26. On the Mend
On the Mend
AIDAN
The human body worked miracles.
At first, I thought I’d be sick forever.
My last day as a human would be consumed by bowls of Italian wedding soup; warm, damp washcloths splayed across my forehead; and all-day TCM viewings before going gentle into that good night, but by the morning of New Year’s Eve, I was back to my healthy self.
Thanks to Isla’s help, I’d kicked the cold and caught up on several years’ worth of classic black-and-white movies during my recovery.
“When did the world become color?” I’d asked her in an extremely nasally voice one night as the opening credits for a new film began—something starring Katharine Hepburn, who was fast becoming a favorite of mine.
Isla laughed so vehemently that she threw herself into a coughing fit that lasted for minutes. I raced to get her water. Tears streamed down her cheeks upon my return. “Are you okay?” I asked, deliriously worried she’d caught my germs.
When she collected herself, she explained that color had always existed, but that film evolved over time, and then we watched an old VHS tape of The Wizard of Oz together.
“That’s what it was like,” I said when Dorothy stepped out of her sepia farmhouse and into the vibrant color of Munchkinland.
“That’s what going from a mannequin to a human was like. ”
Isla aimed a sadness-tinged smile at me and passed me the popcorn bowl.
I understood why Henry loved this woman so much. She cared for me and broke the rules for me, even when she didn’t have to. People could be so giving.
I begrudged the universe’s magic for stealing me away right as I was beginning to build true relationships. I clung to the small hope that her unrequited love theory was correct. It was better than dwelling on the worst-case scenario.
Isla came back from lunch with leftovers and Alexa. “Look who I found in the lobby,” she said.
Alexa carted an unwieldy package through the door with her. Her forehead was shiny. The last time I’d seen her she was delivering my clothes to me from Henry’s place. It hurt that Henry would send someone else, almost as badly as my sinus pressure hurt at the time.
“Hello again. Happy New Year’s Eve!” Alexa grunted as she set the package down. “Jeez, they really crank the heat in this place. I come bearing extremely heavy gifts.”
The package was rectangular and wrapped in brown paper. Twine was tied tightly around it, creating a grid of knots. On the paper the words For Aidan were written using a thick-tipped red marker in Henry’s familiar hand.
Isla took one look and clucked. “Gift, dear. One gift. And not even for me. Story of my life.”
“I’m taking you out for cupcakes and coffee,” Alexa said cheerily.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Isla asked, perking up at the prospect.
Alexa wiped the sweat off her face. Her flawless makeup stayed in place somehow. “Sid and I are drawing up some plans for reorganizing the Anchor Avenue storefront. Nobody knows the space better than you. I want your honest thoughts.”
“I’m not sure you can handle my honest thoughts, but I’ll share my filtered-for-polite-company thoughts if you’d like. Let me grab my purse.”
As soon as Isla and Alexa left, stillness crackled in the air. The ticking clock mounted to the wall grew progressively louder. The package stared at me from the spot where it leaned against the wall.
“Just do it, Aidan. Just open it.” I coached myself up and off the couch, found a pair of scissors, and snipped away the wrapping.
It was disappointing to find a wooden box. Finely crafted and smooth, but nondescript and unable to be opened by hand. Was this another piece of art I didn’t get like the urinal we saw at the museum?
What was Henry trying to tell me with this?
My heart plummeted with each passing hour that I sat and stared. Stared and sat. Stewed in my own intellectual shortcomings.
I thought about texting Henry and asking him what he meant by this, but it had been days.
Days where I ignored his attempts to contact me and vacillated between wanting him to show up at the door dripping wet from rain and holding out flowers and needing him to stay as far away as possible for fear those all-consuming feelings of anger might hijack my system again.
I turned on the TV and drowned out my disappointment. Reruns of Sex and the City did the trick.
Alexa and Isla returned shortly before dinner still chatting about the soap shop and all the ways Alexa and Sid could turn the space into a premier gift location.
“We brought you a treat from the bakery!” Isla announced, waving a see-through container in the air.
A brightly colored cupcake doused in sprinkles jostled inside.
“I’m not hungry,” I said, eyes never leaving the TV.
“What’s wrong?” Isla asked.
“You didn’t even open your gift,” Alexa said before kicking at the box.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “That’s the gift.”
Alexa looked right at me and cackled. My face fell.
“He’s just—” Isla began to defend me.
“I know,” Alexa said between laughs. “I know the truth, I mean. Henry told me. But that’s not the gift, Aidan. That’s the crate the gift is in. Do you have a screwdriver?”
“I may be old and femme, dear, but I’m still a lesbian. Of course I have a screwdriver.” Isla riffled through her hall closet. She couldn’t pick up the tool bag herself, so Alexa stepped in and dragged it out.
Carefully, she flipped the crate on its side and unscrewed one side of the bottom. The slender end swung open like a door. From within, Alexa produced a bubble-wrapped canvas. “I think you can handle the rest from here.”
I knelt on the floor beside her. A small green Post-it Note was stuck to the wrap.
I’m sorry again about what I said. That’s not how I see you. This is…
I used a knife to cut off the tape.
It was a portrait of me, but not just any portrait. Dozens and dozens of wonderful gadgets and gizmos had been repurposed to portray me.
It was done in a vibrant pop art style. Henry had cut up Cam’s old jeans and used the swaths of denim as a simple background.
My hair was made of uncooked pasta, and my teeth were formed from pieces of gum.
