Chapter 18
The following morning, Helena was cleared to go home.
Dr. Marsh was square with her about what she needed to do to “keep herself healthy while the search for a liver continues.” He told her exactly what to eat, exactly what not to do, and exactly what to hope for.
There was nothing in what he said that made Helena think that she wouldn’t get a liver transplant, which seemed insane.
She’d never assumed that would happen. Was he living in a delusional world?
Before Helena left the hospital, she decided to visit Dr. Bethany Sutton and thank her for her kind words.
Bethany had given her the number last night and told her to come by any time, as she’d be “very bored.” But when Helena reached Bethany’s room, the door was closed, and one of the nurses came by, pressed her finger to her lips, and told Helena that Bethany needed to rest. “She can’t slow down, so we’re trying to force her,” she said.
Helena was overwhelmed with sorrow for her new friend. “She shouldn’t have come to my room last night,” Helena mumbled, worried. What if Bethany lost her baby, all because she cared too much about the rest of the world?
Helena called a cab to take her back home.
It was just as she’d left it before Elliott had called and ripped her out of herself, with her paintings and paints on the patio, a few dishes in the sink, and a glass of nonalcoholic champagne fully flat on the counter.
She’d taken to finding ways to celebrate her minor and major painting successes in any way she could.
Nonalcoholic champagne, strawberries, crepes, and squares of chocolate were her favorite modes.
Now, although it was only ten in the morning, she clunked off a square of chocolate from a larger package and sat on the patio in the sunshine, thinking about Matteo.
What Bethany had said about letting Matteo make his own choices rang in her head.
It was true that Matteo was an adult man with adult sensibilities.
And he’d told her in his note that if she wanted to, they could remain friends.
He just wanted to connect with her. Wasn’t that beautiful?
Before she knew what she was doing, Helena pulled up Matteo’s phone number and called him. She could hardly breathe. When he answered, “Hello?” she got to her feet, then felt a rush of dizziness that brought her back down again. For a moment, she forgot how she was supposed to answer.
“Hi,” she said. “It’s, um. It’s Helena.”
“Helena! It’s great to hear from you,” he said. His voice was tender and warm.
“Thank you for the flowers,” Helena said. “They were gorgeous.”
“I felt a little creepy leaving flowers on your dock like that,” Matteo said. “I’ve been overthinking it, to say the least. I mean, that’s the second time I trespassed on your property. I can’t make a habit of that.”
“You shouldn’t overthink it,” she said. “I loved them. It was very sweet.”
Matteo was quiet for a moment. Helena could hear the rush of the ocean on the other end of the line and wondered if he was somewhere on his boat.
She could picture him, sturdy and strong, wielding the ropes and the sails.
She wondered if she’d already called too late, then remembered there was nothing “too late” about the friendship she wanted to have.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get together,” she said.
“Very much,” Matteo said. “I’ll be in Nantucket tomorrow, actually. I’m sailing around but planning to tie up at the port tomorrow afternoon.”
“Beautiful,” she said.
“We could grab dinner?” Matteo suggested. “I’ll be starving after a long day at sea.”
Helena said she’d arrange for something and text him the details. When she hung up, her heart hammered in her chest, demanding if she was making a big mistake.
But how could all these beautiful emotions be mistakes?
Helena painted for a little while, then went inside to rest and recoup.
While posting a few social media updates about her painting career, she accidentally saw a post from Meg that insinuated things between her and Elliott weren’t exactly peachy.
Helena felt a strange sorrow and a kinship with Meg, but one she didn’t want to delve into.
She blocked all posts for Meg and Elliott, reminding herself that sometimes in life, you had to create your own peace.
Helena reserved a table for two at a moderately swanky restaurant in the old historic district of Nantucket.
It had been a long time since she’d dressed up to see a man.
She considered this as she went through her limited closet, a closet that she’d made to be utilitarian, as she’d been more or less a hermit for many years.
With nothing to wear and no real makeup to work with, she decided to head to the historic district early to find something.
Before she left, she took some of the medication prescribed by Dr. Marsh, which was meant to keep her more stable through the day. “No more fainting spells,” Dr. Marsh had told her yesterday. “Or fewer fainting spells at the very least.”
It was more than Helena could hope for.
Helena researched online before her trip to find a place to park her Chevy.
It was her first time visiting the historic district, but she knew it would be swarming with tourists and difficult to gauge.
En route, she listened to the radio, singing songs that reminded her of being thirteen again, thirteen and in love with a boy named Elliott.
How could she have known what kind of man Elliott would turn out to be?
Life was a series of mistakes and consequences and rebounds. Life was beautiful and messy.
For a little while, Helena tried on dresses at a boutique not far from the restaurant.
Although she was used to avoiding mirrors, she trained her eye on her reflection, shifting to-and-fro to see her tan legs, her long arms, her waist. It wasn’t possible that she’d gained any real weight, but she’d gained a bit of muscle, incredibly, and she wore it well.
At the makeup store, the woman behind the counter helped Helena pick out a blush and a lipstick that suited her coloring.
Helena caught herself telling the woman she had a date tonight, although she knew better than to call it that.
But the woman gushed with understanding and excitement for her.
“You’re going to floor him with this blush,” she said.
“Men don’t usually notice makeup. It’s more about the aura you project.
It won’t look fake. It’ll just make you look…
” Her eyes widened. “Healthy. Vibrant. Romantic!”
Helena couldn’t recall having looked that way for a very long time.
“I’ll take all of them,” she said, thinking of her bank account, of all the money she’d never be able to spend.
Helena was surprised to find that Matteo was already at the restaurant when she arrived.
He stood, wearing a white button-down and a pair of slacks.
His hair was styled and gelled. He looked so handsome, like an Italian movie star.
