Chapter 17
Sage
“I’m sorry, Miss. He has requested no visitors at this time.”
Although her words hurt, her eyes are sympathetic, and I manage to nod through my discomfort. “Thank you,” I say rather pathetically.
“What did she say?” asks Frankie, standing up from a seat in the visitors’ lounge.
“That he doesn’t want to see anyone.”
“Well, you’re not just anyone. Did you give her your name?”
I shake my head. I don’t try to kid myself into thinking I’m someone more special to Casey than one of his own family members. “No, Frankie. But it doesn’t matter. He wants to be alone.”
She sighs and crosses her arms. “Well, I guess that’s understandable. He’s probably tired. Maybe give him the night and we can come back in the morning.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
After spending the night at a motel, Frankie and I are back the next day. Frankie’s heels click loudly against the laminate hospital floor. “Sorry,” she whispers when I look down. “I didn’t bring anything else.”
“It’s okay. I’m just nervous and feeling on edge.”
We drove straight to the hospital from Niagara Falls and then not seeing Casey right afterwards was difficult. But this morning, I feel nervous. Nervous that he won’t want to see me again.
“Good morning, I’m here to see Casey Tucker.” I hold my breath, hoping for a different result.
The nurse sitting behind the desk checks her computer. “I’m sorry. Mr. Tucker has requested no visitors.”
“I see.” Not ready to give up, I ask, “Do you know when he will be ready?”
She doesn’t look up. “I’m not sure.”
“Please. I drove all the way from Niagara Falls. I need to know when I can see him.”
The nurse sighs, then looks over her shoulder before answering. “I really don’t know. But if you ask me, that boy is not suitable for company right now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t take it personally because it’s not just visitors.
He barely lets staff into his room, saying only Shelly is allowed inside.
He’s supposed to start physio tomorrow, but he’s refused them, too.
He just barks at everyone except Shelly.
So, trust me when I say you don’t want to be in there right now. ”
But I do.
The trouble is, he doesn’t want to see me or anyone else.
“What are we going to do?” asks Frankie. “Do you want to wait around here for a bit?”
I inhale and exhale slowly. I don’t know when Casey will be ready to see people, but we need to respect his boundaries.
He’s hurting right now and he needs time to process what’s happening.
Jane told me what the doctor told Casey.
That couldn’t have been easy for him to hear.
It makes sense that he’s having a hard time taking it in.
“No. We should go. He’s telling us that he needs time to understand what’s happening to him. We should respect that. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
Frankie nods and we leave the hospital with a heavy feeling in my chest. It feels wrong walking away, but I also don’t think forcing myself onto Casey is right, either.
Time. He just needs time.
I tell myself that the next day when he doesn’t answer his phone. So, I let him be and wait for him to call me back.
It feels wrong, but I convince myself that it’s the right thing to do.
*
More than three weeks later, I’m sitting inside a classroom at Mohawk University writing my final exam. I’m writing furiously to get my last thoughts on paper for the essay and wrap up my conclusion before time runs out.
“Pens down,” the professor says from the podium at the front of the classroom. “Please bring your papers but make sure your name and student ID is on the top of the page. I can’t tell you how many A’s I’ve given to anonymous students. Don’t let that be you.”
Scanning the top of the paper, I realize I’ve forgotten my ID number. Quickly, I scribble it down. Shit. My mind has been focused elsewhere these past few weeks, and I’ve had the hardest time concentrating.
Professor Fox stops me after I turn in my exam. “Ms. Summers, can I see you for a moment after I collect the exams?”
I notice some students’ eyes widen at the question, but I simply respond with, “Of course.” I’m a few years older than most of my classmates, but I still feel nervous being summoned by my professor.
I wait for everyone to leave before I approach Professor Fox again. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, and I won’t take up too much of your time. Ms. Summers an opportunity has come up, and I’d like to recommend you should this be of interest to you.”
“Oh? What sort of opportunity?”
“It is for a physiotherapist at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City.”
“New York City?”
