“Well, what are we supposed to do? We’ve tried everything.”
I don’t stop pacing. Not even when the oven timer goes off, not when Jane calls everyone to the table, nor when Austin asks me what’s wrong.
“I have to go to him.”
Jane sighs. “Sage, come sit down.”
When I ignore her and continue pacing, Charlotte walks over to me and puts her arms around me. “I know you really care about him. But he needs time.”
I shake my head. I thought so too, but now, I don’t think he does.
“He’s had a month, Char. I think something is wrong.”
“The doctors said it could take weeks or even months for his headaches to go away. Maybe he just doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s suffering more than we know.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But neither do you.”
“I’ve got to go.”
I inhale deeply and walk out of the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” hollers Jane.
“To Los Angeles.”
Austin pushes away from the table and chases after me.
“I’ll come with you.”
But I shake my head as I slip on my sandals. “No. Just me. If there’s too many of us, it may overwhelm him.”
“You can’t go all that way by yourself.”
I snort. “I’ve been doing things by myself for most of my adult life.”
The words are harsh, but I mean them as a reminder to myself and my friends. I’ve been on my own for more than a decade, and while I appreciate everything my friends have done for me, I’ve always had to figure things out on my own. And now I figure I need to see what’s going on with Casey because in my heart, something isn’t right.
“Let me get you a driver to the airport,” says Caleb.
But I’m already one foot out the door. “I’ll be fine. I’ll call you every couple of hours to let you know that I’m okay, but I need to do this alone.”
“Be careful,” says Charlotte.
“I will.”
I drive back to my apartment to pack a small bag and book a very expensive last-minute flight to L.A.
The drive to the airport is about an hour. I spend most of the time scolding myself for not figuring this out sooner, not asking more specific questions of my friends, basically not doing more.
At the airport, I grab a coffee. I skipped dinner, but I’m not hungry.
“That’ll be $2.50, ma’am,” says the cashier. I tap my credit card on the machine and grab my coffee.
While waiting at the gate with a small bag and a small coffee, I put in my ear buds and press shuffle on my travel playlist. A song comes on and it immediately brings me back to road trips with my parents. I can hear my mother’s voice from the front seat singing along to “Big Yellow Taxi”.
