by Syndi Powell
They returned to painting, the only sound in the room coming from the wireless speaker that played pop music. April sashayed to the rhythm. All the months she’d spent in her bed wishing to be well, staring at these four walls and imagining what it would be like to have the energy to change their color. To be able to use her arms and body fully. To feel alive and healthy enough to spend an afternoon painting and making her bedroom beautiful.
And if she faced chemo again, then she could look at these walls and remember when she’d felt good and know those days would come again.
* * *
NONNA HANDED HIM the bag of groceries and scolded. “You turned that poor girl down? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that I don’t have the freedom to just leave and go off somewhere.” He’d stopped at his grandparents’ store after work to pick up some things before heading home for the night. “What would happen to my mom? I can’t leave her.”
“We’ve told you that we want to help as much as we can. Why don’t you let us?”
“Because she doesn’t remember you and that makes her upset.”
Nonna looked away. He hated to hurt her by saying that, but it was the truth. His mom didn’t remember her parents anymore. The last time they’d come over, she’d thought they were there to take her away. That they were putting her in a hospital to die. He’d begged his grandparents to leave then, and had spent the rest of the evening trying to calm down his mother. What would happen if they took over her care so he could fly to New York? His mother would think he’d abandoned her. He couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t add to her confusion and frustration.
“And April is hardly a poor girl. She’s strong enough to get over her disappointment in me.” They walked to his car and put the groceries in the trunk. He turned to look at Nonna. “She thinks that I should put Mom into a home.”
Nonna nodded, considering his words. “Maybe it’s time.”
“You’re giving up on her, too?”
“Is getting her the best care really ‘giving up’? You won’t be able to do it by yourself forever.”
“I have nurses that come over.”
“Soon that won’t be enough.”
He couldn’t hear this from his grandmother, too. Bad enough that April tried to convince him that he should desert his own mother. “I can handle her just fine.” He slammed the trunk down and went to the driver’s side. “I can’t put her in a home, Nonna. I just can’t. And I wish everyone would stop pressuring me to do that. She’s okay with me.”
“No, she’s not.”
“It’s the only way.”
“You’re wrong, and eventually, you’ll understand that.”
He shook his head and got into his car, slamming the door. He started the car and paused as Nonna returned to the store. She meant well. He knew that, but she didn’t understand. Neither did April. He couldn’t leave his mother. She needed him desperately.
He put the car in gear as he realized that part of him needed her, too.
* * *
THE WEBSITE FOR the hotel promised that it was located near the action of New York City. April clicked on the images of the lobby, the rooms, the views. She checked the map and found that it was in Midtown, within walking distance of much of what she hoped to see. Without hesitation, she clicked on the reservation button and started to fill out the information. Before she finished booking the room, she grabbed her cell phone and called Page. “I’m making the reservation right now. Are you coming?”
“Just tell me when.”
April smiled and pressed the send button, confirming the reservation. She stood on the edge of marking another item off her list. “Well, start packing your bags because we leave in two weeks. We’ll be there in time for Saint Patty’s Day and the big parade.”
“A big city full of drunks. Oh, joy.”
Okay, so Page didn’t sound nearly as excited as April felt, but she knew this would be an epic trip. She searched the Broadway ticket website to find what shows would be available during their stay. Most of the popular ones were sold out but promised that same-day tickets could be found when they arrived in the city. Maybe she’d wait and try to get in that way. “I also found a spa near the hotel that sounds fantastic. Hot-stone massages. Manis and pedis. Seaweed wraps. The whole package.”
“Whatever you want is fine with me. This is for you.”
“Is there anything you want to do while we’re there? It’s not just my trip. We can exorcise the ghost of Chad’s ego easily. There’s so much to do.”
She knew the story about how Chad had turned their anniversary trip into a series of job interviews. He’d decided that they would move there and blamed Page when things didn’t go as planned. He’d abandoned her in the middle of Central Park, where her purse got stolen and she ended up having to trek five miles to the hotel only to find herself locked out and no Chad in sight. She’d sat in the lobby for five hours until he came back.
Page cleared her throat. “Anything we do will exceed that fiasco. Fill our days with as much stuff as you want to, and I will follow you.”
“Isn’t there one thing you wish you’d done?”
“Well...”
The way she paused before saying anything, April knew it had to be something good. Page relented. “Okay, fine. There’s a place they show in the movies and on TV that has those giant cups of frozen hot chocolate. I’m not sure of the name of the place, but that’s where I want to go.”
“Really? You don’t like chocolate.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s that too big a deal is made over it. But that frozen-drink thing looks really decadent. Delicious. For once, I want to be frothy and too sweet like that drink, okay?”
Two things that Page definitely wasn’t. “Okay. I’ll find the place.” It was the least that April could do for her best friend and biggest supporter. “This is going to be amazing.”
“Don’t let your expectations get too high, or the city won’t be able to live up to them.”
