Tricia appeared in the living room. “May I remind you, you’re not his union rep, and Ted and I have an agreement.”
“We do,” Ted said. “Besides, I love to keep busy, and she’s paying me well to do just that. And…” he looked from Tricia to Charley, “she’s funny.”
“Well, you’d be—”
“No, no, no,” Tricia interrupted Charley.
“Among the few to think that about her,” Charley whispered, patting Ted on the shoulder.
“Dinner’s warming in the oven. I made roasted potatoes and veggies, and there are some slices of meatloaf snugged in with them,” Ted said. “See you tomorrow, Trish.”
Charley looked at Tricia after he left. “Trish?”
“Come on, let’s eat while I’m actually hungry. And I want to hear how last night went.”
Over dinner, Charley recounted the evening for Tricia, leaving out everything that happened after Emily and Terry left in their cab.
“A headache, huh? How much did you drink?”
“More than I should have. But I didn’t embarrass myself.”
“Mmm. Wasn’t really worried about that. Just wondering if you mean something to her now. That was a big rescue on her part.” Tricia put a second piece of meatloaf on her plate, and Charley added a handful of roasted potatoes to it. “And a Chanel jacket. She’s got style.”
Charley waited until Tricia fell asleep in her arms in front of the NFL game before carefully pulling her phone out of her pocket to text Joanna.
Hope you’re doing okay after last night. So sorry I kept you up so long.
There was no answer for quite a few minutes.
Joanna: Why are you texting so loud? I have a headache.
Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry.
Joanna: Don’t care that you kept me up late. Glad you talked to me. Headache really just a dull roar.
Okay, well, since we’re not seeing each other tom’w, do you want to have lunch Tues? I work from home while E’s away. And I understand you’re a foodie…
Joanna: Terry and I spent too much time talking about food, didn’t we?
Charley sent her an emoji face rolling its eyeballs.
Joanna: Okay, okay, sheesh! Some good places over here. Come over at 1:00.
* * *
Before she’d left the office Friday afternoon, Charley had set her office phone to forward calls to her home phone because that would be her base for the next two weeks while Emily was in Abu Dhabi. With a nine-hour difference, it made more sense for her to work from home.
When the alarm clock went off shortly after midnight Monday morning, Charley felt like she’d been steamrolled; it was half an hour before she needed to be at her computer for Emily, though, so she dragged herself through her morning ritual, and as she was taking a sip of orange juice and reading the emails that had come in over the last few hours, she spotted the red flag from Jenny with a request to Skype in as soon as possible. Charley dialed her up, wondering what on earth could be so wrong so soon.
“Good morning, bright eyes,” Jenny said, smiling.
“If I knew you better,” Charley said, “I’d tell you to stuff it.”
“I think you just did. So, I guess we’re good friends now.”
Charley smirked at her. “What’s up?”
“It’s the presentations.”
“Oh, God.” Charley sighed. “Let me get the flash drive.”
She plugged it into her laptop, smoothed everything out with Jenny, and then asked her to remind Emily she’d be at the doctor with Tricia late in what would be Emily’s afternoon. She spent the dawn hours on standby for Jenny, using the time to edit the next set of chapters that Neely had given her some very astute notes for until she could call Tricia at six thirty to make sure she was up and not on the floor of the bathroom again before they met with Dr. Gerard.
She was buried in the Monday music streaming report when the phone rang at half past seven, caller ID announcing her mother. Surprised and a little panicked, she halted her hand above the receiver. Then, chastising herself, she picked up. “Mother? Are you okay?”
“Yes, darling, of course. I just wanted to catch you right away. Irene Palmer passed away early this morning and we’re surmising her wake will be Thursday, with the funeral Saturday. I was hoping you could accompany me to the wake. I’ll ask Robert to go to the funeral with me, though. I know you don’t like those.”
Charley tried to concentrate on the rest of her mother’s conversation, but all she could think of was Joanna. “Mother,” she interrupted, “yes, sure, I’ll take you. But I have to dash.”
