42. Isaac
Chapter 42
Isaac
“ I think I need to grovel.” I begin speaking as soon as the ringing stops.
“Well, okay, then grovel.” Carmen’s voice, though sometimes brash, calms my anxious energy just enough. I rub my chest, trying to alleviate some of the ache, but it’s no use.
“She found the notes from Leo.” The door to my office slams closed behind me, and I collapse into my desk chair, pressing the phone to the side of my face so tightly that my skin begins to sweat.
The swelling around my eyes has diminished, mostly likely because Jo told me to put an ice pack on my face before we fell asleep. Something about a migraine trick, and she was right. I covered myself with a blanket on the living room floor, and stared up at the ceiling listening to her soft respiration until I drifted off into a restless and uncomfortable sleep.
There were no REM cycles to be had last night. And now I’m sitting in my office, counting down the minutes until I need to face Sam for the last time, and hoping that Jo will be there to hold my hand through it.
“Oof.” Carmen’s voice is smooth and unwavering. “What an eventful week.”
“I’m not screwing it up this time.” I slam my fist on the wood in front of me, startling even myself. “Sorry,” I speak directly to the plant I just disturbed with a desk earthquake. Jo brought this damn plant back from a farmer’s market and told me I needed it to liven up my apartment. Twelve years of looking barely alive enough to make it until tomorrow, yet since I’ve started the job here, this plant has thrived. I haven’t even watered it once. “I just hope I’m enough.” The statement is rhetorical, but it terrifies me to think that I could have ruined the one real thing in my life. The one person who I want to see all of me. I slump back in my chair.
“If there’s one thing that I know about Jo, it’s that words will only take you so far. You need to show her, Isaac.” Carmen is right. I can’t rely on words to clean up the mess I made. I will do everything in my power to show Jo how much she means to me.
Starting today.
“Thanks, Carm. I know how much it pains you to put up with me.” I huff a laugh, glancing out the window at the falling snow.
“I tolerate you because I have to. And I’m pretty sure I’m obligated to be nice to you today.” My chest warms at her words. Though they may not seem like much, I’ve convinced myself that this is how Carmen shows love. “And because, even though you’re a shithead and I fought it for twelve years, I think you’re the shithead for Jo.”
“I’ll see you later, Carm.”
“Bye, shithead.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and set it face up on the desk. I have three hours until Sam’s wake begins.
Am I disrespecting him thinking about Jo today?
Sam loved Jo. She even wrote his letter of recommendation for college admissions. He didn’t stop talking about it for weeks, even after we found out he would not, in fact, be going to college.
I pick up the phone once again, dialing Liam’s number. He answers on the first ring.
“Hey, are you still stopping at the grocery store on your way to the funeral home?” I say a silent prayer that I can make this happen for her.
“Yeah, I’m here, why?” Liam responds. A screaming child in the background reiterates his location.
“Can you grab a bunch of green onions?” He probably thinks I’m insane. “Please.”
“Need to feed your pet squirrel?” I love my brother, but his one-liners are worse than a single dad trying to earn a pity laugh from his teenage children.
“Yeah, Scrat is starving over here,” I sigh. “Just grab them please.” I stand from my chair, grabbing my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
“Alright fine, see you in a bit.”
The line goes dead as I push open the office door into the cool, dark hallway.
Emotions that I’ve tamped down over the course of the last week start to brew in my stomach as I pull my car into the already-crowded lot of the funeral home. I catch a glimpse of Liam’s car, and pull into the spot next to it.
Shifting the car to park, I glance up at the rear-view mirror. My eyes are bloodshot and puffy.
I guess that’s to be expected on the day of your little brother’s visitation.
“Give me some of your strength,” I whisper to Sam, hoping for some sort of sign that he’s with me. A pang of guilt hits me square in the chest when I think of the life that Sam misses out on.
It’s not fair.
None of it is fair.