Somehow, April doubted that this trip would lead to disappointment. She’d dreamed of going since she was a kid, and she was finally doing it. No more excuses. No more reasons not to. This was one item she was definitely marking off her list.
CHAPTER NINE
APRIL SWALLOWED THE bitter taste in her mouth as the plane landed at JFK. She glared at the empty seat next to her. Page would be arriving tomorrow due to a scheduling conflict at the hospital. April had argued that she would wait and postpone the trip, but her friend had insisted she go in time to see the Saint Patrick’s Day parade. “That’s something you don’t want to miss. And I’ll be there the next morning to go to the spa like we planned,” Page had said.
So here she sat, alone, wondering how she would navigate the city on her own. The plane taxied to the gate and passengers unbuckled seat belts and began to fill the aisles. Everyone seemed anxious to get going. April sat, looking out the window at the airport. She wasn’t in any hurry. The crowd could jostle in the aisles to leave a few minutes sooner.
Once the plane had emptied, April stood and removed her carry-on bag from the overhead bin and walked to the door. One of the flight attendants smiled and welcomed her to New York. April returned the grin and made her way into the busy terminal. People didn’t walk; they ran to their gates, to baggage claim, to the taxi stand. April strolled the halls and followed the directions to baggage claim, where she picked up her bright pink rolling suitcase. No mistaking that it was hers.
Arrows directed her to the taxi stand, and she waited in line for the next available cab to take her to the hotel. She gave the cabbie the hotel’s name, then settled back into the seat. She couldn’t take her eyes from the window, soaking in the sights and sounds of the city. She fished her cell phone out of her pocket and texted Page. Here at last. Wish you were with me.
S
he put her phone back into her pocket and marveled as they entered the busy traffic heading toward Midtown. She had a few hours before she’d need to walk where the parade would pass by. In her travel book, she’d found a deli on the parade route where she could eat lunch and enjoy the things from there.
The taxi arrived at the hotel, and she paid the cabbie before grabbing her suitcase. She stood outside the massive building and tilted her head back to get the entire piece of classic architecture into focus. She put a hand on top of her head to keep her stocking cap from falling off and grinned. She was hardly a country bumpkin making her first trip into the city. She’d had almost a decade to shed her small-town roots. Yet this was something truly special.
She entered the hotel through a revolving door and was greeted by a bellhop who tipped his cap to her before hurrying away with a cart full of luggage. She approached the front desk and waited while the receptionist helped the family in front of her. The little girl sucked on two of her fingers as she stared at April, who gave her a small wave. The girl frowned and buried her face in her mother’s pant leg.
Okay, then. The family left the front desk, and April moved forward. She took out the printed confirmation from the hotel’s website and her driver’s license, placing both on the marble counter. The receptionist greeted her and entered the information into his computer. “I see you’ve upgraded to our VIP suite with two bedrooms.” He looked up and waggled his eyebrows. “Very nice. Posh. Fabulous views. First-class all the way.”
This couldn’t be happening. “Your computer’s wrong,” she blurted, pointing to her paper with the confirmation. “I booked a room with no view and two queen-size beds. There’s got to be some kind of mistake.” It had been the best option that she could fit into her budget for the trip.
The clerk turned back to his computer and hit a few more keys. “No. VIP suite.”
“I can’t afford a suite.” But she brought out the credit card under which she’d reserved the room and slapped it on the counter.
The receptionist slid the card back toward her. “It’s paid in full.”
“You put the suite on my card before I got here? What if I had canceled?” She was surprised the charge had gone through considering her limit.
“It’s under a different card.” More furious typing. “A Zachary Harrison paid for it.”
That man! She closed her eyes and fought the urge to groan aloud. What had he done? He couldn’t go with her, so he felt guilty and upgraded her reservation? She wondered what other surprises waited for her. She put her ID and credit card back into her wallet and stuffed it in her carry-on bag. “I’ll only need one key for now. My friend won’t be in until tomorrow.”
After getting directions to her suite, she took the key and walked to the glass elevator, her suitcase rolling behind her. The up button had already been pressed, so she glanced around the spacious lobby while she waited. She shook off the anger at Zach’s gesture and decided to enjoy it. After all, that was the point of the entire trip: to have a good time and live a little.
The elevator let her out on the top floor, and she crept down the hushed hallway to her suite. She slid the key card in and out of the lock, and slowly opened the door to reveal the most luxurious room she’d ever seen. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the New York skyline. Studying the view, a smile twitched her lips. She then turned and took in the fireplace, the silk-papered walls, the marble-tiled floor. Plush velvet sofas flanked the fireplace, and a wet bar waited on the other side of the room. Two doors off the living area led to two bedrooms, each with their own bathroom that had televisions set in the shower wall. King-size beds with thick comforters and at least a half dozen pillows.
Wow.
She got out her cell and sent a quick text to Zach. You didn’t have to do this for me.
She paused a moment and then typed another message. Thank you.
