The sound of the door has me turning again. I expect one of my sisters but hope beyond hope for Julia to appear in the doorframe. But that isn't who walks in. I have to blink twice to be sure I'm not seeing things. I don't trust my exhausted eyes to give me the right information. No amount of blinking clears Abbey from my vision. She's dressed in a pair of jeans and an old T-shirt, her beat up Converse sneakers on her feet. She's the old Abbey—college Abbey from my past come back to life in the hospital waiting room. I scrub a hand over my face, feeling the stubble there on my palm. That's real enough, as real as throwback Abbey walking toward me.
"Zach?" she whispers a she comes closer. "Zach, I'm so sorry. I got here as soon as I could." I stare up into her face, unsure what to do next. What the hell is she doing here? She sits, her body dangerously close to mine, pulling her chair even closer as she reaches for my hand. "How is he? Oh my god, your mom." Abbey looks at the sleeping figure of my mother and bites her bottom lip. "What can I do?"
"What can you do?" I repeat it stupidly, like I don't understand the question. "What are you doing here?"
"What do you mean? Your father's sick. Where else would I be?" Abbey looks genuinely confused, her brows wrinkling up as she looks at me. "Can I get you anything? Can I run by the house and get some things for your mother?" She's rubbing her thumb over the top of my hand, her touch both foreign and familiar. I almost expect to see her wedding ring there, nestled next to the engagement ring I busted my ass to afford. Her hand is bare, of course, because this is the new Abbey, the one with those rings shoved in some dusty corner somewhere. In spite of this knowledge, my brain short circuits, and instead of pulling my hand from hers, instead of demanding she leave, I let myself relax. It's just the tiniest of movements, but I let my hand linger in hers. Abbey smiles. "You shouldn't be alone," she tells me, using her old voice, the one that used to whisper in my ear on Saturday mornings.
I close my eyes, letting the nostalgia take hold, anything to not feel this fear for my father. I take a deep breath and my lungs fill with the smell of old Abbey. She's wearing the perfume she wore when she was my wife, before things fell apart, when I loved her. I can almost imagine that I'm back in those moments. Before we both got so angry, before I had to scrape myself up off the floor and put myself back together, before I knew the feeling of watching my father's body fail.
I lean into the smell of her, to the freeing feeling of the past, keeping my eyes squeezed shut. If I can stay like this, I think to myself, then I can ignore everything else. Abbey leans toward me as well, boxing out the rest of the world. "How is he?" she asks me, her mouth close to my ear. "Have they told you anything yet?"
I shake my head. They've taken my father into surgery, but there hasn't been an update yet. I'm hoping that no news is good news for now. I'm hoping that means he'll live and that the length of time it's taking for someone to come back here to tell us what's happening is a function of the work they're doing. They're fixing him. Soon he'll be good as new. I don't tell Abbey this because I don't trust myself to speak. My voice is trapped down deep and the effort it would take to recover it is more than I can muster right now. And opening my mouth to talk will pull me back into this moment instead of letting my brain pretend I'm somewhere else.
Abbey slides forward in her chair, her thigh rubbing along mine. She's reaching her arms toward me, circling me with her entire body. When she wraps herself around me I tense up. She pauses, but my reaction doesn't stop her for long. She envelops me, cradling me, rubbing the spot between my shoulder blades. I lean further into her touch, the smell of her, the warmth of her body. My brain continues to send me warning signals that I let my body ignore, the need for comfort overriding the obvious danger of letting Abbey hold me.
We stay tangled together for a minute, her breath coming in steady puffs against my ear. I rest my forehead on her shoulder and fight the urge to cry. I wrestle for control, my brain warring with my body. When I turn my face to look at Abbey, I'm surprised to find her so close. She's not wearing any make-up and she looks impossibly young. She blinks her eyes and lifts her chin, putting her mouth on a collision course with mine. I watch in slow motion as her lips press to mine, her free hand sliding to cup my face before I can stop her.
