by Lori L. Otto
“Livvy wasn’t like a sister to me,” I interrupt Shea, feeling the need to confess; to spill my emotions to my wife in this moment.
“I know,” she says.
“She wasn’t an object of desire.”
“It’s okay, Will.” She releases me and holds my hands in hers, then leans in to kiss me.
“She was an unobtainable, indescribable, beautiful girl that I was fortunate enough to know and my brother was lucky enough to marry. And I can’t imagine how he feels, because I know how I feel, and it hurts so fucking bad.”
“Oh, Will,” she says, enveloping me into her arms again. “Baby, I know… I know you loved her.”
“I did,” I tell her, pulling away and nodding, tears falling quickly down my face. “I did.”
“It’s okay,” she says, crying, but with a smile. “I did, too. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, Will. That’s what she did to people. And it’s okay.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
“It hurts,” she says. “I know it hurts.”
“But I love you, Shea. So, so much.”
“Will?”
“Yeah?”
“Baby, nothing that’s happened today has me doubting your feelings for me. Understand that now.”
“It shouldn’t.”
“It doesn’t. You have proven your love to me in so many ways. We are good.”
“I couldn’t live without you, Shea,” I crumble into her as more tears find their way out.
“I wouldn’t want to live without you, either. Not a single day. I love you, Will.”
“I love you,” I say again, nuzzling into her hair. “You said the baby made it?” I ask her.
“That’s what they said. He’s a preemie, of course. I’m sure he’ll be in the NICU for weeks, but… there’s a blessing in that… in him, right?”
“It’s hard to look at it that way right now, but… yeah.”
“We should get to the hospital. Your brother’s going to be needing us… and the girls.”
“Wait… how are you feeling?” I ask her.
“I’m fine, baby. Really. Everything feels just like it should. Please don’t worry about me.”
I stand up, then offer her both of my hands to help her.
“Thank you.”
Hand-in-hand we walk back over to the switch that closes the windows. I can’t imagine how long this room will stay closed up now… we may be the last to see it for quite some time. I take a deep breath of the smell of paints that remind me so much of my sister-in-law. I start to cry again as I exhale and realize that smell will always be associated with her, and also that I may never smell these paints again.
Chapter 19
COLEY
In the back of the town car, I slowly thumb through the pictures I’d taken of Livvy just a few weeks ago when we’d met for our spa day. She looked beautiful. Healthy. So happy to be among friends. When she and Shea were together, they were constantly laughing, comparing husbands in jest. “Sister Scott!” They’d always yell that to one another. Now there would only be one Sister Scott, and I’d never heard the phrase shouted without an echo. They were as good as sisters, not only to each other, but to me, too.
I feel like I’ve lost a big sister today. I reach for another tissue–the last one in the box. I wipe my eyes and blot my nose, happy that we’re turning onto 5th.
Two blocks later, we arrive at the loft. For so many years, I used to visit her here. Now, I have to deliver the news of her passing to Callen and Max. I weep quietly to myself, even as the driver holds the door open for me.
“Take your time,” he says.
“Thanks.” After a few deep breaths, I take his hand and get out of the car.
“Miss Coley, I don’t know what’s wrong,” Edgar, one of our regular drivers, says, “but can I offer you a hug?”
“That would be nice, thank you.” He whispers assurances that it will all be okay while he embraces me.
“Shall I wait?”
“No, no.” I wipe my nose once more. “Callen can take me to… yeah… I’m good.”
“If you change your mind, you know how to reach us.”
“Yes, Edgar.” I hand him a generous tip. “I used your last tissue.”
He nods and says goodbye. I sigh, turning into the familiar building.
“Good… morning, Miss Fitzsimmons,” Luis, the concierge, greets me, looking at his watch. “It’s awfully early. Is everything okay?”
I try to wave him off but burst into tears when I look into his kind eyes. He knew Livvy well–would be devastated to know what was happening. I’m surprised Matty didn’t tell him already. He puts his arms around me and takes me into their small office, handing me a box of Kleenex.
“I know something’s going on. Matty left a while ago; then Nolan ran out with his phone to his ear… and now, you show up crying. What happened?”
“It’s awful, Luis, but… you can’t tell anyone. It can’t get out until we tell the family.”
“Oh, Coley, no… what is it?” He knows it’s serious.
“Livvy.” I barely get her name out before the sobs erupt. I fall into him, my arms around his neck. “And I have to tell Max and Callen.”
“Livvy what? Don’t tell me she’s gone, Coley…” He pulls away slightly and I nod my head. His face crumples in sadness. “But I just saw her the other day. She can’t be.”
“I know.” My words are caught in my throat.
He gasps in recognition of her condition. “The baby?”
“I think he’s okay. I don’t know for sure. We all have to get to the hospital.”
“Oh, no. Coley, I am so sorry for your family.”
“I know. Thank you.”
“Let’s get you upstairs. Shall I call the boys and let them know?”
“No, I have the elevator key. I’ll just go up and knock.”
“I won’t tell a soul, but I will start saying prayers for all of you–and especially for Jon and the baby and their little girls.”
“Thanks, Luis.” He summons the elevator for me and stands by the doors until they close me inside. I probably shouldn’t have told him, but I couldn’t pretend everything was fine. And Luis is like family. I remember Livvy cried when she said goodbye to him on the day they moved out.
Once on the 12th floor, I take a seat on the bench in the hallway, trying to find an ounce or two of courage.
Finally, I clutch the box of tissues in one hand and knock with the other–softly, at first, but loudly the second time, when I don’t get a response.
Callen opens the door, dressed in jeans and a tank top, looking as confused as one might expect when they have an uninvited visitor at four-thirty in the morning. “What are you doing here, