I watch her apartment windows for some time until the units next to her start to turn off their lights. I check the time. It’s already eleven.
I send her a quick text.
–Me: I heard you’re sick. If you need anything, let me know.
She doesn’t read it or respond. I sigh.
Probably still mad. But maybe enough time has passed that she’s calmed down a little. Mom usually cools off once she’s thought things through. I hope Aspen’s like that, too, so when I tell her the full truth about the bet, she’ll be able to listen without jumping to the absolute worst conclusion.
But she doesn’t show up on Tuesday…or Wednesday. Leah doesn’t update me. When I contact her, she says Aspen hasn’t called in sick, but maybe she’s too sick to even do that.
–Leah: Sometimes it happens. She lives alone. But I’ll call and see what’s up.
Since Aspen won’t even read my texts, it’s probably the best plan. Unease settles in my gut, though. This situation is an eerie mirror of what happened after Heath and Will streaked, except the circumstances couldn’t be more different. What happened on Saturday wasn’t bad enough to warrant her abandoning Kenny. Hell, she should be here in the office, kicking my ass.
Even as I try to reassure myself, what Kenny said about her being a marshmallow instead of a prickly pear comes back. She’s soft and sweet if she decides you’re worthy of being in her inner circle. I’m not there now, so she won’t let herself be vulnerable to me. She’ll show up at work, pretend nothing’s wrong and do her job, while driving me crazy with her you-don’t-matter-to-me act.
My messenger pings.
–Leah: She’s still sick. She sounds bad. Not as bad as Monday, but still bad.
Okay… So she’s just still sick…and she doesn’t want to deal with me because she isn’t reading my texts. Fine. I’m not going to hound a sick woman like some asshole.
By Thursday, I receive a case of the jam I asked for. I take a jar—since the security at her apartment is crap, and I don’t want to risk having the entire case stolen—and leave it outside her door with a note on the lid.
I’m sorry about everything. Can we please talk?
–G
She ignores me—or maybe she didn’t see the jam and note. Neither possibility is good. She doesn’t come in on Friday, either. Now I’m outright alarmed. I contact Leah again.
–Me: What’s up with Aspen?
–Leah: Still down. She said she has some stomach bug, which can get nasty.
Butfive days?
It pisses me off that Leah’s so blasé about Aspen’s situation. She lives alone. She could need somebody.
I attend all the morning and lunch meetings, but my mind’s only half there. I can’t quit worrying about Aspen, but can’t figure out how to reach out to her, either. She won’t respond to calls or texts, and she doesn’t answer the door when I go by. Her lights are always off—I literally don’t even know if she’s home.
By six, another possibility strikes me. Something could’ve happened to Kenny. Aspen is intensely private about her life and Kenny, and she might’ve lied about being sick while taking care of her grandfather because she knows HR will convey whatever she tells them to me.
I immediately get to my feet and start to head out.
Larry jumps from his desk. “I need just a couple of minutes to wrap up the due diligence!”
Due diligence on what?I don’t remember, and I don’t care. “Email me,” I say as I trot to the elevator.
I can feel everyone’s eyes. They’ve never seen me run in the office. I’ve never had to.
I call the Orange Care Center as I reach the lobby.
“Hello, this is Gi-Hoon at the Orange Care Center. How can I help you?” a pleasant male voice says.
I try to speak, but my throat’s too dry. I swallow. “This is Grant Lasker. I’m calling regarding Kenny Hughes. I’m a family friend, and I swung by a couple of times.”Please tell me he’s fine. I don’t know what Aspen will do if anything’s happened to him.
“Oh.” That one syllable rings with sympathy.
