. I shove my hand in his pocket, feeling for the keys. Once I’ve extracted them, I instruct the kids to follow me.
I have a feeling Maura needs a moment.
The ambulance is gone, the chaos has stopped. Now the house is eerily quiet.
The kids get in the back seat, and Amanda wraps her arms around her little brother. He cries softly, looking out the window.
I hop in the driver’s side and crank the engine. It’s another minute, maybe two, before Maura and Derrick come out.
The desolate look on her face feels like a kick to my gut.
Derrick helps her into the back and makes sure all three are wearing seat belts before hopping in beside me .
“You’ll have to tell me where to go. I’m not sure where the hospital is.”
Derrick nods, his eyes sunken and dark.
With a deep breath in, I give his knee a squeeze. Then I put the truck in reverse, wishing I could hug him and tell him it’ll all be okay. But we don’t know that, and no one in this truck needs false promises.
Ten minutes later, I pull the truck up to the emergency room entrance.
“I’ll park the truck. Go on.”
Derrick blinks at me for a moment, hesitant, but eventually nods. He needs to be with them right now, and there’s a good chance it’ll take me a while to park this monstrosity of a truck in any way that won’t get me a ticket or a good keying.
Once I’ve parked in a way I think won’t cause trouble, I take a moment to catch my breath. It feels selfish, the need to do that when Maura’s world, her kids’ world is potentially blowing up, but I need a moment to recover from the whiplash of this evening so I can be available to them and to Derrick in any way they need.
Everything was going so well until it wasn’t.
Ten more seconds.
That’s all I give myself to wallow before I get out of the truck and head for the entrance.
It takes me a moment to get my bearings when I step inside. Once I do, I head left, following the signs that read Emergency Room .
When I get to the first corner, I find Derrick pacing back and forth in front of the help desk.
“Hey.” I put a hand to his back, hoping not to startle him. “Do you know anything? ”
He shakes his head, his shoulders sagging. “He’s gone, Izzy. I just know it.”
“I’m so sorry, Derrick. Let’s have some hope, okay?”
It takes all my strength to usher Derrick over to a set of plastic chairs. He’s so much larger than me and so out of it that he’s little help, but somehow, I manage.
“We don’t know anything yet,” I remind him. “Try to remain positive.”
But I, like him, feel like there’s no hope.
When someone’s that pale and lifeless? It can’t be good.
Derrick drags his hand down his stubbled cheek, making a rasping sound. “He’s… fuck. He’s such a good friend, you know? His kids are still… kids. They need him. It doesn’t feel right. I couldn’t get him to breathe. I tried, but I just…” He looks away from me, his shoulders shaking.
I’ve never felt so helpless as I do now, sitting beside him as he breaks down, unable to take his pain away.
I put my hand on his arm, offering as much comfort as I can. I don’t say anything, because what can be said at a time like this? I won’t placate him or spout a bunch of empty words. Until we know what’s going on, it’s better if I stay quiet.
The emergency room is small and relatively quiet. Rather than comforting, though, the silence feels truly isolating. I’d almost prefer for there to be more people here instead of only the two of us.
Wiping his face, he says, “They said they were taking Maura and the kids back to a private room. I don’t have experience with this, but I have a feeling it’s where they give you bad news.”
“Or maybe Brooks is stable and in a private room, and that’s what they meant. ”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe me. Frankly, I don’t believe me.
“Derrick—”
He shoots to his feet and paces the short length of the room.
I send a text to my sister, letting her know what’s going on and to tell Reid. She might not know Brooks, but I’m sure Reid does, and he’ll know what this is doing to his dad. Maybe he can help Derrick in a way I can’t.
Needing an excuse to get up, I wander to the water cooler in the corner of the room and fill one of the paper cups. After a long inhale and exhale, I take a sip, finding that my throat is surprisingly dry.
Derrick does another few laps around the room before collapsing in the chair he occupied previously.
He bends over and drops his head between his knees like he’s lightheaded.
“Derrick?” I hurry over to his side. Rubbing the back of his neck, I ask, “Are you okay?”
“No.”
I wish I could take away his pain, but to get an honest answer out of him like this is all I can ask for.
“Here, drink some water.” I all but shove the paper cup at him.
Straightening, he looks at it like it’s a strange animal he’s concerned will bite him. But eventually, he accepts it and drains the cup in one gulp. I hurry to refill it and bring it back to him. This time, I crouch in front of him, trying to get a good look at his face since I’m concerned he might pass out.