* * *
ZACH’S CELL PHONE buzzed while he was on his office phone with a tennis coach who wanted to work with his client. The girl’s father had recently fired the previous coach for being too soft on Lorelei, and the search for a new one had left Zach with a headache. The dad had a list of requirements a mile long, and no one was good enough. Didn’t matter if the coach had taken his last two players to Grand Slam tournaments five years running.
He ended the call with a promise to give him a meeting with Lorelei and her dad in the following week. He put his feet on his desk and leaned back in his chair. While his client showed promise, the problem was her indomitable dad and his unattainable standards. Zach had already bought a bigger bottle of aspirin for the inevitable headaches.
Remembering he had a message on his cell, he picked the phone up from the desk and glanced at the screen. April had made it to the hotel and discovered his gift, then. He smiled and texted back. You’re welcome. Enjoy NYC.
You should be here with me. You’d love it.
He poised his finger above the keyboard, debating how to respond. He may not be able to be there with her, but he could help her have a good time. See you when you get back.
Putting the phone away, he wondered how she’d like the other surprises he had planned for her.
* * *
THE WALK TO the parade route was a lot longer than it had looked in the guidebook she’d purchased before she’d left Detroit. It had seemed like only a couple of blocks, and she could walk it in a few minutes. But the real city blocks stretched farther. Good thing she’d joined the gym and had been working with her trainer to get in better shape.
After the parade, she lingered, glancing into the window displays of the stores that lined the streets. She entered a boutique with a bright pink sign and found it full of items designed for breast cancer survivors. April picked up a bracelet with the word warrior etched into it. It reminded her of Sherri, and she decided to get it for her friend. There was a T-shirt for Page that would definitely make her laugh. She took the purchases to the cash register where a woman with no eyelashes and a bald head was stationed. April held out her hand. “I’m April. Stage 3 breast cancer.”
“Naomi. Stage 1B.”
“They caught it early.”
Naomi rang up the items. “I was lucky. My mom, not so much.” She put the items in a white plastic bag that sported a pink ribbon. “I opened the store with my inheritance, not knowing that the same cancer would touch me, too.”
“It’s a wonderful tribute to her.” April looked at the framed picture on the wall behind the cash register. “She’d be proud of you.”
“Actually she’d be angry I left my job at a big bank.” Naomi gazed up at the picture of her mom. “But then, I usually disappointed her.” She handed the bag to April. “Stay strong.”
“You, too.”
Since getting cancer, she’d met more survivors than she’d ever known before. It was like a sisterhood that drew women together, so she didn’t feel so alone on this journey.
She returned to her hotel room and started the fireplace while she lay on the sofa and read the guidebook, trying to decide what to do next. Most of the items on her list were those she wanted to share with Page once she arrived tomorrow. The thought of going somewhere to get dinner made her feet ache, so she ordered room service and had her meal while sitting in front of the picture window, watching the city lights turn on.
* * *
BANGING ON HER hotel room door roused April from sleep. She squinted at the clock on the nightstand and groaned. She was on vacation, so she shouldn’t have to get up at dawn. She pushed the sheets and blankets off her, then grabbed the hotel-supplied plush bathrobe before walking out into the living space. She wrapped the bathrobe’s belt around her and tied it tight before peering through the peephole.
She blinked and looked again. Opened the door and squealed before throwing her arms around Page and then Sherri. “What are you doing here?”
Page ro
lled her eyes. “Your not-so-secret admirer sent us both on a red-eye flight.” April stood aside so her friends could bring in their luggage. “He didn’t want you to be alone on this trip.”
Sherri whistled as she took in the view. “This is some place. I’ve never stayed in a room this fancy.” She set her suitcase down and immediately headed for the window to get a better look at the city.
“We’re going to have so much fun that New York won’t ever be the same.” April put an arm around Page’s shoulders. “And we’re starting with a day at the spa.”
A few hours later, the three women lay facedown on massage tables in a large room where floral scents drifted in the warm air. April had explained to their massage therapists about their cancer and the need to avoid touching certain areas. And because of her radiation treatments, Sherri couldn’t have any oils applied to her skin.
April closed her eyes as the masseuse used his elbow to dig deep into the muscles between her shoulder blades. She clamped her lips together so she wouldn’t moan. Even if it did feel incredible.
“We have to do this again when we get home,” Page said as her masseuse kneaded her neck. “I used to make fun of Dr. Weber when she said she was going to get a massage after work, but I’m a total convert now.”
“I don’t know. Dez is pretty good at this, too,” Sherri said from the other table.
April smirked. “Sure, rub it in that Agent Hottie is the total package when it comes to being a husband. Some of us aren’t so lucky and are still single.”
“I don’t know. Zach seems to be pretty hung up on you.”
“I’m not sure what he is.” April closed her eyes and thought of Zach. He’d referred to their last dinner together as a date, but he hadn’t phoned her since. Hadn’t invited her to do anything together. That was a week ago. And yet, he’d sent her friends here. Upgraded her hotel room. If anything, she was getting mixed messages from him. Did he want to be with her? Not want to be with her?
“What do you want him to be? That is the better question.”