by Ashley Drew
Jamie flicks his eyes in Cori’s direction but immediately looks down at his hands. He’s tormented; anyone could see that, and Evelyn knows it. She knows how it must affect him to bring Cori into the conversation.
“Wow,” Evelyn starts, her light chuckle laced heavily with sarcasm. “I see things like this on Oprah, but never in a million years did I think it’d ever happen to me. What are the chances?”
Mom looks to Dad before taking Evelyn’s hand between hers. “Evelyn, honey, how about we take a little walk? It’ll be a while before we hear anything from the doctors. What do you say?”
“It happens, Marlene,” Evelyn continues, ignoring Mom’s suggestion. “I bet that it happens more often than one might think. Surely, every wife out there must have a tinge of doubt at some point in her marriage, wondering if her husband is out cheating with some sad excuse for a woman. But never does anyone tell you—not the premarital counselor, not the marriage books, not your mother or your girlfriends—that you might have to worry about your husband experimenting with other men. Had I been warned, I might not be so shocked right now. Sadly, I think it’s almost acceptable for a wife to find out that her husband is banging some woman, but another man? Now, that one is a little difficult for me to wrap my head around.”
Jesus Christ. I get it. She’s angry, and she has every right to be. But not now, not while Henry is fighting for his life in the next room. And certainly not at the expense of her daughter, who is now shaking under my arm.
I get my mother’s attention, silently pleading with her to get Evelyn out of the room before this escalates further. I agree with Jamie; this isn’t the right time to be discussing the matter. That time will come later, once Henry is out of surgery, awake and well. Or I certainly hope.
Mom whispers something in Evelyn’s ear, wraps her arm around her shoulders, and motions her head in the direction of the exit.
“That’s not what it is,” Jamie utters boldly.
Evelyn’s eyes dart to him. “What’s not?”
“What you said right now, about experimenting. If you think this is about experimenting or a one-night stand or a fling, then you couldn’t be more wrong. That’s not what this is. Not at all. It’s more than all of that.”
Of course he chooses now to be forward. Probably best if he’d said nothing at all. As soon as the words roll out of Jamie’s mouth, Cori’s hand constricts mine, her fingernails digging into the top of my hand, and her knuckles as white as paper.
Evelyn shrugs Mom’s arm off her shoulders. I guess she isn’t leaving. Great. “More than what? Like…love? Because love is the only thing that could mean more than a fling, Jamie.”
His lack of a response pretty much confirms Evelyn’s assumption.
“Are you trying to tell me that my husband is—gay? Is that it? That after all these years of marriage, he’s suddenly interested in men?”
Cori winces in my arms, while Jamie continues to stir the silence.
“Tell me, Jamie. Tell us all!” Evelyn pauses before screaming, “Talk goddammit!”
“I can’t.” Jamie finally speaks, refuting her demand with sincere apology in his voice. “It isn’t my place to say. Only Henry can do that.”
Like everyone else, I can’t wrap my head around the situation, but oddly enough, I understand what Jamie is getting at. He may have done a really shitty thing by ruining this family and being the other—well, whatever you would call him—but I respect him for not speaking for Henry, though I dare not share my thoughts out loud. If Evelyn and Cori are going to find out something life-changing about their husband and father, they have to hear it from Henry and Henry alone. No one else, not even Jamie, who is probably the only person to know his secret, has the right to tell it to the world.
And I hope—for Evelyn, for Cori, and especially Henry himself—that he makes it out of that operating room, alive and well, to say what he needs to say.
Hours later, I awake to the whispers of Evelyn and Mom, still seated in the chairs beside us, and to Cori, asleep with her head on my shoulder and her hand still wrapped in mine. A faint snore hums through her exhales; I’ve always thought her snores were cute. She looks peaceful, like she’s having sweet dreams, and I’m dreading the moment when reality steals that peace away from her and brings her back into this nightmare.
