49. 49
Ihold the phone close to my ear and look out over the backs of my middle school students. My class size has more than doubled with the building, with the space that I have, and with my big fat name on the front.
The kids are working, I’ve given the majority of my instructions, and I couldn’t stop myself when my phone came up with a Los Angeles area code. I had to answer.
“Hello?” I wait for Delaney’s voice—but it doesn’t come.
“Miles Bailey?” The woman on the other end says my name as if there is acid in her throat, as if my name burns her lips and tongue.
“Ah, yeah?”
“You did make a deal with my daughter, correct?”
Claire Jones. It has to be.
“A deal?” I don’t know what this woman knows. Sure, I’ve spilled my truth to Coco. But Delaney was so sure we shouldn’t tell anyone. And I can’t imagine her telling this woman.
“Yes. Yes. I know all about your arrangement with Delaney.” She sighs so loudly, as if making sure I hear it on my end. “I can’t say I approve. But it has a purpose, does it not?”
Okay—maybe she did tell her.
I clear my throat. “Ah, yes. It does. But Mrs. Jones, you need to know I have real feelings for your daughter. I—”
“Of course you do.” Her tone is condescending. She has a voice for every negative emotion in Pandora’s box. “And it’s Ms. Jones. Besides, if your feelings are as real as you say, why not come to L.A. and do exactly as she needs?”
“Ahh—” I have no idea what she’s talking about. “She hasn’t asked me to come.”
“Right. That’s because while Delaney is beautiful and talented, she’s also as slow as her father when it comes to any common sense. She has no desire to take you away from your—work.” She sighs once more. “However, you did make a deal. And I feel as though you should keep your end of that bargain. Don’t you?”
“She needs me there?”
Why wouldn’t she tell me? I’ve every intention to help how I can. That was our deal. My feelings about her don’t change that I promised to help. If anything, they make me want to help more.
“Ew,” Claire says. “I’d rather not be as dramatic as that, but yes, she needs you. If it helps, I’ll add the word desperately.”
The only reason I am able to buy a plane ticket to California is because I’ve sold every painting I have on hand in the last three weeks. Who knows how many to my wife?
Still, I bought the ticket, with Claire Jones’ address burning a hole in my pocket.
I’m anxious the entire flight. How can I not be? I spoke to Claire, not Delaney.
We land and I pull along my carry-on filled with clothes that I hope will work for L.A, and whatever it is Delaney needs me for. I can’t imagine what—
But at this point, I’m invested, and I’ll do it.
Claire said she’d know when my plane would land and she would be the one to let Delaney know that I’ve arrived, but not before. She’s certain Delaney would tell me to stay in Coeur d’Alene. And she might. But if she needs me—then I want to be here.
While I haven’t known Delaney long, I do know that she and her mother have… issues. So, I wait until I’m in California, but I don’t wait for Claire to call Delaney.
I exit the airport and order an Uber. And then, I call my wife.
It goes to voicemail, though. She’s probably working. So, I leave her a message, sounding like the bumbling idiot I am. “Hey babe—whoa. Sorry, I don’t know where that came from. Um, I don’t even know if you’d be okay being called babe.” I clear my throat and wish I could somehow delete and start over. “Anyway, I—” But her mailbox cuts me off.
“Crap,” I mutter, peering down at my cell. “This is dumb. I’ll just text.”
My ride pulls up—a white Chevy—and I hop into the back, thankful my driver confirms who I am and then leaves me be. His efforts are on the road, leaving me to focus.
Me: Hey, you there?
I bounce my knee, knocking it against the passenger seat of the Cruze. Why am I so nervous? I haven’t seen Delaney in six days. But we’ve talked. What could change in six days?
It’s the wrong thing to ask myself. Six days is pretty much a quarter of our marriage. It took less than six days for me to start falling for Delaney.
A lotcan change in six days.
My nerves are shot, and with the thought, I dial her number once more.
Voicemail again.
Great.
“Delaney, hey. Sorry for that last message. I don’t know why I called you babe. Forget I said it. Umm… so, I’m calling because we need to talk.” And then I promptly hang up. “Need to talk,” I say to myself. “That sounds like I’m breaking up with her.”
“Man,” my driver says, his accent thick. He peeks in the rearview mirror at me. “You having girl trouble?”
“No, no trouble,” I say, hoping he’ll just ignore me.
I call—again. Because why not at this point? I’m in a hole, digging, and the hole is only getting deeper. There’s no way out. I might as well keep going down.
“Weird, we keep getting cut off,” I lie into the phone. “If you can, call me. If not, no biggie.” I hang up and press one hand to my forehead. “No biggie? Who says that?”
“Okay, what is happening back there?” my driver, Ahmed, asks.
“Just trying to tell my wife I’m in town.”
“She doesn’t know?”
“Ah, nope.” I swallow and peer down at my phone—I’m pretty sure it’s the devil at this point.
Ahmed whistles. “Are you catching her in the act? Why so sneaky?”
“I’m not being sneaky. No act. She hasn’t done anything wrong. Neither have I, to be clear. She just needs help and won’t ask. So her mom told me to come.” I swallow, but my throat has gone dry.
“How long you been married, man?”
“Four weeks.”
At this, Ahmed laughs. But I don’t see what’s funny. How is four weeks funny? It’s just a fact.
“Okay. Okay. Okay,” he gets out through more laughter. He makes a right turn and his GPS tells us we’ve only got ten minutes until I arrive at Claire’s. Ahmed glances back again. He lifts one finger and says, “Short, sweet, and to the point. None of this chatty chatty. Okay?”
“Right. Okay.” I nod, heart thumping as if I’m in the ring about to fight Mike Tyson rather than leave a simple voicemail for my girl. I hit call and wait for Delaney’s automated message to play. “Laney,” I say. “I’m in town. Headed to your mother’s house. See you there.” I pull the phone from my ear, but just before I hit end, I call out, “Here to help! Just here to help, babe!”
Ahmed blows out a tired breath. “We almost made it.”