“Of course, dear. I’ll call you tonight when I have more information.”
Charley sat at her desk, stunned. She picked up her phone and opened a text message.
I’m so, so sorry. She attached an emoji of a dove with an olive branch and hit Send. A moment later, the buoy dinged with Joanna’s reply.
Joanna: How did you hear? And thx so much.
My mother.
Joanna: Of course.
Where are you?
Joanna: At Irene’s with her family.
I hope they’re all right… Anything I can do? Take you to dinner tonight? Obviously, lunch tomorrow was out.
Joanna: I’ll be here w/them for a while.
Okay. Let me know how you are later?
Joanna: Yes.
Charley put her phone away and realized she had very little time to get ready and get up to the hospital for Tricia.
Pacing outside the Radiology Department waiting for Tricia to get there, Charley was alarmed when her medical team arrived en masse. Minutes later, Dr. Gerard came down the hall, a depleted Tricia in tow. They examined her, and the team quizzed her about Wednesday’s fever. Satisfied with what they heard, they chose a wait-and-see route for the time being. “But if it happens again, you get in here pronto, understand?” Dr. Gerard looked at both Tricia and Charley.
“You should really go home and rest.” Charley buttoned Tricia’s camel hair coat after the doctors had left the room.
“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m going in to work.”
“You look like shit.”
“I thought I looked like shit warmed over when I looked in the mirror this morning, so I’m going in.”
“No fighting you, is there?”
“Was there ever?” Tricia asked.
Charley laughed. “Fuck you.” She pulled Tricia’s scarf a little higher in her collar. “But call me tonight to let me know how you are.”
* * *
Charley’s mother called her after dinner with the funeral home information. She took it all down and then emailed Emily, letting her know she’d be escorting her mother to a wake Thursday afternoon. Timewise, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference to Emily’s schedule, but she still kept her apprised of anything out of the ordinary.
Thursday came quickly enough, and Charley pulled her black Givenchy dress out of the closet. She’d bought it years ago, at the height of the AIDS epidemic, when she no longer cared that she showed up at funerals in the same dress. There had been too many services at too many churches, halls, and theatrical venues, and soon enough, no one cared about what they wore to them.
She hadn’t heard from Joanna at all, not even after she’d sent her a short text telling her she was thinking about her, adding several hugs at the end.
At the funeral home, she spotted Joanna right away sitting with a group of women who had to be the team that had cared for Irene. She looked almost frail in a one-piece black pantsuit cinched at the waist. Charley saw the pain and sadness etched in her expression and wanted to gather her up and hug her. She realized they’d never really talked about Irene. There must have been quite a bond between them. After she and her mother paid their respects at the casket and she got her mother seated among all her friends, she went over to Joanna.
“No, sit,” Charley said, her hand out to prevent Joanna from standing.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Joanna stood
and hugged Charley, who took in her scent, and hugged her closely. She felt a rigidity that hadn’t ever been there before.
“I’m so sorry. This must be so hard for you.”
“It’s hard for the whole team.” Joanna glanced at the six other women sitting with her. She took Charley’s hand and led her to the far corner of the room. “Come, I need to speak to you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Charley saw her mother watching her. “Is everything okay? I mean, this—” she swept her hand toward the crowded room, “notwithstanding.”
“Yes and no. Irene was like a mother to me. We all knew she couldn’t live forever. But it’s been devastating.” Joanna’s eyes teared up, and Charley put her arm around her waist, drawing her to her.
“What will happen now?”
Joanna sighed and leaned into Charley. “The company gives you two weeks off when a patient dies. Then they try to pair you with a relatively easy case for a while.”
“Is two weeks going to be enough? Can you take more time?”
“Ever lost anyone close?”
“I have.”
