by Anne Leigh
Brynn heaved a heavy sigh. “My brother’s actually going to be competing again.”
Her brother, Milo, was banned from swimming. I knew and all of America heard about it because it was a national headline. He had framed Kieran with a banned substance because of personal reasons. Brynn had revealed to us that it took her a long time before she was on speaking terms with Milo again.
“Hotness is going to be in the pool again?” Tanya exclaimed. She had a crush on Milo Tanner. You couldn’t blame her. Every breathing woman had a crush on Milo. Milo’s dark looks and athletic body was definitely a winning recipe.
Brynn’s face colored and she chuckled. “You know he’s engaged to my best friend.”
Tanya harrumphed, “Ava’s a lucky bitch.” She twirled her Chanel sunglasses in the air with her fingers.
“Who’s getting lucky?” John’s voice boomed behind Tanya. “I know I am. Every day.” With a sneer he grabbed Tanya, dipped her body lower than his, and kissed her.
Tanya shrieked, Kieran woke up from his nap, and the rest of the guys arrived in various states of undress. Zander was decent in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, Dom was wearing red trunks, and why was Xavier in Dr. Seuss trunks? I’d packed a black pair for him, hoping he would actually wear it and keep it on.
You never know with these guys, someone always ended up being the butt of all the jokes.
Xavier walked closer to me and wrapped his arms around my stomach, lifting my blue midriff shirt higher. “Dom gave me an early Christmas present.” Really early, because Christmas was months away.
“Don’t worry, Nalee. I washed it with bleach after I bought it at a garage sale,” Dom said with a smirk. “I had John try it, but since he’s a giant, it fit better on Xavier.”
“What’s the catch?” I asked. With these boys trapped in men’s bodies, there’s always something brewing.
John, who had now set Tanya on her feet, answered, “There’s no catch, Nalee.”
Zander rolled his eyes. “Xavier lost a bet.” He was carrying the birthday boy who was squirming to get out of his daddy’s hold. Nicholas’ eyes grew as he eyed the Marvel characters baked by Brynn.
“Another one!” I exclaimed. Xavier had lost on some silly bets before where he’d end up doing the most absurd things such as walking on the beach in his boxers, running on stilts in a park, and diving half-naked in a public fountain in front of tourists.
I saw Kieran as he stepped closer to Brynn, put on his aviators, and brushed her hair with his hands. He grinned at me and said, “Xavier’s record is atrocious when he bets against Dom.”
“Whatever, dude,” Xavier brushed him off. I felt Xavier’s hand skimming my waist. It was a hot day in Minneapolis and his hands were making my temperature spike a few degrees more. “Dom’s stupid.”
John lifted a brow. “What does that make you then? You bet that you’d win that arm wrestling without using your arms.”
Arm wrestling without arms?
“We could use our feet,” Xavier defended. Jeezus H, how? How did these guys function in society?
“Hey, kids.” Sedona’s eyes zeroed in on where Xavier, John, Dom, and Kieran were conglomerated. “It’s time to sing.”
Zander propped Nicholas on the table, birthday boy was decked out in superhero gear – he had a Hulk shirt on, Ironman for a hat, and Captain America sunglasses. His sister, Sofia, stood in front of her mom, sparkling in a light blue Cinderella outfit that had many layers of tulle.
I’d told Sedona earlier, “Sofia must be burning in that outfit.” It was literally over ninety degrees.
Sedona had replied, “Better that than the Frozen one. She’s in the costume stage right now. We can’t even go to the grocery unless she’s wearing her pink Belle outfit.”
Zander’s parents waved at Xavier and I. They’d arrived a little after all of our friends did. Sedona had mentioned they came from overseas and was hoping they’d make it on time. I’m glad they made it.
I saw Sloane, Sedona’s dad, chatting with Zander’s parents. He hadn’t changed, he looked good. He took care of his grandkids when Zander was on away games and Sedona had late shifts at the hospital. Nicholas and Sofia had doting, caring grandparents.
