Chapter 7
Jack
Eight Weeks
Abby’s name flashes across my phone screen, and I reach for it as I take a long drink from the cold coffee I made hours ago but keep forgetting to drink.
“Hey, what’s up?”
No words come from the other line, just sobbing.
My mug drops onto my desk, coffee seeping through the cracks onto the carpet below.
“Abby? What’s wrong?”
I can only make out a few words between gasping breaths– “mean,” “bitches,” “stupid,” “pharmacy.”
“Okay, slow down,” I say soothingly. “Take some deep breaths.”
I hear a rattling inhale, followed by something somewhere between a hiccup and a sob.
“Can you come here?” she manages to choke out.
“On my way,” I say without hesitation, rising from my chair and swiping the keys off the hook by the door.
“Will you stay on the phone with me?” she whispers.
“For as long as you want,” I promise.
She doesn’t say anything else, intermittent sniffling the only indication that she’s still on the line.
I don’t know why I do it, but I fill the silence with live updates on my location.
“Okay, I’m on Third now.”
“At the stoplight in front of the coffee house.”
“Turning onto your street.”
“Okay, I just parked.”
I bring the phone up to my ear, not ending the call until she opens the door. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, her cheeks blotchy from crying. I step through the door and wrap my arms around her.
We stand there silently for a few minutes, until she’s no longer shaking. When we settle into the couch, she takes a deep breath and recounts her trip to the doctor, and the subsequent stop at the pharmacy.
“They ruined it,” she whispers miserably, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “This was supposed to be such a special day for me, and they ruined it.”
“I can bribe the police chief into giving them annoying traffic tickets,” I offer, smoothing her hair as she lays her head on my shoulder. “One mile over the limit, rolling stops, not using their blinker. Anything and everything they can think of.”
“You can’t use your powers for evil,” she says, sounding like she’s got a major head cold. “You’re too good for that.”
“I’d do it for you,” I shrug. “Morality has its exceptions.”
“You’re the best,” she says with a watery chuckle. “Thank you for coming over.”
“Always.”
“Will you…” she begins tentatively. “Will you stay? Being in this house alone is awful on a good day, and today was awful, and I just can’t handle being alone.”
“You know I will,” I nod. “I won’t go anywhere.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, barely audible.
She squeezes my arm before disappearing down the hall and returning with a pillow and blankets.
“Is the couch okay?” she asks nervously. “I would offer you the spare room, but I’ve been sleeping in there. I can’t bring myself to sleep in our bed. Not by myself.”
“Couch is perfect,” I say, taking the bedding from her. “Couch, floor, bathtub–I’ll be wherever you want me.”
“I’d like to see you try to sleep in the bathtub,” she says with a hollow laugh. “Your knees would be up to your chin.”
“Who knows, it could be the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.”
“Maybe we’ll save that experiment for another day.”
She sounds exhausted, not just physically but mentally. Losing a spouse, growing a person, weathering judgments and opinions from people who don’t know her. Any one of those things would be a lot to handle, and she’s dealing with all three, and more.
My heart aches at the dark circles under her green eyes, their usual sparkle dimmed. I hug her tightly one more time before sending her to bed.
Aaron was one of the best friends I’ve ever had. So is Abby. And for the first time, it really hits me that nothing will ever be the same.
The grief nearly cracks my chest open.
If there’s anything I can do to help her, I’m going to. No matter what it is, or what it requires of me.
Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling and make a silent promise to my friend that his wife and child won’t ever be alone.
***
The next morning, I pick up breakfast and coffee before Abby wakes up. I’ve just finished setting up the table when she stumbles into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, her curls a chaotic halo around her.
“Good morning,” she yawns. When she sees the table, her eyes go wide with delight. “Coffee for me?”
“And bagels,” I say. “I thought those might be mild enough for your stomach.”
She wastes no time grabbing a plate and slathering her bagel with cream cheese.
“Which one is mine?” she says through a mouthful of food, pointing at the two to-go cups.
“This one,” I say, setting the drink in front of her. “I got you decaf, I didn’t know if you were allowed to have caffeine since you’re pregnant.”
“I’m allowed to have one cup of coffee a day, thank you very much,” she says, glaring at me as though I’ve betrayed her. “And I need it, Jack, I’m growing a person. I’m so exhausted all the time and–”
“Alright, alright,” I say loudly, swapping the cups in front of us. “You can have mine.”
She takes a sip, moaning loudly as she does. I clear my throat, cheeks heating.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to never make that noise in front of me again.”
“Jack Robbit, you old rascal,” she says with a wicked grin. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Don’t call me that,” I deflect, rolling my eyes. I take a drink of what was supposed to be her coffee, and I swear I can taste the difference.
Decaf is a fucking scam.
“Thank you for staying last night,” she says. “It means a lot to me.”
“Any time, Abby,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “I mean that. Literally any time.”
She smiles, turning her attention to her breakfast. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.
“My next appointment is next week,” she says, glancing at me nervously. “Would you–”
She pauses, chewing nervously on her lower lip.
“Would I what?”
“Would you maybe want to come with me?”
I blink at her stupidly for several moments before remembering how to speak again.
“You want me to come with you?”
“I mean, yeah,” she mumbles, running her fingers along the hem of the tablecloth. “I’m glad I went to the first appointment by myself, I feel like that was important.”
A stab of pain rips through my chest at the fear in her eyes when her eyes met mine again.
“But I don’t want to go to every appointment alone.”
I stare at her again, trying to grapple with the immense honor that she wants me to come with her, and the immense grief that it should be Aaron, not me.
“You don’t have to,” she says quickly. “I can ask Ellie, or my dad, or Andrea. I shouldn’t have asked you, I don’t know what came over me.”
“No,” I bark out, her eyes widening at the harsh tone. “No,” I say again, more gently. “I’m sorry. I’d be honored to go with you.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I reach across the table to grab her hand.
“Thank you for asking me,” I say, trying to clear the emotion from my throat. “It means a lot. That you would want me there, of all people.”
“Of all people,” she laughs. “What do you mean of all people? Excluding myself, Aaron loved you more than anyone. He’d want you to be there.”
Do not cry.
“And,” she says slowly, like she’s choosing her next words very carefully. “And I love you. And I want you there too. You meant so much to both of us. If it can’t be Aaron,” her voice cracks on the last word. “I can’t really imagine it being anyone else.”
“You tell me when and where to show up, and I’ll be there.”
Squeezing her hand, I smile at her before dropping it and turning back to the bagel that’s gone cold.
Wondering if this is going to become a habit, I send another silent message to my friend, hoping that somehow he can hear me.
See, man? I promised they won’t be alone, not on my watch.