“Then you know time really isn’t the issue.” Joanna shifted and moved out of Charley’s embrace. “Charley, I’m going away for a week or so after the funeral. My friends Madeline and Thea have a cabin upstate. I need to…I don’t know, collect myself, think about things and just…be.”
Charley nodded. “I think that’s a really good idea.”
“Georgia’s coming with me.”
If someone had thrown a cold glass of water on her, Charley wouldn’t have been more surprised. Or overwhelmed. Or confused. Was this why she’d felt the rigidity in Joanna’s hug?
“This doesn’t change anything. With you and I,” Joanna said. “I just have to figure things out.”
Didn’t it? But Charley couldn’t verbalize that. Every insecurity that had plagued her in the hours after she’d seen Tricia and Reagan in that restaurant, and in the years after as she tried to make sense of what had happened, came flooding back. Intellectually, she knew this wasn’t the same situation. At all. But everything in the pit of her stomach told her it was. What if she was one of the “things” Joanna needed to think about? What if she wasn’t? Either way, there was nothing she could say in her defense. She had nothing to defend. “Okay.”
“Cell phone reception is only good in town up there, and Madeline’s cabin is quite a ways outside town. But I can call you from her landline.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Joanna squeezed Charley’s hand and returned to her seat amid the other nurses.
The room suddenly felt cold and empty. She caught her mother looking at her and made her way to where she was sitting. “Time to go?’ she asked. Her mother nodded.
Chapter Twenty-four
The phone rang Saturday morning while Charley was standing at her living room window, a cup of coffee in her hand, kicking herself for not having called her brother Robert to tell him she’d take their mother to the funeral. It would be days before she’d see Joanna again. And even though she’d said she’d call, Charley couldn’t imagine how those conversations would go with Georgia sitting right there. The caller ID interrupted her angst and had her dashing for the phone immediately. “Hey, Tricia.”
Ten minutes later, she was on her way downtown. She found Tricia on her knees in front of the toilet, her white pallor matching the tiles.
“What’s wrong?” She reached for Tricia’s hair to keep it out of her face as she retched.
“I don’t know.” Tricia lay down on the floor. “Oh, that’s nice and cold.”
Charley felt for a temperature, but Tricia’s skin was cool to the touch. She frantically searched her mental notes of all the things Dr. Gerard said might suddenly affect Tricia adversely, and finally remembered he’d mentioned hypercalcemia, the cancer tending to produce a substance that removes calcium from the bones, sending it into the bloodstream. Could that be what this is? “What time did this start?”
“Around six, I think,” Tricia replied.
“And you didn’t call me until eleven? How many times have you thrown up? Like, how many times each hour?”
“This is only the third time. I’m all right. It’s the rolling nausea I can’t handle. Sorry. It unnerved me.”
“I’m texting Dr. Gerard. You might not be all right.”
“Just help me get back to the bed.”
Charley lifted Tricia up and hobbled into the bedroom with her, silently cursing the size of the apartment. After propping her on the bed, she went to the laundry room for the small plastic waste can she had seen there, put two plastic bags in it, and brought it back to the bedroom.
“Here,” she said. “If you can’t make it to the bathroom, use this.” She texted Dr. Gerard. Within minutes, he replied.
Gerard: Yes, could be hypercalcemia. We’ll meet her at radiology tomorrow at 8. Get protein into her in sm amts, & crackers or toast. Also, liquids (non-acidics). If she vomits again, bring her in.
“Could you eat a soft-boiled egg and toast?” Charley asked Tricia, whose eyes were closed as she rested against the stack of pillows on her bed.
“Yes, that sounds nice.”
Waiting for the water to boil for the eggs, Charley was surprised when Tricia appeared in her robe, her hair tied back.
“I brushed my teeth. I feel a lot better. Did I remember to restock my tea supply? I ran out last winter.”
Charley found the Earl Grey, filled the kettle, and searched the cupboard for honey. Tricia settled down at the table, watching her work.