I don’t remember dozing off. The early morning sun penetrates the window and stings my eyes, and I rub each one with the palm of my free hand. When I look around the waiting room, Jamie is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Dad. I assume he left to close up the pub for the night.
A couple that hadn’t been here last night sits on the opposite side of the room, and I wonder what or who they’re here for. I don’t know them, but I know what we share in common: uncertainty, distress. And we are all doing the one and only thing we can do—wait.
So we wait.
By the time Dr. Singh, Henry’s surgeon, finally enters the waiting room, Jamie is back, sitting on the other side where that couple was once seated but is now gone. Cori awakens, her hand still tangled with mine as her head darts up from my shoulder, and Evelyn stands quickly from her seat, bringing Mom up along with her. I’ve lost track of time, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he gives us the good news we’ve been hoping for all night.
When Dr. Singh gives the green light for Evelyn and Cori to see Henry, I notice the sad look on Jamie’s face. He must want to see Henry, too. I doubt Evelyn will allow it. Plus, the doctor tells us only immediate family members are allowed in the ICU, and I catch a glimpse of Evelyn and the wicked smile curling out of her mouth.
Mom and I offer to get breakfast for everyone at the hospital cafeteria, but when I turn to leave, Cori doesn’t let me go. Dr. Singh remains steadfast in the ‘family members only’ rule to which she argues, “He is family,” and demands for the doctor to lead us to her father.
We step into the small room, filled with the steady beeps of Henry’s heartbeat, which relieve Evelyn and Cori of the breaths they’ve been holding. Henry appears lifeless, and if it wasn’t for the green line zigzagging across the screen on the heart monitor, I might think he was.
In any other situation, a mother and daughter would probably rush to their husband/father’s bedside, wanting nothing more than to be close to him, but Cori and Evelyn remain planted in their confusion near the door as they stare at Henry. They want answers first.
But it could be a while before they get them.
Henry awakens several hours later. By this point, I have no idea what day of the week it is, as the hours and minutes continue to blur into a timeless mess.
And I have no idea how Henry has the strength to talk through his pain, to finally say what he has needed to say.
And I have no idea if things will ever go back to the way they once were.
Geography sucks. As a subject in school, I didn’t mind it much. I kicked ass in it, actually. But right now? I hate it, because Cori is leaving tomorrow. The day I’ve dreaded over the past three weeks has finally come. She’s leaving for New Jersey to be with her mom.
Soon after Henry started recovering from his heart attack, Evelyn didn’t waste any time in making her decision to leave, and to my disbelief, neither did Cori. Despite Cori saying it’s temporary, she deferred her fall enrollment at the university and expects to be back for spring semester. She’ll be gone for six months, but I’ve never been away from her for more than six days. I reach for the phone on the nightstand and begin to dial her number, only to set it back down on the receiver.
I want to ask her to stay, or at least for her to ask me to go. I’m a selfish bastard for making this all about me. I groan and force myself out of the bed, stumbling for the door and accidentally kicking my desk chair.
Alright, it wasn’t an accident, but it hurts way more than I thought it would. “Stupid chair¸” I mutter, and shove it out of the way, filled with an irrational urge to hate it just like I hate everything about this day.
I hate t
hinking about not seeing Cori every day. I hate how she won’t talk to me about this even though it’s obviously eating her up inside. I hate how I can’t hate her father for wrecking everything.
And I especially hate how Evelyn’s from New Jersey and that her family still lives there. I hate how that stupid world map posted on the wall by my desk measures the distance between California and New Jersey as four-and-a-half inches.
The entire night was spent trying to figure out roughly how many inches actually lie between the two states. I attempted the math in my head, multiplying the number of inches in a foot by the number of feet in a mile. Needless to say, I didn’t get far because you’d have to be a genius to do that shit in your head. Point in case, it’s a lot of inches, a lot of miles, and for that map to boast four-and-a-half inches is fucking misleading.