“Lemme take the lead,” John’s announcement rang in the air to which everyone responded with groans. John was a talented defender on the football field; his vocals needed to be thrown on the field.
John, not a man to be deterred, started singing, “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…”
We had no choice but to follow, plus birthday boy’s eyes and squirms were active indicators that he was ready to jump on the cupcakes any time now.
As the song reached the end, I looked over at my friends. John touching Tanya’s cheeks, Brynn leaning against Kieran’s chest, Sedona holding Zander’s hand as they watched their kids smudge each other’s faces with the frosting, Dom laughing at something that Sloane was saying.
I clasped my hands with Xavier’s.
I remembered what my mom used to say to Geniah and I when we bugged her to buy us things, stuff we probably didn’t need.
She’d always quote the wise Buddha. “Happiness does not rely on what you have or who you are. It solely relies on what you think.”
Listening to the joyous chatters of friendship and the atmosphere of family around me, I knew that there’s no other place I’d rather be.
I think that was what true happiness felt like.
Life was absolutely fantastic.
From the recent financial reports, my dad’s company was thriving and I planned to keep it that way.
My friends were healthy and doing their thing.
And my girlfriend loved me.
I’m changing her status to engaged soon. Quite soon.
I trusted Nales. I didn’t trust guys who checked her out, saw that there was no ring on her finger, and thought she was fair game.
Devon and I were laughing buddies again. Sure, I hated the prick for hitting on her and wanting to snatch Nales from under me. In hindsight, I couldn’t blame him. I’d have done the same thing if I liked the girl. He was just a guy who got caught in the web of my woman’s spell.
I was catching up on the status report that Babacan’s assistant e-mailed yesterday. I didn’t have the chance to skim it until now, when I was on a little under six hour flight to New York.
My dad’s long-time business partner, Paul Everleigh, had wanted to meet in person about a business opportunity with his software design company. He was a man who conducted his business in an old-fashioned way, face-to-face meetings rather than online. I could argue that he could see my face during the meeting and he owned a tech company, but I respected his wishes. It was what he was comfortable with so Claire booked my flight two days ago for the meeting in Manhattan. I was only staying for a night then I was flying back in time for a lacrosse game against Canada.
I loved playing the game, but the next few games were back-to-back, so I wasn’t sure if I could get away from my scheduled meetings that were pivotal to the company’s growth.
“Sir, would you like some wine?” the flight attendant, who reminded me of my Aunt Clarice with the way she piled her hair up high and placed a neat bow on top, asked.
I politely shook my head. “No thank you.”
She smiled and asked the passenger in front of me if he needed anything.
I stretched my legs and reached for my phone. I took a picture of my sad face and sent it to Nales. I missed her already. I always missed her.
She was in a meeting so she wouldn’t be able to respond until later, but I wanted her to know that I was thinking of her.
I wasn’t a mushy-mushy, needy kind of guy. I seldom texted her with pathetic emojis, but lately I’d been feeling off, and if I was being real to myself, I was scared.
Scared that something would burst our personal bubble of happiness.
Scared that somewhere out of the blue, unexpected trouble would come and create chaos.
My phone buzzed, Nales probably just got out of the meeting, and I smiled as I checked the screen.
My smile came to a stop, my heart dropped a hundred thousand feet, and dread filled my nerves.
It was a text from my dad. My dad who rarely used his phone to call. He’d only gotten used to texting a few months ago. I remembered scheduling a two-hour meeting with him to teach him how to type on the smartphone I’d bought and show him how it worked. He was a fast learner, but like his friend, Paul, he wasn’t keen on changing his ways. I’d told him that texting got the information out there faster than calling because most of the time, the calls would’t reach my phone, but the text messages would.
I wanted the plane to turn around.
I flagged the flight attendant.