“I did two things this past week. One will please you, after the research we did last weekend, and the other will have you rolling your eyes. I’ve hired a law firm. And I spoke with a private nursing company about sending someone for overnights.”
“Oh, thank God.”
“That’s for the private nurse, I’m sure.”
“Yes. I hate to say, I don’t care about your law firm.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“When do they start?”
“The law firm Monday. The nurses in two weeks. And before you think I’m being cavalier, I really don’t think I need them yet, so I talked it over with Ted, and he can stay nights for the next couple of weeks so you can have your life back. In fact, he’s on his way over now. Did you know he was his mother’s caretaker when she was sick with breast cancer?”
“Yes, I knew that. Why do you think I wanted you to hire him?” Charley cracked the eggs and scooped them into a bowl, put it in front of Tricia, then plated the dry rye toast for her.
“He’s really quite extraordinary. A real Renaissance man.”
“I can stay the day. No problem.” Charley was, for the first time, afraid for Tricia and wasn’t sure she wanted to leave.
“No. Ted’s coming over to work, now that I have the law firm lined up.” Tricia began eating, and Charley poured her cup of tea.
“Not going to just take it easy today?”
“I don’t really have that luxury.” Tricia pulled a section of the New York Times out and began reading.
“Okay, well, I guess that’s my cue. I’m going to put in a load of laundry for you and then prep the roast I saw in the refrigerator for your slow cooker.”
“Thank you, Charley. I’m sorry if I get a little grumpy.” Tricia took a sip of tea. “Oh, that’s good. My throat gets so sore sometimes now.”
Charley opened the honey bottle and turned it upside down, squeezing a thick stream into Tricia’s tea. She recapped it and headed to the laundry room.
After prepping dinner for the slow cooker, Charley went in search of Tricia and found her in her office, a large shawl of French blue wrapped around her, open law books piled across her desk, her bifocals perched on the end of her nose.
“If you want me to stay, I can.” She’d already made that clear, but maybe Tricia would relent.
“I’ll be fine with Ted. You go. He has a set of keys now,
too.”
“You’re sure he should have them so soon?”
“He’ll be working and staying here. I’m still going into the office until, well, until things change. I’m sure the firm won’t be thrilled when they see my lawsuit. So, yes, he needs the keys to get in here every day. Why don’t you plan on coming to the hospital tomorrow morning with me? Ted will take care of everything else now. Really, take this whole week for yourself, come next Sunday and watch the game with me.”
Charley looked at her hands, threaded together in front of her. “I can’t. I’m hosting the NFL dinner that night. Why don’t I come down Saturday night? There will be some good college games on.”
Tricia thought that sounded like a good idea, and it didn’t need to be said that she wouldn’t be a welcome addition to the NFL dinner with Charley’s friends. It was sad, but that’s how it was.
Charley wasn’t sure if she felt released or replaced. Or a little of both. She left Tricia to finish cleaning up the kitchen, and when she came back to say good-bye, Tricia was hunched over her books, reading, and making notes, the early afternoon sun suffusing the room with light. Charley stood looking at her, and for the first time, she saw an old woman. Her skin was filigreed with a fine webbing of wrinkles, her hair no longer soft and full despite how well her hairdresser kept her age hidden with the highlights. And of late, that regal bearing had taken quite a hit: the hunch was less about the books, more of a stoop from illness and treatments. Sadness rose in her throat and she stepped back out to control herself.
From the doorway, Charley told her she was leaving, and Tricia waved, not looking up. She rang for the elevator, and when the doors opened, Ted was there peeling off a maroon Harvard hoodie.
“Hey, I thought you’d be gone by now. Glad I caught you.”
“Me, too,” Charley said. “There’s a slow cooker roast going, it’ll be done at six. Tricia had a…I don’t know what to call it. Hypercalcemic attack, possibly. Keep her hydrated, maybe she won’t throw up anymore. But if she does, call me. We’ll have to go to the hospital. Chicken soup might be good for lunch.”
“Got it.”
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