10. Last Goodbyes
10 LAST GOODBYES
Present day…
Cal
“You came!” David Delphine’s voice rang out cheerfully through his study.
The family’s palatial home on North Astor Street was the sort of building you couldn’t buy. Your family owned it, and then you owned it. Generations of Delphines lived here, but the sense of the place always remained. A huge billiards table sat in the room. I passed it to where David sat by the fireplace. He invited me to sit opposite.
“I did, yes,” I said.
“Well, you’re headed into the runoff strong, right?” David asked.
I shrugged. “I have hope.”
Two days ago, I emerged as the top performer in Chicago’s mayoral election. With forty-six percent of the vote, I had a substantial lead over the next favored candidate, Harper Morris, with just a quarter of the vote. As with anything in Chicago politics, the field was flooded with Democrats—twelve this time. I’d face the other opponents in the top-four runoff election in two months.
“You’ll be fine, man. You’ll be fine,” David said.
“It’s a foregone conclusion, I think. Unless I seriously fuck up, I’ll get through. Did you call to congratulate me?” I chuckled. “You’ve been AWOL, man. How was Michigan?”
David and Danna spent the past two months at the family’s vineyard, farm, and estate in Southwest Michigan. It was odd to see them not return in the new year, but David swore it was to give his oldest son space to run the company on his own.
“It was a good time,” David answered. “Quiet. Davey managed the flames.”
“If this is business, David, I must turn you down. I think I will have to give it all up soon.”
“Nonsense! Nah. It’s not that. You’re going to be mayor, man. That’s enough. And, either way, I’m not the man to propose twice.”
I chuckled. Two years ago, we’d stood in my now-Penthouse in a brand-new building we’d thrown up in River North and he’d offered me the CEO chair. I finally told him my plans to run for mayor—plans that didn’t include that promotion. Even now, every time I saw him, I worried I’d made the wrong choice.
David’s voice lowered, the joke and smile leaving his face. “Although, I suppose I proposed three times.”
Daphne turned him down. She was his first choice, then me. While he’d always laughed it off—saying she’d have children soon and it didn’t make sense for her to leave the UK—I knew her stay abroad wore on him. Until now, he’d never admitted his disappointment so openly.
"Are you sure you’re okay?” I asked. “Did something happen with Daphne?”
“No,” David quickly replied. “She’s… fine.”
David notably did not mention her husband. I sensed it was a bad sign, but did not pry. I’d not seen my friend like this since he lost both his parents. Even though we shared a lot, he rarely spoke of personal challenges. He gloated about the kids, complained about Danna, and did anything to avoid vulnerability.
I joked, trying to lift the mood. “So, are you here to lobby me before I’m even mayor-elect?”
“Nah. This is more of a social visit. I didn’t need anything in particular,” David said. “Speaking of which, help yourself to whatever.”
I wasn’t used to David offering me open-range on his bar cart. The Delphines were terrific hosts, but the man was anal-retentive. Everything had a place. One did not touch anything on David’s desk unless they were his beloved children. He had patience for them alone. Surprised, I poured some Macallan into a crystal glass emblazoned with the Delphine dolphin crest found throughout the house. Their motif dated back to the ornate tile work in the bathrooms first built in the late 1800s.
“Thanks,” I sat. “So, what is the social call?”
“I’m unsure how to say it, so I’ll just say it. I’m dying, Cal.”
I nearly spat out my first sip of booze. “What?”
“I’m dying. I have pancreatic cancer. I was diagnosed in September. Because it made me miserable, I kicked chemo in December, and now they’ve given me a couple of months. I’m alright. I guess I am, anyhow. Every day, I hurt a little more. It’s why we stayed out in Michigan for so long. I wanted to spend time with the kids. I suppose the joke is on me since they’re all so busy.”
How had I missed this?
In the low light, I’d overlooked his gaunt face and shakier hands. He still had the same high-energy smile of yore, but something about him was worn down. I couldn’t imagine what he felt. It was a gut punch. The world was a better place with him in it. And now—even still relatively young—we’d lose him. I fought the emotions that bubbled, remaining strong.
“I’m sorry, David. I am so, so sorry. I didn’t realize I’d been so busy with the election that I’d?—”
“Don’t blame yourself, Cal.”
“You’ve been sick half a year, and I didn’t even?—”
“Cal, I didn’t want you to know. Despite Danna wanting me to run out and tell everyone, I didn’t. I’m a proud man. The last thing I wanted was for my friends and kids to fuss over me. Don’t remember me like that, okay?”
I fought tears and nodded. While I understood the impulse, I regretted not spending time with the man who had become one of my closest friends.
“Don’t do it,” David warned. “I don’t need you getting all choked up.”
I pulled myself together. “Fine. I won’t. What can I do to help? Anything?”
