Chapter 28 Questions #2
Eyes wild, he stated, “I need to get out of here for a bit.”
He shook his head and paced back and forth. “I’m in no shape right now—I’m angry—I need to think—Fuck!”
He stalked to the door. “I’ll call you, Jenny.”
I nodded.
But he left.
And he didn’t look back.
I stood in front of the window with my hands over my mouth as I watched his truck peel away from the curb.
Locking the door, I turned and went back upstairs.
In no time at all, I had both my suitcase and toiletries mostly unpacked.
All day long I waited for his call, my cell phone clutched tight in my hand.
My stomach grumbled but the thought of food made it ache.
I remembered that first meal I made him, how we ate chili at the counter.
Tears stung my eyes but refused to fall.
I remembered Ayana’s, and the night to follow. Standing on his stairs wrapped in nothing but his t-shirt and hope.
Inside, the blood in my veins slowly iced over.
I remembered the confusion clouding his eyes at his parents’ house. Would he forgive me for that?
I stared into space, the sound of my breathing loud in my solitude.
Where was he?
What was he doing?
Was he okay?
I couldn’t sit doing nothing.
Moving to the kitchen, I pulled out my sourdough starter and fed it before putting it aside to rise.
Next, I measured out flour and began the long process of making cinnamon buns.
By the time they sat cooling on the counter, the sun had finally set, calling an end to this hell of a day.
I set them on the cooling racks and left them.
I closed the blinds, double-checked the locks, and set the alarm on the security system Deacon installed. Unable to bear his scent on my pillows if he wasn’t with me, I laid down on the couch. With my cell phone clutched in my hand, I stared at the ceiling until I lost the fight to stay awake.
When it finally rang at 2 AM, I stabbed the screen to accept the call. “Deacon?”
“Sorry?” A female voice answered. “Is this Jenny?”
My blood ran cold.
I took the phone away from my ear.
At the sight of the nursing home number, I began to shake.
Hand trembling, I pressed it to my ear. “This is Jenny,” I rasped.
“Jenny.” She began gently. “It’s Abby.”
“No,” I whispered. “I just saw him.”
“I’m so sorry, honey,” she murmured.
“He was out of his wheelchair and walking and everything,” I sputtered. “How could things turn so fast?”
“He’d been declining for some time. I swear his energy tripled when you walked in the room. He loved you so much.”
Loved.
Past tense.
No.
“I’m on my way,” I blurted, the part of my mind that understood going offline. “I don’t want him to be alone. Is the doctor with him? How long does he have?”
“Honey,” she sniffed. “Is there somebody I can call for you?”
No.
I panted into the phone.
“Jenny?” she called softly. “Do you want me to call Deacon? I have his contact information in Darlene’s file.”
No.
I cleared my throat. “No. Don’t do that.”
I tipped my head back and blinked the tears away. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I choked out. “I’d like to sit with him for a bit if that’s okay.”
“Of course. We’ll see you soon.”
The drive to St. Michael’s passed in a blur of trees whipping past my window and road disappearing beneath me.
I knocked on the locked outer doors to St. Michael’s and watched as Abby hustled over and let me in.
“Honey,” she whispered.
I held up my palm and turned my face away before clipping past her down the hall.
Outside Ansel’s door, the doctor stopped me.
“What?” I snapped.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Ansel was your dad?”
I nodded, locked in disbelief.
“Your father passed away peacefully in his sleep a few minutes before two this morning.”
I stared at him, holding his eyes, challenging him to dare to say that to me.
He stared back.
Unyielding.
But kind.
Oh, God.
One tear fell, quickly followed by another until they ran unheeded down my face.
The doctor led me to a chair inside Ansel’s room and sat down in front of me, a blur of muted greys.
“If it’s any consolation, he didn’t suffer.”
I raised watery eyes to his face. “I was visiting every day. How could I miss being with him?”
His face softened. “My guess is he wanted to spare you. So many of our loved ones do that, slip away when we’re not looking.”
I nodded, my voice thick. “He would do that.”
His hand hit my shoulder, and I immediately shrank away from his touch.
He stepped back and quietly offered his condolences. “I knew your father for a long time. He was a good man. I’m so sorry for your loss. If you have any questions at all, I’ll be down the hall.”
Oh, I had questions.
Like who would be in my corner no matter what?
How was I supposed to go on without him?
Who was going to eat my cookies and brownies and chicken noodle soup?
And why, oh why, hadn’t I gone to visit him yesterday instead of packing?
I had a sudden craving for sourdough bread slathered with strawberry jam.
Taking his cold hand in mine, I laid my forehead down on the edge of his bed and I pretended, I pretended so fucking hard, that he hadn’t just left me like everybody else.