Her lips feel wrong, taste wrong. Anger builds in my chest. The familiar smell I've been wrapping myself in suddenly seems off. It's not the warm vanilla of Julia's skin, not the fullness of Julia's mouth against mine. I pull my head back, working to separate myself from the wrong arms, the wrong body, trying to extricate myself from Abbey. She holds me tight, not loosening her hold in the least, keeping me pressed against her. Too late, I hear the gasp behind me. When I turn toward the waiting room door, there's Julia. She's holding two Styrofoam cups that she lets slip from her hands and crash to the floor. Hot coffee bounces from where they hit, splashing the door and Julia's legs. She jumps, but doesn't seem to register the hot liquid now sliding down her shins to her shoes. Her face stays the same—mouth open, eyes wide with surprise—until it crumples and she turns, only giving me a view of her retreating back.
38
Julia
I make it halfway down the hall before the tears start to fall. I wipe them from my cheeks with hard, swift swipes. At least in a hospital people expect crying, I think bitterly. I duck down a hallway on the off-chance Zach's following me. I doubt he'll be moving anytime soon from the looks of things in the waiting room. He seemed pretty occupied. I'd rushed to my parents' house to drop off the boys, both of them still pretty shaken after what had happened at dinner. It isn't every day that elementary school kids get a lesson in the merits of CPR firsthand. I don't think they'll be able to forget that. They know their own father must have endured something similar even if none of us were there to see it. I can already predict the nightmares they'll be having tonight. And the questions—the endless, endless questions.
But I had put all that aside, focusing only on Zach and how torn up he must have been feeling. After watching him try to literally pump the life back into his father's body I knew he'd be a wreck. All I could think about was getting to the hospital and wrapping my arms around him. I wanted to take away that uncertainty and reassure him that things would be okay. I don't know how things will work out with his father, but I was sure that we would be okay. I was sure that our relationship could withstand whatever this day handed out.
Naturally I was proven wrong. Again.
The coffee had been an afterthought. Cassie always tells me that the hospital has terrible coffee. I'd gone through the drive thru with my hands impatiently shaking the whole time. Hurry, hurry, hurry. Zach needed me and I had to get to him. I hadn't heard anything since I watched the ambulance doors close and take him away. I hadn't been expecting a call or text. I know in the middle of an emergency there isn't time to update everyone. I know this better than anyone. I hadn't been expecting him to contact me with any news.
But I also hadn't expected to find him with Abbey.
More specifically, I hadn't expected to find him cuddled up with Abbey in what looked like a private moment. The expression on her face when she finally noticed me? That could only be described as triumphant. Ecstatic, even. If we had been in a competition, the point would have most definitely gone to Abbey. Except I didn't think we were in a competition at all. I thought Abbey was out of Zach's life and that he and I were working on making a life together. The same way I had thought Paul belonged only to me. Wrong.
I brace myself against the wall and rub my hands over my eyes. I'm sure I look even worse than I feel. My legs are covered with red splotches where the spilled coffee landed and I can predict that I'm sporting some serious raccoon eyes. I should find a bathroom to try to pull myself together a little better, but right now it's taking all my energy just to lean against the wall and breathe. From the corner of my eye I see Zach rush past, making a beeline for the exit. I hold as still as possible, hoping he can't see me hiding here. If he's hoping to catch me in the parking lot,
he's going to be disappointed. And what would he tell me anyway? Whatever it is I don't want to hear it.
I move farther down the hall, pushing through a set of double doors and end up face-to-face with Cassie. We both jump and she drops the clipboard in her hand. It clatters to the floor.
"Jesus, Jules!" Cassie bends down to pick up her clipboard. "What the hell are you doing down here?" She takes one look at my face and softens. "Oh my God, what's happened? I heard that Zach's dad was brought in." She reaches out to put her hand on my upper arm. Her touch brings a fresh wave of tears. "I'm so sorry. How's Zach holding up? His father didn't... he didn't?" My tears seem to confirm Cassie's suspicion. "Did he die?"