A knock at the window startles me out of my thoughts. Jo and Chloe stand outside my door, bundled in thick winter coats. I blow out a breath and turn off the engine, pushing open the door.
A blast of cold air hits my face, bringing me back to the present.
“Hi,” Jo’s eyes are already rimmed with tears.
“Put your gloves on.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can think better of them. Jo rolls her eyes and grabs Chloe’s arm, pulling her towards the entrance doors to the building. I follow, silently berating myself for my lack of tact.
Rushing ahead, I grab the handle of the large wooden door and pull it open, watching as Jo and Chloe make their way inside. A low murmur of voices surrounds us.
“Isaac.” Dad’s voice greets me from the left, and I turn to find him and Liam standing with to-go coffees in their hands.
It’s going to be a long night.
“Here.” Liam extends his second cup towards me. “Your stuff is in the family-room fridge.”
Taking the extra coffee from Liam’s hand, I’m quickly stolen by a group of younger cousins whom I haven’t seen in years. I half listen as they recount childhood memories of Sam. Our summer trips to the beach in South Carolina. The summer we found out Sam was sick again.
My stomach starts to turn over more and more with each memory. I stare at the ornate wood of the casket where it sits propped at the front of the room, covered in elaborate arrangements of florals. I can just see Sam rolling his eyes at the display. He’d rather have a Star Wars lego set, the Millennium Falcon or the Death Star, set up next to him. I’m certain of it.
The door to the family room opens, leaving a trail of light, and I catch a glimpse of Jo. She’s got a white paper cup in her hands, presumably more to keep them warm than to drink. The tag from her tea bag blows around the cup with the movement of people around her.
Sensing my gaze on her, she looks up, finding my eyes with hers. She’s removed her coat to reveal a long-sleeve black dress. The same dress she wore to Leo’s funeral.
Here I am only thinking about my emotions when this must be incredibly difficult for her. I search her face for some tell, some indication of how she’s feeling in this moment, but she just smiles gently, tipping her chin to me.
She’s so beautiful.
I shrug out of my coat, resting it on the top of an armchair next to me. “Excuse me, guys,” I say to my cousins, who all briefly nod and relay their understanding, still chattering away about our teenage mischief.
I make my way across the room towards her in a few long strides. The closer I get, the more I can make out the dark circles under her eyes and tear marks down her cheeks.
“Where’s Chloe?” I ask as I reach her, glancing around the room. I spot her standing next to Liam and Dad, laughing wholeheartedly at something Liam just said.
“She’s been over there for a while now. Liam better watch out,” Jo jokes, taking a sip from her tea.
“Thank you for being here,” I respond. “It means a lot to me.” I look down at my shoes, not sure how to completely express my gratitude. “And Dad and Liam.”
“I loved Sam.” She takes a step closer to me, hooking her arm through mine. “He would hate those flowers though.” She looks up at me and sticks her free hand into the pocket of her dress, pulling out two small Lego minifigures. Tiny Han Solo and Princess Leia lay flat in her palm staring up at me.
“Jo.”
“You don’t even want to know what I went through to get these.” She laughs quietly, shaking her head. We both look down at the figures in her hand, and I try to blink away tears, but it’s a useless attempt.
“Jo,” I repeat. Words communicate so little of the overwhelming sensation in my chest.
“I think Sam deserves to take some friends with him. Don’t you?” She squeezes my arm against her, diverting her attention from me to the casket. I swallow, a sudden massive rock lodged in the back of my throat. She extends her open hand of figurines towards me, gesturing for me to take them to Sam.
I might throw up.
“I don’t know if I’m ready.” My heart beat kicks up when her hand finds mine, palm to palm.
“Okay, it’s no rush, Isaac.” Her tone is comforting. Exactly what I need right now.
“Come with me,” I blurt out, squeezing her hand tightly in mine. “Please.”
“Are you sure? He’s your brother and I just—” I stop her by bringing her hand up to my chest.
“Please.”
She nods, her lips quivering. “Okay.”
“Okay.”