“How long do we have before we land?” My voice was shaky, my nerves were on a live wire, fraying, electrifying, buzzing with adrenaline.
“We have an hour before we land at JFK, sir,” she stated, her brows furrowing as she took a look at me. “Is everything okay?”
I barely looked at her to say thanks. My hands were already typing as fast as I could, willing the plane ride to go faster, wishing that I had a teleport machine so I could go back five hours earlier and not board the plane.
“Claire.” My assistant answered on the first ring.
“Yes, sir?” Her voice was calm, she must not have known. Yet.
“Call Paul and cancel the meeting.”
“You’re on your way to New York, sir,” she stated, she was probably thinking this was one of my last-minute ideas. She’s had to deal with a lot of those so I really couldn’t blame her.
“I also need you to book me the next flight out. As soon as I land in New York, I need to go back to San Francisco.” My words came out rapidly. I was trying to get them out before my brain shut down and my heart kicked into flight mode.
“Sir?”
“Do it as fast as you can, Claire. I need to get back.”
“Okay,” she said, I could detect a slight tremor in her voice.
“My mom’s in the hospital,” I whispered, the gravity of the situation dawning on me, stealing the remaining bits of energy I had in me. My mom, the first woman who showed me what love was like, how unconditional love was in the purest form, was three thousand miles away.
I could only imagine what my dad was going through.
My initial reaction was to internalize everything. Force myself to deal with it alone. When my dad had the aneurysm, I didn’t even tell Nalee until after everything fell apart. I learned to sort the shit out in my head and not let anyone know. It’s how I dealt with bad news.
I thought of how my mom would deal with the emergency on hand. She would take charge, no doubt. But she would also share her feelings. I was thirteen when I’d broken my lacrosse sticks, upset that I didn’t make the team, and sulked in my room for the whole day. My mom had taken a look at me and said, “Tell me what’s wrong, son.” I’d remained mute and she just sat with me on top of my X-Men bed sheets and stayed until I spilled the beans.
When I was finished telling her what I was miserable about, she’d said, “You’re not meant to carry the burden alone, my child. One day you’ll find out that it’s always better to share it with someone else so the load is not too heavy for you to carry.”
I didn’t think I learned my lesson then.
Not when I’d kept all the bad news from Nalee, thinking that she couldn’t handle it. When in fact, I’d just pushed her away and let her deal with a laundry-full of burden by herself.
I’m just learning my lesson now.
I texted Nalee, “Dad called 911. Mom’s at Stanford. Be there in a couple of hours. Claire’s booking my return flight asap.”
The good, the bad, everything in between.
I was sharing it with Nales.
Because when the woman who had been the center of my universe since birth was laying in a hospital bed somewhere, I would need the woman I loved with all that I was, beside me.
“She has Parkinson’s,” Korbel, Xavier’s dad, said as he hung his head, his shoulders slumped in the wooden hospital chair.
I reached out and held his hand.
He took my offering and I felt shaky, wobbly fingers.
“Cyrene’s my…she’s my –” he heaved and the shaking reached his voice, “everything.”
I’d only met Xavier’s mother three times. The first time was during our college grad party, the second and third were during family dinners. She was one sweet lady, encouraging me to drink three glasses of wine because she’d said, “Life’s too messy. Wine puts everything into perspective.”
“I’m sorry –” His voice cracked. “I don’t mean to burden you. I know you have a lot of things going on from what my son tells us. I don’t want to take up your time.”
“I’m here for you and your family, Korbel,” I said, the sight of him looking lost and vulnerable were crumbling the bits of doubt that I shouldn’t be here and had taken root the minute I stepped into Stanford ICU where Xavier’s mom was housed.
“My son doesn’t know,” he said softly. “We didn’t tell him. My wife wanted to wait until we’d gotten another opinion from a neurologist at Johns Hopkins. My friend, Serg, referred us to him. His mother was diagnosed early in her sixties, so my wife and I thought we’d wait to get more insight.”