Beads and paintbrushes and the foil of a condom wrapper.
The bristles of my toothbrush and one of Topher’s deconstructed cat toys.
A shiny shopping bag made up most of my shirt.
There were blank spaces, too. Blocks where there was no painting, no glued-on objects.
Just white canvas. In the moment, I assumed this was a necessity of timing—he couldn’t finish or couldn’t find the right objects—but later, I’d come to see it for the metaphor it was.
I was still filling myself in. I still had time to do so.
None of it should’ve worked together, but it did, beautifully. And it brought happy tears to my eyes, just like the ones I was hit with when I watched the sunrise for the first time on the pier.
Whether this painting was a declaration of love or not, or if Isla’s theory was true or not, I had only a handful of guaranteed time, and I didn’t want to waste another second by icing Henry out. “I’m going to call Henry. I want to see him,” I announced.
“Isla said the center is holding a little New Year’s Eve gathering in the recreation hall tonight,” Alexa said.
“Is it for midnight? I can’t wait that long,” I said, searching around for my phone. I’d barely needed it for days, so it could’ve been anywhere. I checked under cushions.
“Dollface, the residents of this establishment have not seen midnight in decades. The party starts at seven and ends sensibly at eight thirty. I will be arriving no earlier than seven forty-five because that is when a diva makes her entrance,” Isla explained.
“Also because I had no intention of going but now that you seem set on it, it will take me at least three hours to pick out an outfit and make up my face.”
“I’ll help,” said Alexa, following Isla into her room and shutting the door.
It was clear they were giving me the privacy I needed to call Henry.
Once I found my phone!
I nearly tore the place apart. By the time I located it, it was almost five thirty. Isla would be leaving for the late dinner service. I wasn’t sure if Henry would have other plans. I tapped his contact. The phone rang and rang to no answer.
His voicemail message sent shivers down my spine. I wanted his voice close, in my ear again. I wanted him here, now.
I called again. Still no answer.
On the third try, I left a voicemail. “Henry! Henry.” His name lingered sweetly on my taste buds.
“Henry, your gift. I got your gift. It’s beautiful.
More beautiful than anything we saw in that museum you took me to.
I’m feeling better. I survived my first cold!
It may well have been my only cold.” I decided not to harp on it.
Midnight was still hours away. “Listen, there’s this New Year’s Eve party tonight at Sunshine Meadows.
It starts at seven, Isla wants to be there at seven forty-five.
Do you want to meet me in the lobby at seven thirty?
If you don’t have any other plans. I hope you get this. ”
I felt fairly confident he’d show, so I started getting ready.
At six, Alexa emerged from the bedroom to tell me Isla would not be going down to dinner as she’d put her hair up in hot rollers and it would be a while, so she was going to fetch food for the two of us. Did I have any requests?
For a split second, I was an inmate on death row. If I had to go out, what did I want my last meal to be?
She brought us back cedar-plank salmon, vegetables, and fresh bread from a local chain restaurant.
I ate across from Isla, whose head was overrun with pink tubes like she was a science experiment gone rogue.
Alexa was meeting Sid and his family for a fireworks dinner cruise that she needed to be off to.
“I’ll see you both soon,” she said, wrapping her scarf around her neck at the door. Her eyes met mine, loaded then with sympathy. “I hope to see you both soon. Nope. You know what? I will see you both soon. Happy New Year!” She blew kisses into the room before dipping out.
“Are you ready to see Henry?” Isla asked not long after Alexa departed.
“More than ready. I missed him,” I said. “It’s funny that I could be upset with him and miss him at the same time.”
“Being human comes with plenty of such contradictions. You’ll get used to it,” she said, as if she were certain midnight wasn’t my enemy.
“He made you a beautiful painting. I knew he still had it in him. Makes me feel better that, after giving the store to Alexa, his talent is still intact. He’ll land on his feet. Plus, he’s got you to look after him.”
I wanted to agree, but something in my chest was stopping me.
After watching all those movies, I couldn’t help but wonder what else was out there.
There was a whole world beyond Ocean Glen.
I craved to see it. Would Henry be willing to voyage away with me?
If not, would I be brave enough to go alone?
“I’m scared,” I admitted.
“I understand,” she said. “I used to be scared of the end, too. The uncertainty will always be hanging there. In a way, we’re all just waiting out the inevitable, but dollface, find all the pleasures you can while you wait.
Indulge in so many pleasures that you forget you’re waiting because once you get to be my age—and you will get to be my age—there’s a lot less you’re capable of. Eat up the world while you can.”
I let that sink in before I cleared our empty dinner plates and put them in the dishwasher.
The cupcake caught my eye on the counter.
God, it looked delicious. I brought it back to the table while Isla pulled out her cooled rollers one at a time and set them in a neat pyramid. “What flavor is it?” I asked.
“Maple walnut. It was a holiday flavor. You liked the pancake syrup from the dining hall here, so I figured it was a safe bet.” She smiled warmly at me.
“Thanks,” I said. I took my first bite. My mouth lit up, and warmth spread down my neck. The cupcake was moist, and the frosting was toothache-sweet, but I savored it all the same, until Isla’s face went pale, and her eyes flashed so wide I could see most of the milky whites of them.
“Isla?” I asked as she lurched toward me, my voice barely a squeak. I dropped my cupcake. “What’s wro—” The rest of the question got trapped in my panicked throat.