I'm crying too hard to talk, but I shake my head.
"Let's find you a place to sit and calm down a bit." Cassie steers me down the hall and around a corner to the nurse's station. The woman sitting there raises an eyebrow but Cassie silences her with a wave of her hand. She plops me down in one of the swiveling office chairs and gives me a handful of tissues. "You look crazy," she tells me, trying to wipe the circles of make-up from under my eyes.
Cassie's phone vibrates in her pocket. She pulls it out and frowns down at the screen. "Why is Zach calling me?" she asks me. "Don't you have your phone?"
"Don't answer!"
"What? Why?" Cassie's phone stops vibrating only to immediately begin again. Zach isn't going to give up.
I wait for the inevitable. Once Cassie answers—and she's going to eventually answer—then I'll be cast as the fool who trusted the wrong person. Again. Cassie narrows her eyes at me. "Julia, you'd better tell me what's going on. Why is Zach calling me and not you?"
"Because he's with Abbey. I just caught him with Abbey."
Cassie's face goes from worried to furious. "Are you kidding me? What do you mean 'caught him'? What was he doing exactly?" Her phone begins to vibrate again. "That son of a bitch!" She pokes at the screen with her fingers and puts the phone to her ear. "Talk," she barks. She chews the edge of her lip as she listens, every so often allowing an umhum to indicate she's still there. I can hear the squawk, squawk on the other end of the line until Cassie interrupts, cutting the conversation short. "She's fine. I've got this under control. But you need to leave her alone. Concentrate on your father." She abruptly hangs up. "Shit, Jules. What happened there?" She's on her knees examining the splotches on my shins before I can protest.
"I dropped some coffee." My voice comes out as an unfortunate squeak. "When I saw them."
Cassie goes to work checking my legs, nodding to her co-worker who comes over to assess the damage. "That looks bad," the woman says. "You don't want it to scar."
"Scar?" I don't want scars on my legs in addition to the scars I'm going to have on my heart.
Cassie soothes me with her hands on my shoulders. "No, no, we'll get you something for that." And before I know it there's some sort of cream being slathered on my legs. "Just take this with you and put it on twice a day until the redness goes away. I'll remind you.” She rubs my legs and talks in her hushed voice—the one she uses with babies and their concerned parents. "I can't believe Zach would do this."
Neither can I. Because for all I know of Zach this isn't him; this isn't the man I've let into my life. The doubting part of my brain reminds me that I've been wrong before, that I've misjudged. I've put my trust in a man who turned out to be anything but trustworthy. But Zach isn't Paul. And Zach wouldn’t do something like this.
But Abbey most certainly would.
"Thanks for the first aid." I straighten myself back up.
"Where are you going?" Cassie yells after me as I make my way back down the hall.
"To take care of something," I throw over my shoulder before I hit the double doors. There is no way I'm going home to cry myself to sleep over this. Not if I have a chance to do what I couldn't do with Paul.
I see her as soon as I round the corner, heading back toward the waiting room. She's on her phone, leaned against the wall, and Zach's nowhere in sight. When Abbey catches a glimpse of me she stops her conversation and shoves her phone in her pocket. She turns to face me like the invading army she is, but if she thinks I'm here to surrender she's got another thing coming.
"I'm sorry you had to walk in on that—" she starts but I cut her off. I'm not going to stand here and listen to her faux apology.
"Shut up."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You're not talking right now. Only listening."
Abbey has the nerve to start to protest, but she stops when she sees me straighten my spine. I realize I'm standing like I'm ready to smack some sense into her and now that I have the training to make that happen she's wise to be wary. A year ago I would never have imagined myself running headfirst into confrontation, but here we are. Abbey's about to be the unfortunate recipient of my newfound attitude, but she's put herself here willingly.
