I plucked the phone from her fingers and walked into the lobby. The line rang for a few seconds before Colonel Joseph Conklin answered with a rough, irritable, “Yes?”
“Joseph,” I said like he was a med student who didn’t know how to keep the field sterile. “Hi. Whitney Aldritch. You were due to meet my sister Brie an hour and a half ago.”
A nasally sound came across the line that placed him squarely in the category of gross, rude man. “About that,” he said. “Plans changed.”
“Then you are not in Boston,” I said, every single word sharper than a scalpel.
“No.” I could almost see the arrogant shake of his head. “We’ll do it some other time.”
“And you didn’t find it necessary to mention that to her?” When his only response involved more sinus production, I continued. “Allow me to make one thing clear and two things certain, Joseph. There will not be another time. This was your chance—yourlastchance—and your choices tonight haveforeclosed the possibility of any future contact with Brie. Do not call her. Do not propose future visits. Do not send others to contact her. Should you find yourself in need of a kidney, the lobe of a liver, some bone marrow, I suggest you look elsewhere. She’s finished with you. Understood?”
Another nasally inhale and then the jackass hung up on me.
I scowled at the phone. “Lazy son of a bitch.” Behind me, I heard a watery sniffle. I turned around to find Brie with tears streaming down her face and both hands filled with crumpled napkins. My stomach flopped down to my feet. “I know you wanted to build a relationship with him but if you heard what he?—”
She barreled toward me, her arms wrapping around me. Her hard head connected with my sternum with enough force to steal my breath and make me drop her phone. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I know I couldn’t have done that.”
She sobbed into my shoulder for several minutes while everyone in the bar and lobby shot awkward glances at us. A very kind bellhop picked up her phone, dusted it off with a handkerchief, and handed it back to me with the kind of gracious smile that everyone else could’ve learned something from.
Then, when she was out of tears to cry, she pressed her palms to her eyes and said, “I need to get out of here. I want to buy something pretty that I don’t need and then scream at some TVs in a sports bar or something.”
I could only blink at her. I understood the retail therapy but she lost me at the sports bar. I didn’t like sports bars. Not my vibe. And I’d never known them to be her vibe either. But— “Sure.”
She held out her hands like she was forcing away the negativity of this night. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, but I really want to be alone now.”
With that, she marched through the lobby and onto the sidewalk, instantly fading into the evening foot traffic. Still, I stared after her for a minute. I didn’t want to stay here any longer, but I just felt like I needed to exist inside this moment, this awful fucking moment, before I could do anything else. I had to feel the disappointment and the abandonment and the unfortunate vindication since I’d been right about this from the start.
But then I realized Brie had left her coat here, and the only emotion I could wrap my hands around was frustration. It was an especially cold December night and if the temperatures hadn’t already dipped below freezing, they would soon.
I fired off a text letting Brie know I had her coat and I’d be at Meri’s place for a bit if she wanted to pick it up. I waited a few minutes, staring at the vodka soda I hadn’t touched. I didn’t remember why I’d ordered it. Probably to have something to do with my hands or my mouth when our father made his appearance.
It was funny that I’d never thought beyond that moment. Hadn’t scripted out a conversation in my head. Hadn’t practiced any disinterested stares or planned an exit.
It was almost like I’d known he wouldn’t come.
When she didn’t respond—and I didn’t blame her for that even if I was perturbed about the coat—I rounded the corner to the new-construction high-rise where Meri lived. She liked crisp, open, and new, whereas I leaned toward small, cozy, and old.
“I was about to send out a search party,” she said, holding open her front door.
I held up the coat. “Brie left in a slight whirlwind.”
“Much like a Tasmanian devil,” she murmured. “Come on. Get in here. Have some of this cheese before I eat it all. Wine? The answer is yes, you need wine.”
I let her fuss over me, pulling off my coat and leading me to the best corner of her sectional, pouring an overfull glass of wine and fixing me the perfect plate. With my heels kicked off and a gorgeous blanket tucked around my lap, I said, “This might make me a terrible person, but I think it was for the best that he didn’t come.”
Meri propped her feet on the ottoman. “You’re not a terrible person,” she said, holding up her glass for a clink, “and I happen to agree with you.”
“It’s not that I’m happy she had to go through this or I didn’t want her to have a relationship with him.”
“You just knew it would never end up the way Brie imagined it,” Meri said. “You have a different perspective on this than she does. She has glimmers of hope while you have?—”
“An unrelenting awareness of all the ways life will invariably disappoint you.”
Meri drew in a breath. “Sure, let’s go all the way into those deep, dark pits. I might need something stronger than malbec for that, but let’s do it.”
I waved her off with a laugh, saying, “Nope, I’m done with the deep, dark pits for tonight. I don’t want to spend any more time in the pits.”
She snagged a slice of cheddar from my plate. “Then can I ask if you’ve taken my advice with your best man? Is he blowing out your back day and night?”
