I pull my collar tighter as I head up the steps of Worth’s town house. It’s good to get a break from being in the hospital all the time over the last two weeks. I need to recharge.
It’s been a while since the six of us were all together. Through the course of this year, a lot has changed. Even Worth’s town house is now Worthand Sophia’stown house. But my friendships with my five best friends feel as steady as ever. Nothing can shake what the six of us have built together.
“It’s really good to see you, my friend,” Worth says as he opens the door. Alongside me, Worth is probably the most serious of the group. But he’s also intuitive. And such an intense welcome is just what I need.
“It’s good to see you too.” I mean it. It’s times like this that I realize how strong our bond is.
We bundle inside and the chatter of my friends’ voices tells me I’m not the first to arrive.
“How is your father?” Worth asks.
“He’s off the ventilator.”
“Breathing by himself. That’s good.”
I’m not suregoodis how I’d describe my father’s condition. Bleak would be more accurate.
We step into the drawing room. Apparently everyone arrived before me. Being the last to arrive is usually Byron’s role. We greet each other with hugs and handshakes, and people retake their seats on the dark red oversized couches either side of the fireplace.
Worth hands me a glass of red wine and gestures for me to sit opposite him. There’s three of us on one couch, three on the other. Soft music plays in the background and all I register is that it’snotFleetwood Mac. It’s not the song the woman was singing when Iris and I danced together.
I take a sniff of the wine. “Malbec?”
“That Argentinean one from one of Efa’s brothers-in-law’s vineyard” Bennett says.
“Have we met this brother-in-law?” Fisher asks Bennett.
“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he replies. “Maybe—oh no, definitely, because this is the American one.”
“Oh yeah, Vincent.”
“Vincent Cove? That’s Efa’s brother-in-law?” I ask.
“One of them,” Bennett says.
I sit back on the couch and feel my body unlock, as if it realizes it’s out of danger and my adrenaline and cortisol can return to normal levels now that I’m here. Among friends.
“I’ve missed this,” I say.
“We’ve missedyou,” Bennett says.
“Don’t get soppy on me, Bennett,” I say, and raise my glass.
“What’s going on with your dad?”
I let out a long sigh. “He can’t speak,” I say. “Not really. He can’t walk. He can’t feed himself.” Seeing him today was hard. Physically, he looked like my father—a little less put together and like he’d aged ten, twenty years. He still looked like Mr.Alden. But his spirit wasn’t there. It was like there was a newborn baby occupying his body. It had been horrifying.
My mother fussed over him in a way I’d never seen before. She plumped his pillows and offered him spoonfuls of ice cream. She brought him his iPad and switched off the television, which must have been left on by one of the hospital staff. She talked to him like he was talking back to her. She told him about the weather and bits and pieces of gossip from her social circle.
It brought with it pieces of memories. Maybe they were like this with each other when I was younger? Recent memories are of my father and me talking about business and my mother chastising me for being single. It’s as if my relationship with both of them has become more distant as I’ve gotten older.
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” Worth says, and everyone else offers their support in their mutterings.
“They say he should make some quick gains in the next few weeks. More over the next few months.” I don’t mention what the doctors said about risks of a second stroke and how his age will make recovery a more difficult path.
“That’s good,” Byron says.
I nod, trying to seem positive.