He holds the cup delicately between his fingers, like he’s scared if he holds on too tight, he’ll crush it, and takes careful sips this time .
“Maybe we should go,” he says quietly once the cup is empty again. “Maura… She doesn’t need us anymore.”
My chest aches at the defeat in his tone. “We can go if you want, but if you want to stay, we’ll do that.”
He mulls it over for a silent moment, then finally says, “Stay, I guess. I need to know, and Maura… She’ll need a way home. I didn’t think about that.”
“Okay.” With a light squeeze to his leg, I stand, then throw the cup into the trash can beside the water cooler.
It remains eerily quiet in the ER lobby, where we sit side by side, for ten minutes or so, before an older couple comes hurrying inside.
Derrick stands immediately, recognition on his face. “Do you know anything?” he asks.
“Maura called and said that Brooks collapsed,” the man says, running a shaky hand through his white hair. “Told us to get here as fast as we could. Are the kids okay? Is Brooks okay?”
“I don’t know,” Derrick croaks. “Maura and the kids are back there.”
Like he’s conjured her, the doors to our left open, and Maura appears.
It’s obvious from her swollen eyes and red face that she’s been sobbing. She runs to the people I assume are her parents and breaks down. They hold her, murmuring words of comfort.
Seeing someone breakdown like that?
It’s a humbling experience. My heart cracks in two for her. For her kids. For Derrick.
She hiccups, and tears flood her eyes again. “He’s gone. He’s really gone. It was… They’re saying it was an aneurysm. He’d been complaining of headaches—” She holds he r own head, taking several breaths. “I didn’t think it was anything serious or I would’ve made him go to the hospital. I…” She straightens and looks at her parents. “Is this my fault? I should’ve known something was wrong. Brooks never gets headaches and…” Trailing off, she sinks to the floor.
Her mother goes with her, tentatively lowering herself, her husband helping her down. Then she wraps her daughter up and rocks her from side to side.
I feel sick to my stomach, like I could vomit into the nearest trashcan. Lightheaded, I sit. The last thing any of these people needs is to have to deal with me because I’ve passed out.
“The kids are saying their goodbyes now. His parents should be here any minute. He wanted… he always said that he’d want to donate his organs, so we don’t have much time.” She wipes at her wet face. “God, I can’t believe I’m talking about his organs right now. My husband is dead, and I’m worrying about that.”
Maura’s mother stands with the help of her husband, then the two of them help their daughter to her feet, though she can’t fully straighten.
It’s like, suddenly, she’s carrying the weight of the world.
“Do you want to see him, Derrick? You can come back if you want.”
Derrick freezes, then very carefully shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I just… I’m sorry. I have to go.” He takes off toward the exit.
I stand and give Maura’s hand a squeeze. I don’t want to say I’m sorry. It’s not what she needs right now. Instead, I say, “We’ll check in and see if you need anything, okay?”
Maura nods, and her parents give me sad, appreciative smiles .
Outside, I find Derrick pacing in front of the hospital, hands clasped behind his head.
When he turns to me, his face is streaked with tears.
I hate this—being completely and utterly useless. I don’t know what to do or what to say. His best friend just died. There’s no way to ease a sting like this.
“Do you need a minute?” I ask him. “Before we go?”
He shakes his head, wiping at his face. “No, I need to get out of here.”
“Okay. Truck’s this way.”
He follows and doesn’t protest when I get in the driver’s side. He’s in no state to get us home.
The silence in the cab remains the whole way home, only interrupted by a sniffle from him every now and then.
Once I’ve cut the engine in the driveway, we sit, both staring out the windshield.
Derrick turns to me slowly, eyes swollen and nose red. “He’s gone.” He snaps his fingers. “Just like that. He was going about his day like normal and now he’s not here.”
With my hands settled on the steering wheel, I stay quiet and let him talk.
“Life is really that fragile.” He looks out the window when he says it. “Nothing is a guarantee.”
Silence falls once again. I let it linger for a moment before saying, “We better head inside.”
Nodding, Derrick reaches woodenly for the door handle.
He manages to get the front door unlocked without difficulty, and when he pushes it open, Wonton greets us, bouncing excitedly at our feet. Ignoring him, Derrick heads straight upstairs.
Wonton lowers to all four paws and cocks his head at me, as if to say, “What’s his problem? ”
“It’s been a bad night,” I tell him as I scoop him up. “Let’s take you out to potty.”
