56. Jo
Chapter 56
Jo
T he wind whips frigid air against our faces as Carmen and I power walk across campus towards Happy’s Pizza. This week is nothing a little mozzarella therapy can’t handle.
“So you’re telling me you guys danced in the living room, decorated the tree, and then fell asleep fully clothed while spooning? ”
“Well, when you say it like that...” I throw open the door to the smells of oregano and pepperoni. “You make it sound childish.”
Carmen follows closely behind into the barren restaurant. It’s 11 a.m. on a Campustown Sunday, meaning everyone is either studying for finals or so hungover they won’t leave their bed today.
“It sounds like your literal wet dream, Jo,” she responds.
“I need a whole pizza, stat.”
A server blasts through the swinging door behind the merchant counter balancing a steaming, thin crust pizza in each hand.
“I feel like we need to evaluate some of these avoidant emotions you’re displaying.” Carmen’s eyes follow the server to a table across the restaurant, where two elderly women sit in quiet conversation and laughter. I hope that’s Carmen and I one day, satiated with life and scarfing down a pizza each on a Sunday in December.
The server turns and beelines towards us. He’s on a mission, and I better figure out what I want on my pizza before he leaves me in the dust. Wait, who am I kidding?
“Medium thin crust with mushroom and black olives, please,” I respond when he asks for my order. It’s the same every time, and has been for twenty years. I’m nothing if not a creature of habit.
Carmen gives her order to the gentleman with the notepad, and I furrow my brow at her. “I’m sorry, anchovies? Are you feverish?”
“Okay, so I need you to not freak out.”
She’s known me for how many years and doesn’t know that that’s the exact opposite of how she should get me to not freak out?
“I applied for a traveling fellowship, and I may be going to London after the holidays.”
“You may be? Or you are?”
She fiddles with the zipper on her black winter coat. “I am. I got the fellowship.”
“Oh my God, oh my God!” I slap my hands down on the polyurethaned wood between us. “Okay, I need to hear all about it!”
Our pizzas arrive just minutes later alongside an extra order of curly fries and a soda each. Carmen shocks me with all the gritty details of her orthopedic surgery and sports medicine fellowship.
“It’s only four weeks.” She takes a bite of pizza, and drops her crust back down onto her plate, rubbing her fingers together to rid them of crumbs. “So that puts me back in the States just before the soccer season starts.”
“And then you’re gonna get the job with Gateway and everything is gonna be perfect.” I make eye contact with our server behind the register, and he immediately appears at the side of our table with a refill of my drink.
This place has gotten significantly more efficient since we were in school.
“Now why can’t you be so optimistic about your life,” Carmen adds as I take a gulp of soda.
“Well you are simply perfect, and I am a garbage gremlin.”
She launches the paper wrapping from her straw at me and it bounces off my forehead. “I wish you would shut up sometimes.”
I mime an imaginary lock and throw away the key, and Carmen’s expression turns unimpressed by my attitude.
“We need to talk about Isaac,” she reiterates. I’d hoped she would forget, but I knew better. My heart is bursting with the need to talk about every minuscule detail.
Every look.
Every touch.
Every heart flutter.
But for some reason, I’m embarrassed.
Isaac has let me down so many times before, but if I’m honest, I let him down just the same. What’s to say this time is any different than any of the last?
“Why waste our perfectly good lunch?” I pick up the last piece of pizza on my plate and examine the toppings.
“You talk things out, Jo. And you haven’t been talking anything out this time. And honestly, it’s freaking me the fuck out,” Carmen admits.
The check gets dropped off at the table, and we both reach for it. Carmen beats me. She continues berating me as she reaches for her wallet in the pocket of her coat.
“You need to figure this out,” she replies, setting her credit card down on top of the bill. “Isaac thinks you guys are together now. So are you?”
I shrug, throwing my crossbody bag over my shoulder. I would like to escape this.
“You cannot escape me, Jo.”
Dammit.
The server collects our payment, and Carmen stares at me. I’m fairly certain she hasn’t blinked in at least five minutes.
“I’m scared, okay?” I admit, mostly to get this bitch to blink. She needs those corneas.
“I mean, fair. He’s been an absolute twat-waffle.” Carmen replies, and I snort a laugh. That’s one way to put it.
“This is gonna sound like the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but I think I’m still hung up on the fact that he didn’t show up to Dad’s wake.” I hesitate while the server returns Carmen’s credit card and receipt. He walks away with a smile and a nod. “Dad really did like Isaac.”
Carmen clears her throat loudly, pushing herself out of the booth with a groan.
“C’mon kid, there’s something I need to show you.”
Carmen grabs the keys out of my hand and has my apartment door unlocked before I can even get up the stairs. Charlie greets us with an excited tail wag and a half-hearted howl.
“Okay, okay, I’ll feed you,” I smile, crouching down to pat her head.
I head to the kitchen to fill her bowl with food and water as Carmen situates herself on the floor in front of my TV stand. She opens the door and pulls out my pile of old photo albums and miscellaneous binders.
“What are you looking for?” I ask, as the sound of Charlie’s kibble hitting her metal bowl fills the kitchen. “I’m sure I can help you find whatever it is.”
“Yeah, you and all your doom piles are really organized.”
“Oh, shut up.”
“Ah!” Carmen pulls out the one book I shoved as far back in the cabinet as I could get it.
“C’mon Carmen, I don’t wanna do this.” She stands from the floor with Leo’s brown leather-bound funeral guest book in hand. She sets the book on the kitchen counter and pulls off her jacket. Charlie attacks her bowl, dropping more pieces of kibble on the ground than make it into her mouth.
“I normally would not make you, but I think this is important right now.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket with a text message, but I ignore it, trying to decipher the meaning behind Carmen’s sudden cryptic mission.
She sits down on the barstool and flips open the front cover, running the tips of her fingers over the photo of Dad and his favorite muscle car.
“You got any alcohol?” she asks, turning the book all the way to the back cover. I nod, turning to yank open the fridge and pulling out a six-pack of Blue Moon. “I have a feeling we’re gonna need some chocolate too.”
“Can you just tell me what the problem is?” I twist the top on a beer and set it to the side of where Carmen sits, just far enough away that she won’t accidentally knock it over.
As much as I try to keep this part of my story closed up, I would be devastated if anything happened to this book.
She hums in satisfaction when she reaches the last page scribbled with blue ink, and turns the book around to face me.
My stomach plummets when I see the handwriting.
Jo
Words simply can’t express the ache that I feel in my heart for you and your family, both today and for the rest of my life. The interactions I had with your dad were far too fleeting, but the impact he had is unmeasurable. You may think he’s gone, but I know you will go out into the world carrying his legacy and character and joy. You are a direct reflection of the man he was. I hope one day I have a daughter that loves and admires me as much as you do your dad. I have always and will always love you.
Maybe one day you will love me too,
Isaac
“You knew he did this.” My eyes leave the page and meet her gaze. She nods. “You knew he was there.”
She nods again.
“You knew he was there and you’ve kept it a secret for over two years.”
I slam the book closed and open my beer, downing nearly half in just a few gulps.
Carmen stands suddenly, grabbing the book and walking it back to the cabinet where it will continue to live, hidden away from daily view.
“What am I supposed to do with this information?” I ask, but I already know. So much of my brain has been caught on the simple fact that he didn’t say goodbye to Dad. That he didn’t show up for me that day.
But he did. And so much more.
Maybe one day you will love me too
The last line of his heartfelt, handwritten note plays over and over in my brain.
Today is that day.