35. Luke
LUKE
They release Danny in the morning.
I push him out of the room in a wheelchair, his ribs reminding him they're bruised every time he breathes. Jen has his bag over one shoulder and Penelope on her hip. Brian is running ahead of everyone down the hospital corridor.
"Brian." Jen yells. "Fucking hell."
Brian stops. Turns around. Walks back. Falls in beside his father like he's been doing it his whole life.
"Brian." Danny yells.
"I got him," Jen says.
He lets it go.
I take the bag from her anyway. She doesn't argue.
The hotel is thirty minutes from the hospital. Jen has both kids in the back seat. Penelope is making a sound that isn't quite crying but is working its way there. Danny has his eyes closed and his head against the window.
"Can I go to the pool?" Brian says.
"Brian," Danny says without opening his eyes.
"What? I'm just asking."
"Your father just got out of the hospital," Jen says. "Maybe."
We get to the hotel. Two rooms side by side, connecting door.
Jen walks Penelope in slow circles around the room, bouncing slightly, her face the particular blank of a woman who has done this ten thousand times.
Danny lowers himself onto the couch with immense dignity and a sharp intake of breath he tries to hide.
"Stop," he says.
"I didn't say anything," I say.
"You were about to."
"I was going to ask if you wanted water."
"Oh." A beat. "Yeah."
I get him water.
Jen gets him his pills from the bag without being asked. He takes them without comment. Penelope is still going. Brian has found a cartoon and has the volume too high and doesn't respond the first two times Jen asks him to turn it down.
"Brian."
"What?"
"The volume."
"I can’t hear it,” Brian says.
"The people in the next room can hear it."
"How do you know?"
"Brian. The volume."
He turns it down two notches. Jen looks at me.
Somewhere in the middle of all of it Danny falls asleep sitting up. Just goes. One minute he's there and the next his head drops and he's out, chin on his chest, breathing carefully around the ribs.
Jen looks at him. Something moves across her face that she smooths over quickly.
She keeps walking Penelope.
Slowly, the room settles. Penelope's eyes get heavy. Her grip on Jen's shirt loosens. Brian slides sideways on the bed, still watching the cartoon, and then tips slowly until his head lands on Danny's arm. Danny doesn't wake up. Brian's out too — one sock on, mouth open, remote still in his hand.
Jen lowers Penelope onto the other bed. Stands there for a moment making sure she stays down.
She does.
Jen exhales.
She looks around the room. Danny asleep on the couch. Both kids out. The cartoon still playing silently, Brian having hit the mute button in his sleep somehow.
She sits down across from me.
"Tell me about Anna," she says. Quiet. Not a question exactly.
I look at my hands.
"She's in Montana."
"And what's the plan?" She waits.
"She needs time to think."
Jen nods slowly. Like she already knew. Or suspected.
"Why did she go there?" I say.
"She wanted to go to Montana."
I look at Danny asleep on the couch. At Brian with the remote in his hand. At Penelope with one sock on.
"I asked her to come here."
Jen is quiet for a moment.
"You asked Anna to come to Morocco, and she said no?"
"I did."
"Huh."
"What, huh?"
"Do you want her to come?"
"I do." My eyes well up. I look away. "I want her here."
"Then make her come."
"Make her?"
"Yeah."
"How do I do that?"
"I don't know. Call her. Beg her. Make her. Figure that shit out."
I watch her holding Penelope.
She gets up and goes to check on Danny.
I sit there for a while longer.
Then I go back to my room.
I call Anna from the hotel phone.
She picks up on the second ring.
"Hey," she says. Careful.
"Hey." I lean forward, elbows on my knees. "How are you?"
"I'm okay. How's Danny?"
"Good. Just checked him out. He's at the hotel with Jen and the kids."
"Good. I'm glad he's okay."
A beat.
"Anna."
"Luke—"
"Just listen. Please."
She's quiet.
"I need you to come here. Come to Morocco. I'll send you a ticket tonight."
"Luke—"
"I mean it. I want you here. I want you with me."
"I can't."
"You can. Anna, I should have said this before. I love you."
"Luke." Her voice is even. "I'm not coming."
"Anna."
"I'm working. I'm with my mom. I can't just leave my job after a few days."
"I miss you."
Silence.
"I miss you," I say again. "I need you."
A long pause.
"Luke, we'll talk about what to do when you finish the movie."
"No, I don't want to wait."
"I'm hanging up. I don't want to do this. I can't do this," she says. I can hear the tears. "You hurt me."
"I know I did. I?—"
"We have different lives now and we want different things. Goodbye."
She hangs up.
I sit there.
I call back.
Four rings.
Voicemail.
I call again.
Voicemail.
I set the phone down.
I set the phone down.
For a while, I just stare at it.
The screen goes black.
I pick it up again. Not to call. Just to hold it. Like there’s still some heat from her voice trapped inside the glass.
There isn’t.
The room is too quiet. Hotel quiet. Expensive sheets. Thick walls. Someone else’s furniture. A view I haven’t looked at once since I got here.
I sit on the edge of the bed with the phone in both hands, my elbows on my knees, and I try to breathe like a normal person.
In.
Out.
It catches halfway.
I stand up too fast. The room tilts. I walk to the window. Morocco is thousands of miles from her.
I go to the bathroom.
I grab the edge of the sink with both hands and fold over, my forehead pressed against the cold porcelain. My whole body shaking. I try to stop it. Try to swallow it down. Try to be me.
I drag a breath in, and it turns into another broken sound. My chest hurts. My throat burns.
I see her in my kitchen, barefoot, stealing coffee from my mug.
I see her asleep in my bed, one hand tucked under her cheek.
Another sound tears out of me, deeper this time, from somewhere I’ve kept locked so long I forgot it was there.
My hands lose the sink.
I hit the bathroom floor on my side, hard, one shoulder against the tile, my knees pulled in like I’m trying to make myself smaller.
It goes on.