Chapter 20
I plan to wake early on Thursday, take a soothing walk on the beach, then drive to Toronto to spend the night at Reeve’s, mentally preparing to dazzle at my interview Friday morning.
However, on Wednesday night, Mr. Minard, who was supposed to return from spending the night at the Orillia hospital, has his medical transportation cancel at the last minute.
He calls the retirement home, upset that the only alternative is for him to spend yet another night in the hospital, which he hates because the beeping machines and loudspeaker announcements keep him up.
I decide to pick him up in Celine instead.
That part goes smoothly enough, but then we have to visit two different pharmacies to fill his new prescriptions.
Which means I get home late, which means I sleep in late.
And since sheer exhaustion prevented me from packing my bags the night before like a sensible human, I have to scramble to find suitable undergarments, which means yet another trip to the drugstore.
Needless to say, I am far from the absolute best version of myself when I finally close the door to my apartment and a call me it’s an emergency text comes through from my mother.
I have to call twice before she picks up.
“Julia?”
“Mom, hey, what’s wrong?”
I can hear music in the background. It sounds like the pina colada song.
“Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.” The music seems to lower. “Why would you say that?”
I take a deep breath in an effort to take my emotions down a notch. “You texted and said it was an emergency.”
My mother laughs. “Oh, that! Yes, I wanted to tell you about my new friend.”
I take two more breaths. Neither of them helps.
“I met her at the nail salon the other day,” my mother continues. “And it turns out she is a very successful real estate agent, and her office is throwing a new client party this afternoon, so I am going to swing by.”
I can see the red flag coming. “You’re buying a house?”
My mother laughs. “Of course not, but they don’t know that.”
The band around my chest loosens at the thought that some mortgage isn’t being taken out in my name.
“Anyway,” my mother chatters on. “This woman has a son your age. He’s a lawyer and looking to buy a place over in Collingwood, and I think it would be fun if you two went out. From the sound of it, he’s very single. I could plant the seed today—”
“Mom, no.” I cut her off.
“I’m not asking you to marry him, Julia. Although a son-in-law with a chalet would be a nice little bonus. I’ve always wanted to learn to—”
“I can’t, Mom,” I try again.
Her response is an audible sigh. “Why not? Because Zoe Buchanan hasn’t given her official stamp of approval or because god forbid he has a life outside of West Lake?”
“Because I am seeing someone.” I had no intention of telling my mother about Reeve—at least not for the foreseeable future—yet here I am.
“Seeing who?”
I lower my phone to check the time.
“His name is Reeve, and I’m actually on my way to visit him for the weekend and am running very late. I really need to go, so if there isn’t an emergency—”
“Visit him where?” It’s she who cuts me off this time.
“He lives in Toronto.”
“Oh! And what does he do there?”
I move down the stairs and out onto the street. If I don’t leave now, I will completely miss the campus tour I signed up for.
“He’s in real estate development.”
She doesn’t so much as take a breath and yet I can hear her excitement. “Commercial or residential?”
“He builds condos.” I rush the words out. “I’m sorry, but I really need to go. I’ll call you when I’m back, and we can talk then. Okay. I love you, bye!”
I hang up before she has a chance to protest.
I shove my phone into my purse but miss the open slot completely. It clatters to the sidewalk. I’m so concerned with making sure I haven’t cracked the screen as I pick it up that I don’t even notice Zoe on the sidewalk next to my car watching me until she asks, “What’s with the suitcase?”
Her voice startles me so badly that the strap from my gym bag slides off my shoulder and the bag falls onto the sidewalk.
“Jesus Murphy, what are you doing here?”
She bends down, picks up my dropped bag, and hands it to me. “I think you meant to say: Good afternoon, my dearest Zoe, you look absolutely radiant today. What a pleasure it is to see you so unexpectedly.”
I take the bag, open my car’s back door, and toss it onto the seat. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You just scared me. What are you doing here, though? Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
It’s just past noon. Zoe and anyone else on shift at Sunnyvale is usually in the dining room at this time, seeing as Thursdays are always butterscotch pudding day and, therefore, kind of a big deal.