I stalk closer to the wall where the map hangs, the early morning sun cascading through the breaks in the trees outside, penetrating my window, and stinging my tired eyes when I pass it. I stand in front of the map and glare at those four-and-a-half inches, then grab the right edge of it and forcefully rip it all the way across, leaving four uneven corners pinned beneath the wall tacks.
The torn map lies at my feet, crumpled. A world torn apart—it couldn’t sound any more ironic or pathetic. Because that’s exactly what has happened here.
I kick the map with all my might, kicking it again and again as it corkscrews through the air. Once I stop, the wrinkled paper falls to the floor, my frustrations heavily embossed in the crinkles and creases.
“Geez, what did that map do to piss you off?”
My head whips around at the sound of Tess’s voice. She stands in my doorway, dressed in her exercise clothes, her face and neck heavily beaded with sweat as her eyes meet my glare. Brushing the back of her hand across her forehead, she saunters over to the desk chair and uses it for balance while she pulls one foot up behind her and stretches her quads. “Wow, you look like shit.”
On a normal day, I’d come up with some kind of smart comment. Instead, I don’t say anything at all. I’m too damn tired, and well, her observation isn’t far from the truth. I scratch at the three-day-old scruff on my face and walk around her, purposely bumping my shoulder into hers and causing her to momentarily lose her balance. When I pass the window, I catch a glimpse of the sky, already a vibrant blue this early in the morning. The weather guy on the news last night said it would be a beautiful day today. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
When I reach the edge of my bed, I fall face down on top and land horizontally, my legs hanging over the side. With my head buried into my comforter, I reach to my left, blindly feeling for the nearest pillow, pulling it toward me, and laying it under my head.
“So this is it? This is what it’s come down to? You, wallowing in your misery when you should be convincing Corinne to stay? Why aren’t you doing anything about this? What is wrong with you?” Tess attacks me, one question after another. It’s the same battle I’ve fought and lost with myself ever since Cori told me her decision.
“Do you know Cori?” I mumble into my pillow. Once that girl’s mind is made up, it’s made up.
“Yes, I do know her, which is why I know that she’s always made the calls. But it’s because you let her. You have a bigger influence on Corinne than you think.” The sound of her footsteps echoes over the floor and stops near my bed. “I suggest that, for once, you don’t let her decide. Tell her she doesn’t need to leave. Running away isn’t going to make the situation better with her dad. You agree with me, right? Tell me you agree, Nicholas.”
I turn my head to the side, and Tess towers at the foot of my bed. My sister is right, and despite being in agreement with her, the only thing I say is, “Are you finished?”
“You know what she’s doing, right?” Tess jerks the pillow out from under me, and my head bounces on the mattress. “She’s pushing you away because she doesn’t want anyone to hurt her. I guarantee it. Nicholas, if you let her leave, she’s going to keep you and Henry at a distance for potentially forever. This isn’t temporary.” Her voice cracks, making me realize I’m not the only one affected by Cori’s decision.
“It is temporary,” I argue with a sigh, yanking the pillow out of her hands and putting it back under my head. My throat forces the words out despite my conscience seeing any truth in them.
Kneeling on the floor, she leans over the foot of the bed and crosses her arms. When a streak of sunlight shoots through the window and hits her eye, she squints, and then shifts to her right. “Have you even told her you love her?”
“I tell Cori I love her all the time. She’s my best friend. What does this have to do with anything?”
She rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated breath of air. “You know what I mean. There’s a difference between loving someone and being in love, and the reality, dear brother, is that you’re in love with Corinne.”
My silence is an indicator of my answer.
Tess leans closer. “So, does she know? Have you told her?”
“It wouldn’t make a difference, Tess.”
“Of course it would,” she refutes, scowling, her tone reverting back to its attacking ways. “She’d be heartless if she walked away knowing that.”