He let go of my hand and continued, “Xavier’s shouldering a lot of the responsibilities that I should be doing. It’s been difficult for me to stand by on the sidelines when my son’s there, trying to rein in our company. I know it’s not what he loves, but he does it because he loves us.”
My eyes started to water. Xavier’s dad was Xavier’s hero, the man he wanted to grow up to become.
I’m not sure how Xavier would handle the news about his mom. Especially after what had happened with his dad. It’s been tough for my boyfriend to handle everything on his own.
So many assumptions could and were made.
Xavier’s family was rich, so it wasn’t really a hardship for the son to take over the family business.
“It’s not only us that rely on him to make it work. Our company has hundreds of employees. Thousands if you count our international holdings. With a single decision, my son puts each of the employees’ livelihood in his hands,” he admitted, the weight of his words bearing down on each breath he took.
I’d often thought that Xavier’s dad looked younger than his age.
Now, sitting by my side, with the gravity of what his wife was going through and the pressures that he thought he was putting on his son, he looked like his true age times ten.
I watched the nurse talk to the woman in front of us. A lady who looked to be about in her thirties with chocolate brown eyes and a harangued expression. She was nodding to the nurse in blue scrubs and then they both left the room.
I’d been here for over an hour.
Xavier’s dad for over four hours.
The doctors were doing more tests on Cyrene, trying to determine if her head had sustained injuries.
Cyrene had been in the shower when she’d slipped and fell.
From what Xavier’s dad told me, she’d had issues with her coordination lately and it may not have been the wisest decision to have left her alone.
Xavier’s father’s dark brown eyes reflected the pain he was going through. “It’s been a tough time for our family. My son – he’s a good man. He handles things on his own. I’m not sure what happened between you and him, when you began not showing up for the dinners my wife invited you to. If—”
“We’re okay. We’re in a good place now,” I supplied for him. The last thing I wanted was for Xavier’s dad to blame himself for what transpired between Xavier and I. His aneurysm may have catapulted the sequence, but the results were ours and ours alone.
“He’s a good man, Nalee. I hope you understand that,” he said. “Sometimes go
od men make bad choices.”
I tilted my head. “Is she going to be okay?”
I have no idea what Xavier told his dad about us.
But I didn’t think this was the space for him to be talking about what happened.
Or maybe this was his way of trying to cope with his wife’s accident.
It’s easier to focus on something else that you think you can control rather than face the one thing you have no control of.
His shoulders slumped lower. “We’ll know more in a few minutes.”
Cyrene was unconscious when Xavier’s dad found her in their master bathroom.
On the way to the hospital, Xavier’s dad had given the phone to a paramedic who had texted Xavier upon his dad’s request.
I’d cancelled my next meeting as soon as I’d received Xavier’s text.
His family might not know me very well, but there wasn’t a thread of doubt in my mind that they needed Xavier.
And since their son wasn’t there, because he was still in the air, flying, traveling to get here, I’d stand in his place.
I couldn’t take his place, but my shoulder would be here for his family to lean on if they needed it.
A young male doctor who looked like he’d graduated medical school at the age of twelve opened the locked door and walked towards us.
“Mr. Lockheed?” His eyes settling on my companion, who was now standing with his coat jacket hanging over his left arm.
Even in times like these, he still looked like a businessman.
“Yes,” Korbel replied, his eyes on the doctor, worry written all over his face.
“Is it okay to share the information with company present?” Doogie Howser, M.D., asked. Doogie Howser MD was a classic TV show that my sister, Geniah, used to watch when she was about seven years old. I was Geniah’s patient, so whatever ailment Doogie’s patient had, I was forced to reenact them. My mother drew the line at sharp objects and surgeries, but Geniah adored the little guy who grew up to be Barney Stinson in How I Met Your Mother. Oh how the mighty had fallen. From genius medical doctor to a guy who had one night stands.