“Yes. It’s an incredible opportunity to work with one of the best teams. They are doing some great work in muscle mechanics. In fact, I will be joining the team myself and I’ve been asked if there’s anyone else I’d recommend. I’d like to put your name forth if you’re interested.”
My heart leaps at the opportunity, and yet, I can’t help the sinking feeling I get whenever I think about leaving Cedar Brook Falls.
“Can I think on it?”
“Of course. Take a couple of weeks. The position doesn’t start until the fall, but they’ll be holding interviews throughout the summer.”
“Thank you, Professor Fox. I really appreciate you thinking of me.”
“My pleasure. I hope you do take us up on it. You’d be a great asset to the team.”
“Thank you.”
As I drive back to Cedar Brook Falls from the University, I try to think about moving away but every time I do, my heart races and sweat forms around my neck.
Not wanting to risk a panic attack on the road, I tell myself I’ll think about it later tonight when I’m holding my crystals and have some time to meditate on the idea.
I drive to Jane’s house for dinner. I promised her I would after my exam since I’ve basically hibernated these past couple of weeks studying, even though it was difficult to concentrate.
Charlotte’s car is there, too, and I see Charlie run across the hallway and upstairs to the bedrooms.
“Hello,” I call out as I hang up my book bag. “Anybody home?”
“We’re in here,” calls Jane from the kitchen.
Charlotte and Jane are sharing a glass of wine next to the island. Their heads are close together and it looks as though I’ve interrupted a private conversation.
I stare at them. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing,” says Charlotte a little too casually.
The days are growing warmer, and whatever Jane is cooking has turned the kitchen into a humid sauna, so I pull my hair up into a topknot. “Right,” I say to Charlotte then turn to look at the chef. “Jane?”
Jane sighs. “We were just talking about Casey.”
My heart ticks up but I clear my throat to act more casually than I feel. “Oh. Has he started training?”
“Um… no.”
“Why not? You said he was doing better. That he was ‘up and about’. I believe those were the words you used.” I had forced myself to focus on the fact that he was getting better and not that he hasn’t called me back and it’s been weeks.
Jane sets her wineglass on the counter. “Sage, I have to confess something.” Although, her voice is calm, it’s still foreboding.
“What is it?”
“We told you that because we didn’t want to distract you while you were studying.”
I blink and turn to Charlotte. She looks down at her wine glass.
“What do you mean? I thought Casey was back in L.A. Isn’t he working with a physical therapist?”
Jane shakes her head. “We don’t think so.”
“What do you mean you don’t think so?”
“He hasn’t responded to any of our texts or phone calls.”
Her words ignite a fire inside of me fueled by fear. “What?” I roar. “How do you even know he’s alive?”
Panic sets in as I curl my fingers into the palms of my hands and dig my nails into my flesh. The pain grounds me.
“Sage, please sit down. I can tell you’re upset, but he’s all right. Of course, we know he’s alive.”
I don’t move a finger. “How?”
“Austin’s mom sends food to his door through a delivery service, and it’s picked up. He’s reversed the charges so that he pays for it, but she confirms that they’re still delivering. So, we know he’s there and okay.”
I shake my head and pace the kitchen. “You know that he’s alive. You don’t know if he’s eating the food. Or if he is eating, does he go to his doctor’s appointments, is he taking care of his health?”
“Well, what are we supposed to do? We’ve tried everything.”
I don’t stop pacing. Not even when the oven timer goes off, not when Jane calls everyone to the table, nor when Austin asks me what’s wrong.
“I have to go to him.”
Jane sighs. “Sage, come sit down.”
When I ignore her and continue pacing, Charlotte walks over to me and puts her arms around me. “I know you really care about him. But he needs time.”
I shake my head. I thought so too, but now, I don’t think he does.
“He’s had a month, Char. I think something is wrong.”
“The doctors said it could take weeks or even months for his headaches to go away. Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s suffering more than we know.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But neither do you.”
“I’ve got to go.”
I inhale deeply and walk out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” hollers Jane.