Helena walked through the packed veranda to stand before him.
Was it her imagination, or did he look nervous?
“You look incredible,” he said.
She forced herself to look him in the eye and say, “You do, too.”
Matteo was quiet. He put his large hands on the table between them.
Helena thought, Just tell him about your disease now. Get it over with. Tell him, and then he can decide if he wants to stay at the restaurant with you. He can decide if he wants to build a friendship with you. Let him decide!
But instead, she said, “I’ve never eaten here before, but I read really good reviews.”
Together, they scoured the menu, deciding on two seafood dishes that they’d share.
Helena ordered herself a glass of alcohol-free wine, and Matteo opted for a large beer, saying, “I need it after today. The wind was howling, and I was a little afraid out there. It was nothing like it was the day I crashed into your dock, but…” He raised his glass. “To you.”
Helena blushed and clinked hers with his. She didn’t know if she had the emotional strength to get through this. She had half a mind to run to the bathroom and call Bethany for emotional support.
For a little while, they talked about simple things.
Matteo had had a funny summer of sailing and working online.
“I wanted more freedom in my life, and sometimes I think I gave myself too much freedom. But I’m learning how to balance it.
” He laughed. “I can’t believe I live on the mainland, though.
The more time I spend in Nantucket, the more I want to move here. ”
Helena’s heart pumped. She told him about her summer, how she’d gotten back into painting and had begun to sell her work.
“It’s gone better than I ever could have dreamed,” she said, blushing again.
She hated bragging, and she hoped he didn’t think she was.
“I just want to be grateful for it,” she said.
“It sounds like you’re working really hard,” he said. “It’s earned.”
After dinner, Matteo and Helena walked to a little ice cream place at the edge of the harbor. Matteo explained that he’d discovered it a few weeks ago. “It’s not as touristy as the others. But I guess you already know it? You’re a Nantucketer, after all. I’m just a tourist.”
“I don’t get out much,” Helena said.
Matteo gave her a curious smile.
They ordered cones: mint chocolate for Matteo and peanut caramel for Helena. They sat on a bench along the boardwalk and people-watched in silence for a while. Families and couples scuttled around beneath the moon and stars, listening to the water, to each other. Laughter ricocheted.
Here, Helena told herself to tell him now!
But how could she possibly ruin their beautiful night? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way, always seconds from laughter.
“I love your laugh,” Matteo said.
Helena couldn’t remember a single time that Elliott had told her that.
There, under the moonlight, his lips still a little sticky from the ice cream, Matteo kissed Helena. Helena allowed herself to drop into the kiss. She allowed herself, momentarily, to forget about the horror of her normal days, of an unknowable future.
The following day, still buzzing from her date with Matteo, Helena drove to the hospital during visiting hours to see Bethany.
When she reached her room, she was grateful to see the door open.
Bethany was awake, propped up with pillows, reading a book.
She looked grumpy until Helena said her name and pulled her out of whatever she was thinking about.
“It’s you!” Bethany said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
“I came to see how you were feeling,” Helena said, sitting in the chair beside the bed.
“Bored out of my mind,” Bethany admitted.
“Annoyed. But they’re telling me I can go home sooner rather than later, if I play by the rules.
” She rolled her eyes. “My husband is about sick of me. He can’t fathom why I can’t sit still.
But I’m not used to it.” She stopped for a moment, turning to look out the window.
“The baby was not planned, exactly. And sometimes I’m terrified about the life we have ahead of us.
I’m forty-five years old. Can I build something new? ”
It was Helena’s turn to squeeze Bethany’s hand in a hospital bed. But before she could conjure the right words to say, something to calm Bethany down, Bethany said, “But tell me about you. Did you call Matteo?”
Helena told Bethany about her date, about how hard it had been to tell Matteo the truth.
“I feel foolish, but I genuinely don’t know how to tell the truth about this.
It’s like, when I’m with him, I can pretend I’m not sick.
I can pretend I have this big, artistic, romantic future ahead of me. I never imagined it would happen.”
Bethany said she understood. “You’ve been given a gift,” she said. “Matteo is a gift.”
“I don’t want to throw the gift back into the universe,” Helena said, laughing. Tears filled her eyes.
Bethany looked on the verge of crying, too.
It occurred to Helena that Bethany really did look worse for wear, that her color was gray and off, that her cheeks were sunken.
More than that, it occurred to Helena that she hadn’t been worried about anyone else’s health in a long time.
Everyone around her was going through something.
Everyone around her was dealing with their own mortality.
Just then, two women entered the room and stopped short when they saw Bethany’s visitor.
“Hello there,” one of the women said, smiling.
“Hi!” Helena got up, wiping her tears. The women looked remarkably like Bethany, and it was no surprise when they introduced themselves as her sisters, Valerie and Rebecca.
“Helena is new to Nantucket,” Bethany explained. “She was kind enough to visit me during my boring weeks indoors and tell me her exciting stories from the beyond.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes into laughter. “My sister is very dramatic.”
“I understand her,” Helena said. “It’s awful to be cooped up and not know when you can get out there again.” She’d been living that life for years and years.
“Helena,” Valerie said thoughtfully. “You aren’t the Helena from social media? The artist that everyone is talking about?”
Helena couldn’t believe it. “I don’t know. I guess so?”
Valerie and Rebecca gave one another knowing smiles.
“We were literally just talking about you,” Rebecca said. “I want to buy one of your paintings for my restaurant. I’ve been meaning to reach out to you!”
When Helena glanced over at Bethany, she saw the sick woman beaming at her.
“That would be incredible,” Helena said quietly.
“We’ll have to come by your studio and see the rest of your stuff,” Valerie said. “What’s your number? Let’s set something up!”