Zoe holds up her phone. “Mrs. Hail wandered off without signing out. Bouchard got worried and sent me out to find her. Turns out she’s just getting her hair done, so I’m on my way back to catch the end of lunch. What are you doing?”
I haven’t told Zoe about applying for med school yet.
Or even that I’m spending the next two nights with Reeve.
Up until now, I have justified my lies as acts of omission even though she’s known every detail of my life since we were seven.
I told myself that Zoe has a big mouth and that telling her is like telling all of West Lake my plans.
It will be hard enough to let myself down if this doesn’t work out.
I don’t need pitying glances at Lou’s or the post office when I’m still here come fall.
However, Zoe is now on the sidewalk waiting for some explanation, and as much as I don’t want her to know, I also can’t lie to her face.
“Promise me you’re not going to get mad.”
Zoe crosses her arms. “Does anyone ever say yes in response to that question?”
I sigh. “No, but I thought I’d give it a shot. I’m actually headed to Toronto for the weekend.”
Zoe rolls her eyes. “Why would I be mad about that? A forty-eight-hour booty call is something I’d fully support. Do you not know me?”
I fake a laugh, which Zoe immediately sees through.
“That’s not why you’re going, is it?” She narrows her eyes.
“It is,” I counter. “I am spending the weekend at Reeve’s.
It’s just not the only reason.” I consider the best way to tell her and decide straight up and fast is my best bet.
“I also sort of applied to medical school back in October. It was kind of a whim at the time, and I didn’t think anything would come of it.
But it has, and now I have an interview tomorrow.
It’s at U of T, so I’m driving down there now. ”
I wait, attempting to look nonchalant. As if it’s no big deal, even though I know it’s a huge one.
Zoe closes her eyes and draws in a breath so deep and so loud that I can hear the hiss of her inhale through her nostrils.
“Okay, just so I have this right: you applied to med school on a whim, are planning to move to a completely new city to live this whole new life with your boyfriend, and just casually tossed it into conversation, as if this isn’t something you’ve been thinking for months and somehow forgot to inform your best friend about? ”
“Reeve isn’t officially my boyfriend.”
Zoe growls. “That’s not the point, Jules.”
I have rarely seen Zoe angry. Pissed off—sure. Annoyed—all the time. But a pure, unabashed rage is not in her usual arsenal of emotions.
But the way she spits out the word point. And the way she glares at me, nostrils flared, feet planted wide, as if it isn’t above her to swing a wild punch at my head, makes me think I’ve probably not broken the news in the best way.
“What has happened to you these last few months?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “It’s like you have this whole other secret life, and I don’t get to be a part of it.”
“I don’t have secrets. I’ve always wanted to be a doctor.”
“Yeah, but in the same abstract way I’ve always wanted to be Shania Twain. And that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about all the No, nothing’s new with me and My life is same old, same old you’ve been feeding me when you’re secretly planning your escape.”
“It’s not like that at all.”
“So how is it then?” She crosses her arms over her chest and waits.
I am very aware that I was late before and every second I spend arguing is making me later.
“Nothing is certain. It’s all just ideas at this point. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew it was a sure thing.”
She throws up her arms. “So, what? You were going to wait until your car was packed and wave at me on your way out of town? ‘See ya, Zoe, thanks for having my back for every major milestone in my life, I’ll send you a freaking postcard.’?”
“Zoe.”
“No.” She turns and crosses the street, heading for the retirement home.
“I’m sorry,” I call after her. “I didn’t mean to…” I don’t finish the thought. Mostly because I don’t know how to end the sentence. Lie? Hurt her feelings? Get into a blowout fight in the middle of the sidewalk?
I get into my car and start it. Pulling a quick U-turn, I catch Zoe just as she’s crossing the street in front of Sunnyvale.
Rolling down my window, I call out, “Hey, I’m really sorry and I love you.”
Zoe doesn’t turn around. But she does lift her hand.
To give me the finger.