“To Los Angeles.”
Austin pushes away from the table and chases after me.
“I’ll come with you.”
But I shake my head as I slip on my sandals. “No. Just me. If there’s too many of us, it may overwhelm him.”
“You can’t go all that way by yourself.”
I snort. “I’ve been doing things by myself for most of my adult life.”
The words are harsh, but I mean them as a reminder to myself and my friends.
I’ve been on my own for more than a decade, and while I appreciate everything my friends have done for me, I’ve always had to figure things out on my own.
And now I figure I need to see what’s going on with Casey because in my heart, something isn’t right.
“Let me get you a driver to the airport,” says Caleb.
But I’m already one foot out the door. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you every couple of hours to let you know that I’m okay, but I need to do this alone.”
“Be careful,” says Charlotte.
“I will.”
I drive back to my apartment to pack a small bag and book a very expensive last-minute flight to L.A.
The drive to the airport is about an hour. I spend most of the time scolding myself for not figuring this out sooner, not asking more specific questions of my friends, basically not doing more.
At the airport, I grab a coffee. I skipped dinner, but I’m not hungry.
“That’ll be $2.50, ma’am,” says the cashier. I tap my credit card on the machine and grab my coffee.
While waiting at the gate with a small bag and a small coffee, I put in my ear buds and press shuffle on my travel playlist. A song comes on and it immediately brings me back to road trips with my parents. I can hear my mother’s voice from the front seat singing along to “Big Yellow Taxi”.
“Hey, I didn’t know you liked the Counting Crows,” I say from the backseat. My little legs are dangling from the bench.
“I don’t,” says my mother. “But I do know Joni Mitchell and she’s the Canadian icon who wrote and sang this song first.”
I didn’t believe her, she often exaggerated, but she knew every word of the song.
I smile at the memory, and a shiver runs through my body.
I slept most of the plane ride, but I’m amazed that it’s nearly the same time that I left New York. When I arrive in L.A. with the three-hour difference, it’s as though time stood still while I was in the air.
It’s still past ten o’clock when I finally arrive at Casey’s apartment.
It’s cooler in Los Angeles than I expected.
Since it’s already warm in New York, I thought it would be scorching hot here, but it’s dark and late so perhaps that has something to do with it.
The taxi drops me off in front and I walk through the glass doors.
The building is ultra-modern with white granite countertops and marble floors. Even the concierge is wearing a suit and tie. “Excuse me, can you tell me which apartment is Casey Tucker’s?”
The security guard looks me up and down and I really wish I had changed out of my sandals for some high heels instead. I may have looked more like Casey’s type.
He checks something on his computer and turns back to me. “I’m sorry, but we do not have any guests marked down for Mr. Tucker this evening.”
“I know,” I say with my best smile, and flip my hair. “I’m here to surprise him.”
He smiles but then shoots me down. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s true. I’m a friend of his, and I want to surprise him.”
“I would suggest giving him a call and surprising him that way first. Then he can buzz you up.”
“Fine.” I sigh loudly. Even though he’s doing his job, the guard is making mine that much harder. I worry since Casey hasn’t been answering his phone to his family, he probably won’t answer my call either.
I punch in Casey’s number and look up to the ceiling, praying he’ll answer.
The phone rings six times, and hope starts to wane with each passing second.
I hang up and send him a text.
‘Hey, took a little trip and I ended up at your apartment, lol. Your security guard is acting weird and won’t buzz me up. Can you let him know that we’re cool?’
Surely, knowing that I’ve come all this way, he will ring me up. I stare at my phone waiting for his reply.
But there isn’t one. Not while I’m standing in the lobby, not when I sit down by the elevators. Not even when I walk back slowly to the front entrance. He hasn’t even read the message.
I look up the nearest hotel to Casey’s apartment and walk four blocks down the road to check in.
I came to L.A. in such a whirlwind that I’ve forgotten a few important things.
I’m so grateful that the hotel washroom has a toothbrush and toothpaste.
I quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, and fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.