"I saw you in the waiting room with Zach."
Abbey's mouth starts to curl up into a smile. "As I said—"
"As I said—you're listening, not talking. I don't know what you think you're doing exactly, but this is the end of it."
Abbey's mouth opens and then snaps shut again. Even if things with Zach and I are over, I can't ignore this problem.
"You are not going to do anything else that hurts me and my family and you aren't going to do anything that hurts Zach and his family. You showed up at the hospital after his father had a heart attack? You are some kind of crazy. But let me tell you, if you keep coming around, pulling stunts like this, you're going to find out you're not the only crazy one around here." I keep my hands relaxed and my breathing even. I'm not yelling and I don't have to because this calm threat works a thousand times better than screaming ever would. "Now, you're going to walk out of this hospital and you're not going to come back unless you have your own reason to be visiting the emergency room."
"Are you threatening me?" Abbey asks loudly enough to attract the attention of anyone who happens to be in the hallway.
"Not yet." I let her take that however she wants.
Abbey lets out a huff and spins on her heel, giving me one last angry look before she marches off. As the adrenaline starts to wear off, I hear the unmistakable sound of clapping behind me. I turn to see Kat and Amy giving me a round of applause that feels less victorious than it should.
39
Zach
"Zach? Zach?"
I startle awake, unsure where I am.
"Zach?" my father asks again, his voice weak and soft. I blink away my confusion.
"I was just resting my eyes," I tell him. "Can I get something for you? Are you thirsty? Do you need the nurse?" I'm up and out of the uncomfortable hospital chair before he can protest. "Can you reach the call button?"
"I don't need the nurse. I need you to go home. Why are you still here in that chair instead of home in your own bed? Or," he pauses and I swear he's blushing, "in someone else's."
I resist the urge to bust his chops. He's still in the hospital, after all, and I don't want to have to admit to him that it's been days since I've been in Julia's bed and I'm not sure I'll ever be getting another invitation. "I'm right where I need to be," I tell him, determined to sound selfless instead of pathetic.
"Don't you have work? Who's running things while you camp out here?"
"You don't need to worry about that." I pour him a glass of water from the minuscule plastic pitcher they've given him. It barely holds anything at all, which will give me an excuse to turn away as I go to fill it from the bathroom sink. That way he can't convince me to tell him that not only have I ruined things with Julia, but I've cancelled classes at the studio this week. I can't bring myself to talk about his heart attack or to be with anyone who might want to comfort me. I can't take the reassurances that everything will be fine and I can't take the fact that things that had started to revolve around Julia now find her noticeably absent. I don't want to participate in that conversation. No fucking way.
&nbs
p; "You try to apologize?" My father's question cuts through the fog of my thoughts.
I keep my back to him so he can't read the emotion on my face.
"So, that's that then, is it? You just give up? That doesn't sound like you."
I shrug. "It isn't up to me." The message Julia left me the morning after she found me with Abbey made that perfectly clear.
"Sure it is. People make mistakes. You tell her that you love her?" The tender spot over my heart aches. I haven't told Julia I love her because I didn't want to scare her off. Now she's gone anyway and for all the wrong reasons.
"No."
"No?" My father sounds exasperated. "Why the hell not? Anybody can see you're crazy about her. You never told her?"
"Not in so many words." My confession sounds even more stupid once I say it out loud.
"Hey." My father's voice calls to me from my station by the sink. "Look at me." I turn to face his shrunken body in his hospital bed and try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. "What does this right here tell you about waiting?" He gestures with the only arm free of tubes. "This right here means you need to get your ass out of my hospital room and go take care of this."
"But..." I start to explain, to give the excuses I've been giving myself. She's been hurt before and now I've hurt her again. She's not going to forgive me. She's probably already got Graham moved into her house and back to his rightful position.
"But nothing. What's stopping you? A little pride? Fear? What, you're going to mope around and let everything go to shit because you let Abbey mess things up for you again?"
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