Wonton quickly does his business, and since it’s past dinnertime for him, he scarfs down his food the instant I set his bowl on the floor. I doubt Derrick is going to eat anything now, and the thought of food leaves my own stomach roiling, so I grab two cans of ginger ale from the fridge and a sleeve of graham crackers and take them up with me.
I find Derrick sitting on his side of the bed. His shirt is gone, and he’s in the process of taking his shoes off, but he seems to have frozen.
“I brought sodas and graham crackers.” I set both on the dresser, then step closer to him. “Why don’t you get a shower? It might make you feel better?”
He nods, his focus fixed on the floor, and shoves his hair back with long fingers.
“Do you want me to turn it on for you?”
Another nod.
I hesitate, surveying him, his hollow eyes, slumped shoulders, sagging cheeks, then head for the bathroom and get the water running. He’s still in the same position when I step back into the bedroom, so I kneel before him and untie his shoes, then slip them off. Once I’ve set them to the side, I rest my hands on his knees and rise up a little, finally garnering his attention.
“Tell me what I can do to help you? Please.” I’m not above begging. It hurts to see him like this, like a heavy weight crushing my chest. If I can help in any way, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
“I don’t know,” he says softly. “I just don’t know.”
Angling in, I kiss his cheek. “I’m going to check on Wonton. You get in the shower, okay? ”
I hate leaving him there, but I need to make sure Wonton ate and let him out again in a few minutes.
“I’ll check on you in a few,” I tell him as I slip out of the bedroom.
Wonton’s bowl is empty, and as I pick it up, he wags his tail proudly. I clean it in the sink, and just as I set it on the drying pad, my phone vibrates in my back pocket. At first, I consider ignoring the call. I’m too drained. But I pull it out to check the display anyway, and when I see that it’s Via, I answer.
“Hey, how are you doing?” she asks.
“Okay, I guess.” I swallow past the lump that’s been lodged in my throat for hours. “It was scary, but I’m mostly worried about Derrick. He’s really out of it.”
“Reid said Brooks is probably his closest friend,” she says, her tone soft. “It’s understandable that he’s struggling.”
“You’re right. I just wish I knew how to help him.”
“Just be there for him,” she says simply. “That’s really all you can do.”
“I will be.”
Once we’ve said our goodbyes, I let Wonton out again, then head back upstairs. Derrick’s still in the shower, and under normal circumstances, I’d join him, but I don’t think that’s the right thing to do, so I opt to shower in the guest bath.
I feel like a new person, albeit still tired, when I get out and pull on my pajamas. I open the bathroom door to find Wonton sleeping on the floor, belly up. He startles, giving me an offended look, either because I disturbed his beauty sleep or because I locked him out of the bathroom. I’m not sure which.
The master bathroom is quiet, but light emanates from under the door, so I turn the TV on and flip through the channels until I land on an episode of Friends . I figure that’s tame enough to have for background noise .
I’m a tad worried he might not want me in here tonight, but I don’t want to leave him alone. So I set Wonton on the bed, climb under the blankets, and listen to the quiet whir of his electric toothbrush.
Wonton eyes me from the foot of the bed, his head cocked in curiosity. He’s probably confused, since this entire evening hasn’t followed the routine we established months ago.
The toothbrush stops, the faucet runs, and then the light goes off.
The bathroom door eases open quietly.
“Hey.” His eyes soften when he finds me in the bed.
“Feeling better?” I toss back the blankets on his side, making space.
With a groan, he lies on his back and covers his face with his hands. “Yes and no.”
My heart cracks at the pain in those three words. “Do you want to talk about things?”
His body shakes with an exhale, like he’s on the verge of crying again. “No, I don’t.”
“Okay.”
The show plays in the background, a quiet soundtrack to the moment. Wonton stands, circles, digs at the comforter, then plops back down again. We ignore it all, instead rolling to face each other.
One emotion after another flickers across his face. Pain, love, worry, regret, fear. It all lingers there until settling into something more neutral.
Cupping my cheek, he rubs his thumb over my bottom lip.
“What do you want? What do you need?” I whisper as he applies pressure to my mouth.
“Just you,” he answers.
“You already have me. ”
He swallows thickly, his eyes taking in every detail of my face.
Then he leans in and kisses me. Slow and sweet.
Then more urgent.
With a groan into my mouth, he moves over me, removes my clothes, traces my skin delicately. Memorizing.
When he sinks inside me, our movements are slow, reverent. He makes love to me like he’s terrified he might lose me, and I hold on tight, scared of the same.
When it’s over, he holds me, and I pray to the universe that he’ll never let go.