“Mmm, maybe eventually. But first, Will is going to torture me until I’m begging for forgiveness. Charlie too.”
“Charlie won’t care,” Jonah assured me. And he was right. Charlie was probably more annoyed with Will’s coddling than my absence. Still, I should have been there for him.
We hurried into the store, seeking protection from the cold. “Probably shouldn’t get him booze?” I asked.
Jonah glanced around. “Not from here.”
I suppressed a smile at his inability to tone down his snobbiness when buying alcohol and headed for the floral department. We picked out flowers, balloons, three cards, a stash of candy, his favorite snacks, a get-well-soon cake, three different restaurant gift cards so he could order food while he recovered, and a flat of Gatorade. To be fair, I had no idea about the recovery after surgery to remove your appendix, but hydration felt important.
Sure, Charlie had given up sugar. But this felt like a necessary exception.
“Yikes.” I gasped at the grand total. I’d been too penitent to worry about cost until now.
“Want me to get it?” Jonah asked in a soft voice.
My heart squeezed like it was prone to do. Only this time from panic. Last night had been... And this morning he had been... But... still, this bill was more than I wanted to spend, and Jonah made a ton of money. Okay, not like millions. But he didn’t have to share the profits of his business with his siblings. “Halfsies?”
His lips twitched, but he managed to keep a straight face. “Sure, halfsies.” He looked at the cashier. “Is that possible?”
She punched a series of buttons on her screens. “Whoever wants to pay first can go ahead.”
I was already at the credit card reader, so I pulled out my wallet. My hand shook as I went through the routine. A sick feeling sloshed around in my gut, and I was working on a stress headache.
As much as I wanted to brush this whole debacle off like it wasn’t a big deal, or it was fine that I hadn’t been on call all night... it wasn’t okay. I wasn’t okay.
When my dad died... I took it hard. We all did. I’d lost grandparents before and experienced grief, but not like that. It was as though my life was divided now. Before my dad died, when he was alive and a part of my majority. And then after he died, when his absence could be felt in everything.
My dad was who he was. There was no explaining away his behavior or trying to understand it. I got the least of his assholery because I was the only girl. And the baby. But I wouldn’t have ever called us close. Or called our relationship loving.
Still, he was my dad. And that, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, meant something. A piece of my heart crumbled and fell away from the main body of that delicately beating organ. It might have already been brittle and withered, but I felt the loss deeply. Like losing a whole section of me.
But Charlie. Charlie wouldn’t have been an atrophied muscle that fell off from lack of use. Charlie would have been my whole heart. My soul split down the middle. My important bits and pieces and goodness.
Losing Charlie would have destroyed me.
Jonah nudged me to the side when I was finished paying and then loaded up our haul in the cart. We made it to the car and then to Will’s apartment, but I was lost somewhere between what could have happened and what did happen.
We used the back entrance and carried everything to Will’s apartment. However, a logical part of my brain wondered if we would just have to bring it all back down again later. Oh well, that didn’t matter.
We’d taken too long at the store picking out the perfect balloons, cards, and gift cards, so Charlie, Will, Lola, and my mom were already there. The door had been left ajar for us, so we pushed in, our gifts leading the way.
“We’re here!” I said as brightly as I could manage. Poking my head around the balloons, flowers, and cake, I saw Charlie laid up on the couch like a king. Will was pacing the apartment like a psycho. My mom was making coffee in the kitchen per usual, and Lola was trying to help her. And failing.
Kari English was a strong-willed woman who’d kept her independence despite being married to my dad, raised three successful-ish kids, and was living her absolute best life now that Dad was gone. She didn’t, nor would she ever, need help making coffee.
“Eliza,” my mom said, her tone somewhere between thrilled to see me and disappointed with my behavior. Only moms could pull off that balance so flawlessly.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, Kari,” Jonah echoed, pushing in behind me.
“Jonah,” my mom squealed, no disappointment evident anywhere in her tone. I started setting my things down on the counter while my mom attacked Jonah with a hug and danced around like it was the best day of her life.
Never mind that her only daughter had just arrived. Or that her son had just had surgery. We were all aware Jonah was her favorite.
She wasn’t even shy about it. She always said, “He needs more love than the three of you.” And she was the one who was going to give it to him.
Whatever. It wasn’t like he was the only one with a traumatic childhood.
