“Us against the world.”
EPILOGUE
JAMIE
THE WEEK OF JAMIE’S SURGERY
Jamie’s worn black canvas sneakers scuffed across the surface of the damp flagstone pathway leading to Sarah’s front porch. Over the last three years, she had walked the path from the car park to her front door so many times for family dinners, holidays, and, in the past year, since they had started playing pickleball together a few times a week, even the occasional social hangout.
She shifted the small shoebox in her hands, reaching forward to ring the bell. Usually, Jamie would just let herself in, but this wasn’t a planned visit, and the last thing Jamie wanted to do was intrude on Sarah’s time any more than she already was about to.
“Jamie, hey, everything okay?” Sarah’s greeting was cautious, nervous almost, which was understandable given how quickly life had seemed to unfold over the last few weeks since Jamie had received her cancer recurrence diagnosis.
“Hi,” Jamie said a little too quickly. “How are you?”
Sarah’s expression shifted from pleasant surprise to confusion as Jamie lingered on her doorstep, it only now dawning on her that she should say something else since she wasthe one who had shown up at Sarah’s unannounced. She cringed a little, her voice lacking the confidence she wished were there.
“You free for a drink?”
“Now?” Sarah asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Of course, come on in.” She held the door open and Jamie slipped inside. “Your surgery is in a few days. You feeling okay about everything?”
“As okay as I can be.” Jamie shrugged, sliding off her sneakers. Her immediate answer to that question was a bit complicated at the moment, but that was why she was here at Sarah’s in the first place. “So that drink?”
Sarah’s eyes flicked to the shoebox in her hands, but if she had a question, she didn’t ask it. Instead, Sarah led her down the hall to the very last door—a room Jamie had never been in before.
Sarah’s study was impressive. Jamie never really understood what Sarah did for a living after she left her law firm, but with an office like this, she must be pretty good at it. The room was cozy and inviting with warm wood tones, comfortable seating, and a large desk flanked by narrow floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the perfect amount of light.
Jamie took a seat in one of the two armchairs in the middle of the room. She flashed a grin when she caught Sarah’s gaze lingering on the shoebox she had set down on the small coffee table. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll tell you what’s in the box in a little bit.”
“I wasn’t worried.” Sarah smiled reassuringly as she opened a small cabinet. “Pick your poison. I have bourbon, gin, tequila, scotch...”
“Bourbon, please… If that’s what you’re having?”
“I am indeed. I’m really only a tequila person when dancing to ABBA is involved, but this feels like a more serious conversation than that.”
The sound of liquid splashing into a glass filled Jamie’s ears as she let her gaze drift out the window, the outline of the downtown Seattle skyline faintly visible in the distance.
“Here you go,” Sarah said softly, holding a colorful glass out to her—the same handmade glasses Jamie had given her for her birthday the year before.
“So youdouse them,” Jamie teased, her excitement getting the better of her.
“I do. I’ve grown really attached to them and their inconsistencies and variations. I liked what you said about how making them reminded you to roll with what life hands you. We’ve all been practicing that one lately.” Sarah settled into the chair opposite her, angling her body towards Jamie, taking a breath before asking, “Why are you really here?”
Jamie inhaled deeply, catching the scent of vanilla and charred oak as she brought her glass to her lips, taking a sip. The bourbon burned the back of her throat in the best way, the bite of it moving through her entire body. “I need your help. And I hate asking—it’s important to me that you know that—because I’ve watched for three years as you’ve helped everyone around you literally with any little thing that they’ve needed. I’ve always tried not to add to your plate in that way, but here I am asking for a favor.”
The look of concern on Sarah’s face only deepened as Jamie rambled. “Jamie, what’s going on?”
Jamie lifted her eyes to meet Sarah’s, struck by how the light streaming through the windows seemed to make the browns and greens swirl together in a mesmerizing way.
“I’ve always had this feeling. A feeling like I’m not meant to be here for a long time,” she started, reaching for the words that would help Sarah understand. “When I was younger, I operated from such a place of fear that I would run out of time. That fear lit the fire beneath me to push for my goals while I had thechance. It’s what made me such a good competitor because I had nothing to lose. I cared about one thing and one thing only.” She paused, taking a sip from the glass in her hand.
Sarah shifted in her seat, one leg crossed over the other, head cocked slightly as she listened.
“It wasn’t the possibility of dying that scared me so much the first time I got diagnosed with cancer; it was the thought of hurting the few people I let in—Amanda and Kendall in particular. But, in a morbid kind of way, I was almost relieved. Still scared shit-less but relieved that I could finally stop running. I won the race. I beat the clock. I achieved the only thing I wanted in life—to become an Olympian. How twisted is that?”
“Not twisted at all, I think that’s perfectly understandable,” Sarah said, taking a sip of the amber liquid.
Jamie chuckled. “I knew if anyone would understand, it would be you. I’ve always appreciated that about you—you’re realistic. I get why everyone comes to you for thebigthings.”
