Chapter 4
four
After taking a few minutes to pull myself together and making a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up my raccoon eyes, thanks to my not-so-waterproof mascara, I slowly walk up to the nurses’ station with a tight grip on my purse, like it will somehow anchor me.
I regret not changing out of my work clothes before leaving Chicago.
Nothing like wearing black slacks, a cashmere sweater, and three-inch heels to make you feel even more out of place and uncomfortable in a hospital.
“Excuse me,” I ask the nurse I spoke to earlier.
“Is it possible for me to get my mom’s personal belongings?
And Judy’s?” My attempt to sound confident is subpar, but I can’t call Jake without Judy’s phone.
I deleted his number when he went a year without speaking to me, and I highly doubt he’s got the same number, anyway.
I’m not sure they can legally give me Judy’s items, but it’s a small town.
If they’re expecting me to tell Jake the news, then they’ll have to make an exception.
“What’s the name again?” the nurse asks without looking up from her computer.
“Deborah Carpenter and Judy Caldwell. They were brought in via ambulance. My mom is in ICU, and Judy didn’t make it.
The doctor…” What was his name again? I’m sure he told me, not that I remember.
Who wants to remember the name of the person who turned your life upside down with only a few words?
“I’m considered next of kin since no one could reach Judy’s son.
I assume that means I can have access to her belongings.
Having her phone will make it easier for me to get in touch with him. ”
“Oh…I’m so sorry,” the nurse says, finally looking at me with sympathy in her deep brown eyes.
Probably should get used to people staring at me pitifully.
I have a feeling everyone in town will look at my mom and me that way when they hear the news.
Word travels fast in a small town. “I didn’t realize Judy had died.
I’ll find their belongings and get you the paperwork to sign.
Do you want to take a seat in the waiting room while I locate everything? It may take a few minutes.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather wait in the private room where I spoke with the doctor. If that’s okay.”
“Of course. And I’m really sorry,” she adds, misty-eyed. “Everyone in town knows your mom and Judy and how close your families are.”
I nod and thank her again before returning to the small, cold conference room, my dread growing as I walk.
I’m one step closer to calling Jake. My brain is in a fog, running a million miles a minute.
It’s a weird combination. Almost like my mind is rebelling because it doesn’t want to accept the truth or share the news with Jake.
Who would? I’d be tempted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation if it weren’t so heartbreaking.
I want Brian here. Not that he would know what to say, or how to deal with this situation.
His family life is the complete opposite of mine.
Being raised by a single mom in a small town is about as different as you can get from his Norman Rockwell picture-perfect parents and siblings.
His family lives in a lavish Chicago suburb, takes annual family vacations, spends every holiday together, and talks daily via group chats.
And they’ve mostly welcomed me with open arms. There are moments when I still feel like an outsider at his family gatherings, and his mom has made an occasional snide comment, insinuating I’m not good enough for her son, but I try not to let it bother me.
Things will change once we’re married. My place in their lives will become more permanent. I’ll get added to their group chat. Go from having a family of me and my mom to being part of a massive extended Italian family.
The nurse enters the room and stands next to me with two clear bags of clothing and other items. She hands me the paperwork to sign.
I quickly scribble my signature on the forms and hand them back without saying a word.
She gives me a brief, solemn nod before exiting the room and quietly closing the door behind her.
It’s obvious which bag belongs to Judy; her bright pink handbag is unmistakable.
My mom would never use a purse that wasn’t black or brown.
Navy might even be a stretch. Judy’s style was one of the many things I envied about her.
She didn’t care what anyone thought. Always did what she wanted, when she wanted. Just like Jake.
Fuck. I can’t put off calling him, even though I’m clearly the last person he ever wants to talk to. The last fifteen years have proven that.
I force myself to open the bag containing Judy’s belongings and immediately tense when I see bloodstains on her torn clothes and the outside of her purse.
An image likely to be burned in my brain forever.
Steeling my nerves, I reach into her purse, trying to locate her phone without looking at the other contents.
When I don’t feel it right away, I start to panic, worrying her phone isn’t there, that it’s lost somewhere in the mangled car.
Thankfully, my hand brushes against the case before my mind fully spirals.
Shit. There’s a passcode.
What could it be?
Her birthday? Jake’s birthday? Her wedding anniversary?
I rack my brain, thinking through way too many combinations before deciding to try one. What’s the worst that could happen? It locks me out after too many failed attempts. Oh God… What if the only way to unlock her phone is via Face ID? Would that mean I have to go to the morgue to unlock it?
I need to get my shit together.
Stop fucking spiraling.
Pick a six-digit number.
Try it. It’ll be fine.
With the phone in my hand, I type in Judy’s birthday and take a deep breath, praying it works.
No dice. Fuck.
Maybe her passcode is the same as my mom’s. Simple 123456.
Nope. Shit.
Ugh. It’s probably Jake’s birthday. A date I wish I could forget, but probably never will.
It’s embedded in my memory. I type in 032790, instinctively knowing it’s the right combination before the phone unlocks, displaying a background of Jake as a kid, hanging off the monkey bars, likely taken at the park a few blocks from our houses.
I was probably with them that day. We were always together.
It seems like a lifetime ago. A different person’s life.
Shaking my head, I tap on her phone icon and see Jake at the top of her favorites, along with my mom, me, and the local pizza place.
Didn’t expect that one. Although ordering pizza on Fridays was her go-to unless it was football season.
We spent countless Friday nights huddled under a blanket, cheering on Jake while he effortlessly moved his team down the field as quarterback.
He was something to watch. One of the many reasons everyone in town knows who he is.
He became a football legend after leading the team to a sectional win as a sophomore, repeating it for the next two years.
People still talk about those glory days like it was just yesterday, not almost twenty years ago.
Stop procrastinating and dial, damn it.
I tap on Jake’s name and force myself to inhale deeply.
Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up.
The phone rings and rings before it finally goes to voicemail. I panic, realizing I don’t know what to say.
Why isn’t he answering a call from his mom?
“Hey, Jake. It’s um… It’s Kate. Your mom was in a serious accident. Call me back right away.” I attempt to keep my tone calm, hoping he can’t sense the devastation in my voice.
What do I do now? Wait for him to call? I’m still waiting for him to respond to my messages from fifteen years ago.
My only other option is to send a text. Further convey the urgency. My fingers race over the keyboard, reiterating what I said in the voicemail. He hasn’t responded to his mom’s last three texts, and my anxiety level increases.
What if he’s unreachable? I know his mom has struggled to get hold of him in the past due to his travel schedule and odd work hours. This better not be one of those times. I don’t have the patience for it. I need to get this news off my chest as quickly as possible.
It’s probably just Jake being Jake. He’s never been super reliable.
In our freshman year of college, he made a big deal about how he doesn’t respond to texts unless a question is asked.
He suggested I ask a question if I wanted a response from him.
Otherwise, I should assume he saw it. We argued for hours about proper etiquette before I gave up.
He better not pull that shit with me today.
How is he already making me angry when he’s not even here?
He’s so goddamn infuriating. After all these years, nothing has changed.
Except me. I’m not the same girl I was when he left and ended our friendship.