Her aunt takes a sip of coffee. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that patient you were asking me about for a while, does it? Vivian? You seemed very invested in her.”
Taylor shifts in the bench. “No.”
“You did good with her, you know that, T.J., right? You acted quickly. She’s alive because of you.”
Butisshe alive?Taylor wants to ask. And she would, if she thought her aunt knew the answer.
Aunt Gigi nods to the green park sign:Sally Baker Playground. “Do you know who Sally was?”
“No.”
“Sally Baker was a little girl who was abducted in the eighties. Uncle Phil once met her; their fathers were physicians together at Mass General. Sally’s mom worked there, too—she was a nurse. Got into a bit of trouble. Anyway, the Bakers ended up moving to New Jersey, and that’s where Sally went missing.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Did they find her?”
Aunt Gigi nods. “It wasn’t a happy ending. My father-in-law still talks about it, about poor Sally and the Baker family. This is my point, though. There are some patients that will stay with you your entire career. That’s normal. That’s a good thing. That means we are still feeling.” Aunt Gigi clutches her heart. “If we didn’t care, we wouldn’t be good nurses. And I’m telling you, Taylor, you’re a good nurse.”
“I thought you said Sally went missing in New Jersey. And it’s not like she was a patient, right? I’m so confused.”
“T.J., you’re not getting the point.Peoplestay with you your entire life. They’ll come and go, but they will always be with you.”
Taylor grimaces. “No, offense, Aunt Gigi, but you have to work on your analogies.”
“Maybe.” She laughs. “But you’re still a good nurse.”
“I’m sorry, Aunt Gigi, I don’t mean to disappoint you, but I just don’t think Iwantto be a nurse anymore.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Taylor exhales slowly. Her aunt can be just as stubborn as her dad. She looks around the park, which has a private feel owing to the fact that it’s tucked between two Beacon Hill streets and bordered by adjacent brick buildings. A blue-and-yellow playground structure occupies one park corner, a swing set the other. A few feet away, in the open area, a little girl wearing a puffer jacketwith rainbow-colored butterflies crouches on the ground, riffling through her backpack. She pulls out fistfuls of LEGO bricks, and finally dumps the backpack upside down to shake out the rest.
Aunt Gigi clears her throat. “Look, I know I haven’t been the best aunt…. I wasn’t there for you enough growing up. I was busy with my own life—not that that’s an excuse. I’m sorry. I really am. I was hoping…I was hoping I could make it up to you, now that you’re living here in Boston.”
Taylor is surprised. She didn’t necessarily feel like her aunt wasn’t there for her growing up; her aunt was just always doing her own thing—first in central Massachusetts, then in Boston. Her dad has insinuated that this is how his sister has always been. But now, something occurs to Taylor. “You weren’t here in Boston when my mom was, right? Not yet? You and Uncle Phil were still in Worcester?”
“No, I was.”
“You were?”
“Yes.”
“Did you two…ever cross paths? Or make plans to meet up?” Taylor frowns; how did she not know this?
“I ran into her on the street once.”
Taylor sits up straighter. “Oh? And?”
“It was brief. I was coming; she was going. I can’t say I remember much, honey. I’m sorry.”
“Was she…?” Taylor doesn’t know what to ask or where to start. Was her mom happy? Was she wearing another sophisticated outfit, like in the photo? Like something Vivian would have worn?Was she missing Taylor and her father?
“Your mom was beautiful. Just beautiful,” Aunt Gigi replies, wistfully, and then adds, “She wasn’t with anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
It wasn’t, in fact. Taylor is aware that there was a man whodied alongside her mom in the basement fire, but she hasn’t let herself really accept what that means on a practical level. And so she avoids thinking about it entirely.
The little girl is now laying a large flat LEGO brick, like a roof, across the four sides she built. Is it a house? A school? Or a spaceship, an escape pod, a portal? When Taylor was young, the possibilities were endless.
Aunt Gigi’s phone beeps, and she looks almost relieved as she pulls it out of her fleece pocket. “That’s Phil,” she says, squinting at her phone. “He can’t find the coffee beans, which are in the same spot they’ve always been. Third shelf in the pantry. I don’t know how he can be a successful medical examiner and yet not be able to find anything around the house. Last week it was the sugar canister he couldn’t find. Not that he needed it. Sorry, hang on.”
