Page 13 of Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

“She’s lucky to have him,” I say, meaning it but also because I feel like I have to say something.

“She is. So are you going to see him again?”

I jerk at her question and start shaking my head even though she can’t see me.

“I don’t think so. Oh wait, I will when they come back in for the six-week follow-up.”

Six weeks.

I’ll see him again.

“That’s good. He really is such a great guy.”

I don’t say anything because I wouldn’t know. I just let out a hum, and she continues.

“Speaking of follow-up, Reid and I had an appointment with the OB this morning, and she says the baby is the size of a large banana or a cantaloupe. Isn’t that exciting? I found a comparison picture on the internet and sent it to Reid. He was not as impressed as I was.”

I laugh. Leave it to Camille to change the mood of the room. It’s the Southern in her, and I love her for it.

“I think that’s exciting.”

“Exactly. Listen, I have to run. Reid cooked dinner.” I can hear his deep voice in the background, but not his words. I smile at the thought of him laboring over a meal for her. It’s cute.

“Yum. Tell him hi for me.”

“Will do.”

With that, she’s gone.

Moving through my house, I head to my office to find my laptop. Just thinking about them, I’m reminded of something I’ve never done before. I’m kind of ashamed of it, but at the same time, not really. From Vivi’s chart, I wrote down Jonah’s address. I don’t know why it feels like an invasion of their privacy, but I was thinking about dropping by and bringing them something at the time.

That is until I got the flowers.

Until I felt weird.

Opening the laptop, I google Jonah Dallmann and flip to the images page. Sure enough, there to be preserved forever are pictures of him from that morning after at the airport, the funeral, and others.

All this time, I thought I had been stood up.

All this time, I had filed away the memory as just an incredible one-night stand.

All this time, I tried not to resent him for leaving me waiting even though I have.

I know he didn’t have my number. It’s not like he could have called to let me know he wasn’t coming, but I always knew he could have gotten it if he really wanted it.

Now I feel selfish.

Now I feel like a shrew.

Did it cross my mind that something had happened to him? Yes. But instead of reaching out, I tucked my tail, licked my wounds, and assumed the worst. Meanwhile, he’d been dealing with the most horrific thing.

Flipping through the pictures, I see a lot of him playing football, but others are interspersed. From my cold black desk chair, I get a montage of the biggest loss of his life.

The photo that breaks me the most is one of them at the gravesite, and he’s holding Vivi, who’s younger and openly crying. Camille meant it when she said that a lot of the team flew to Boston for the funeral, as they were all standing in the background. And they were getting ready to start the playoffs and knee-deep in practices and meetings that year.

To think, all this happened just days after we were together, and I could have been there for him too. If only I’d set my stubbornness aside, called Camille, and asked for his number. She would have told me everything. I know she would have. Instead, all this happened, and I knew nothing.

The doorbell rings, startling me, and I slam the lid shut, feeling somehow caught.