“Other than listen to me bitch about it? Nah.”
“Well, I’m here now, David.”
“I know,” David said. “And I appreciate that. I missed you while I was out there. You realize you’re always welcome, right?”
“I know.”
“When I go, things will be a mess. And I feel bad saying any of this since you’re about to be the busiest man in town, but… can you watch over them? I know it’s silly. Davey could learn from you. He’s still so green. I wish Daphne would move back, but her husband barely lets her see us. He’s got his own goddamn election to contend with. It’s always something with him!”
Ah, there it was!
“Chandler?” I sighed, annoyed. “Yeah. It is always something with him.”
“She deserved better. I blame Danna to this day—love her dearly as I may—for forcing that issue. Daphne is more trapped than happy. But it might be for the best. Danna and Daphne have always fought tooth and nail since she hit puberty, so they might kill one another if Daphne moves home.”
I snickered. “That may be true. How is Danna doing?”
“She’s handling it. We’ve taken time to make peace. I’m having a good day. That’s why I called. I have horrible days, too. She’s my rock. I love her to bits. But, Cal, she’s going to be okay. She will. She’s strong.”
“She is very strong,” I agreed.
I had no doubt Danna could outlast us in a deathmatch.
“I want you to read the eulogy,” David said. “I thought about it, but I don’t think any of the kids can manage it. I think, instead, you’re the best one. I hope you will be the mayor by the day we last speak. And… it seems fitting. I’d be honored anyhow.”
What was I supposed to say? No? I couldn’t.
“Of course,” I agreed. “If it helps.”
“Good, then,” David returned to local business chatter.
He wanted gossip now more than ever. I didn’t mind feeding it to him for a good long hour before leaving. I said goodbye, fighting the urge to get too emotional, and left in my black SUV back up Lakeshore Drive to my place in River North.
“Garrett,” I addressed my driver. “Can we go up to Kristy’s?”
“Sure,” Garrett answered. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“I just… need to see her,” I said.
We continued along until I sat in a car and dialed her number.
“Cal, you cannot be calling me right now,” Kristy groaned.
“Can I come up?” I asked. “Just for a minute?”
She sighed. “Cal, you know better than to do this?—”
“I won’t stay. Something’s happened. I need to tell someone what is going on and you’re the only one I trust.”
“Sure. But the baby is asleep, so don’t knock, just text me. I’ll tell them you’re welcome in.”
The door guys knew me and let me through. I took the elevator to Kristy’s floor and stood before the familiar door I long remembered. Before I could even text, Kristy opened it. Dressed in an old robe and pajamas, she invited me in with no pretension. I loved her for it. She didn’t have to give me the time of day but would.
“How is Laurie?” I asked.
“She’s cranky. Teething.” Kristy rubbed her temples.
We stood in the foyer, not sure what to do. It wasn’t that we never talked anymore. We did—all the time. I knew a lot about her life with Laurie, the baby she’d had all on her own. I learned about her new place and her new car. I knew about the job she would take after she finished the six months of leave she prepared for. We just never spoke in person because the urge to fall back into bed with Kristy almost always won out.
“What is it, Cal?”
“David is dying,” I struggled to stop my tears. “He’s got cancer. He might not make it to election day, and… he’s dying.”
“Oh, Cal, I’m so sorry,” Kristy softened. “God, when did you find out?”
“Just now. I’m sorry for coming by. I am. It’s just… you know how my family is, and it’s not like I can tell anyone else. I don’t trust them.”
“I get it,” Kristy said. “That’s sad, Cal. He is one of your best friends. And you are one of his.”
“He asked me to give the eulogy,” I said.
“Oh, Cal, that’s a lot.”
“It is,” I said.
The baby fussed in the other room.
“Motherfucker!” Kristy groaned. “She’s never going to sleep—never ever!”
She spun out of the room to pick up the baby.
“Can I help?” I called.
“Grab a bottle from the fridge and run it under hot water,” Kristy returned.
I did as asked, remarking on the disaster that was her fridge. The woman I’d lived with for six years had everything organized. She lived to shop at the Container Store. Now, there were just bags and bins piled up—a stark expression of how parenthood changed people. At forty-seven, I had no idea what it took to be a parent. I stood there, crying about losing a friend while Kristy had just pushed a human out of her body—a human that could not fend for itself.
Kristy returned with the baby. Whether by intent or habit, she swayed to soothe her daughter.
“I stopped pumping,” Kristy said. “It was killing me. The mom group acted like I was killing her, but… I wasn’t. Well, the formula is fucking great, but I still have a few bottles left from my stash. Hope you don’t mind handling boob milk.”
I snickered. “It’s fine. Not sure if this is warm enough.”
“We’ll see,” Kristy shrugged as I passed the bottle. “Should do okay.”