Instantly, I lift my head from my pillow, my eyes issuing a warning. “Are you kidding me, Tess? Are you completely oblivious to what our friend has been going through?” I stand, and she follows me. “This isn’t about me! Now is not the right time to tell her. She made her decision, and I have to let her go.”
“When is there ever a right time? You can’t take life for granted because the second you do, the time you thought you had will have slipped right through your fingers. It will be too late.” She gently lays a reassuring hand on my forearm. “As much as you get on my nerves sometimes,” she teases, smiling, “you’re my brother, and I love you. I want you to be happy, and I know that Corinne makes you happy.”
God, my sister can’t be more right about that. Happy doesn’t even come close to explaining the extent of what I feel when I’m with Cori. I could be having the shittiest day, but the second she enters my thoughts, my heart does these funny little flips in my chest, making me forget my sour mood. And that gorgeous smile of hers. Who knew that a smile could make one’s heart melt, swell, and explode all at the same time? A smile creeps over my face.
Tess nods, and I see in her eyes that she thinks she’s won me over. “You need to tell her tonight, Nicholas. Find some time during our goodbye shindig to be alone with her, and tell her. You may never get the chance again.” She turns to leave but adds, “Oh, and I suggest you do something about those dark circles, and shave that shit off your face before you do. Not a good look on you.” She smirks.
Now, I haven’t made up my mind yet, but Tess’s lecture certainly makes me think. Telling Cori I love her isn’t going to be easy, no doubt. Just getting her alone will be a daunting task because the thing is, Cori and I haven’t spent much one-on-one time together lately.
But Tess is right. I have to tell her. And I have to do it tonight.
July 29th
Dear Nick,
If you’re reading this, I’ve already gone. And trust me, I don’t like myself very much right now. This isn’t the way I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t bring myself to do all the ‘boo hoo, we’re going to miss you’ stuff at the pub. I know I promised you could drive me to the airport, but the thought of that was even worse—to stand in the luggage line next to you, feeling time chipping away at our last moment together until the past eighteen years of our lives crumbled completely in its hands. To say that awful word, the one that ironically begins with good when there is nothing good about it. You and I both know I do things on a whim, but you keep me grounded. I don’t know how I would have survived the past eighteen years without you. God, I don’t know how I will survive the next six months without you.
I’ve been hurt and betrayed, broken by a person I thought would never break me. That’s
why I need this—the time away. To think. To put myself back together. To simply be on my own. And not because I want to be without you by my side. The truth is, I need you, Nick, but I think I take that for granted. You are always there to break my fall. You are always there to catch me. But one day, you may not be, and what will I do then?
I know we haven’t talked about us. That night. After the beach. Before the hospital. You and me in between. Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve thought about it—constantly—and it sticks out like a neon-pink sticky note in my mind. I haven’t smiled much in the past few weeks, but every time I do, it’s because I’m thinking of you. I smile every time I think of you. I’m smiling now. This very second. Even as I write this godforsaken letter, I’m thinking of you, and just...smiling.
And that’s how I want it to stay. I want to be able to think of you and simply smile. In a few months...a few years...when we’re old and gray, wearing adult diapers, and growing hair on our chins (please, dear lord, don’t let it actually happen to me!), I want to think of you and all the memories we’ve shared over the years, void of any complications, regrets, or disappointments—the very three things that have suddenly invaded my life.
You’re my best friend, Nick. There is and will never be any question about that. I often wonder if two friends exist out in the world that compare to us, and then just like that, I quickly answer my own question—hell fucking no. We’re extraordinary, you and I. Call me egotistical, but there is no way there are two people in the universe that are cooler than us! So, let’s not contemplate and analyze what it was or what it could have been, complicating the simplicity of you and me, disappointing each other at the end of it all, and losing what we have. Let’s simply stay...us. The way we are. The best of friends. Cori and Nick. The hot shot and the chicken shit. I can’t lose that. I can’t lose you.