I followed her into the living room, where burping cloths covered every chair and bit of sofa.
“Sorry. The place is a disaster. Welcome to my life—as a single mother by choice. I bet you are grateful you missed all of this.”
I sat in a chair while she crashed on the couch. The baby already sucked away gleefully at the bottle. She was bright-eyed over the prospect of food.
“I am not, actually,” I said. “It’s sweet. You’re a good mom. You know everything already.”
“I know very little—just enough to be dangerous.”
“She’s perfect, Kristy. Really. And she’s ready to party.”
Kristy snickered. “Ah, yes. If she were a college kid, she’d be set to go out on the town. You don’t have to stay.”
“I’ll get out of your hair,” I agreed. “Unless you want me to.”
“Not unless you want to fold laundry.”
“I could help,” I offered.
“Mr. Mayor folding my laundry? Don’t be silly!”
“I need a distraction. You give me some perspective, okay?”
“The laundry basket is over there. I hope you like onesies and nursing tops,” Kristy said.
She didn’t mind me helping. I didn’t mind pitching in. It was comforting to hear her voice and watch the old movie on TV. I could disconnect and think back to what could have been. After a bit, I left and returned to the apartment we’d once shared. It felt more like I’d been in a dream than anything. It was like going back in time. It wasn’t reality. I’d always love Kristy, even if she could no longer love me, but I realized I’d broken the habit. She moved on. She’d found love with this little bundle she brought into the world. I needed to find joy as well.
Going back in time wouldn’t fix anything or give David more years. It wouldn’t change what happened with Kristy and me or fix divisions in society. I could either put myself to good use and move forward or wallow. I’d lick my wounds tonight, but tomorrow, I would do what I needed to move forward.
* * *
Daphne
“Don’t give me that look,” Chandler said.
His face, pulled tight in a scowl, said it all. I was asking too much. Chandler wouldn’t be happy with what I asked, nor would he be likely to grant support. However, I needed to try. I sympathized with his position. This week was critical to us in many ways. I needed to “be good”, as he’d say, and listen. Unfortunately, I felt pulled across the ocean by my tortured heart.
“Dad is declining steadily.” I moved forward despite his protesting look. “Mum says I need to come home—that this may be my last?—”
“I’ve heard that three times in the past two months. He always rallies. This is no different.”
“Darling, it is. The sound of her voice was chilling.”
“I knew it was your mother. Daphne, you will do anything she asks you to do. It’s ridiculous.”
“Because she is my mother and he’s my father!”
“Yes, the Delphines! You couldn’t possibly stay away.” Disdain permeated his words.
“Chandler, I trust when they tell me it is bad. You don’t understand.” I slumped on our bed—where nothing happened in a house that remained too quiet apart from constant arguments.
“If you go, Daphne, you will miss this cycle. Again, we will fail to conceive. Think about all the money and time you will have wasted. All because your family?—”
I glared, “It is my father! He’s dying, Chandler!”
“And that is sad, but you can do nothing to stop it, Daphne.”
I struggled to find something he understood. “It looks bad in the public eye for me to not return home. Davey is dealing with a challenging market and we have a board that needs us to appear solid as a family.”
“Daphne, I love you. I care about your father, too. I know he’s this important and larger-than-life figure. I also know your dividends matter and?—”
“Don’t you think you could just be a little more understanding, Chandler?”
“I have given you a wide berth. What more do you want?”
“I’ve only known he was dying for a few months, Chandler. And when I came home, you didn’t do anything differently.”
“It’s not my fault he held that all back!”
“He didn’t want to ruin Christmas,” I sobbed.
Dad gave the news while we walked the shoreline on a still day—one I’d never forget. Since then, every time I saw him in between fertility treatments and transatlantic flights, I lost more of him. The man who loved me most was dying.
“Well, I didn’t want to disturb the normalcy. We have lives to live. It is very sad to lose your father, but… life goes on. We need to focus on our family now. Darling, you must cut the apron strings. This attachment to your family isn’t healthy at all. It’s our family or yours.”
I reeled with his words. Our family. It was never complete until we carried a child into the long-vacant nursery.
Choosing to leave meant choosing his wrath—the silence, the destruction, all of it. There was nothing I could do to stop him being this way. There was no way to fight it.
“I will go after the embryo transfer,” I acquiesced to avoid another argument, more broken objects, and a loss of my safety for one more night.
“Do you think it is wise to travel?” Chandler raised an eyebrow.
“That is the compromise I can give you,” I answered. “It’s my dad. I love him. He needs me.”
“Fine.” Chandler turned back to the paper, barely satisfied.
Neither of us was happy, but it was all I could give. My heart was shattered in pieces across the Atlantic while my body suffered here in London—feeling more human pincushion than prospective parent.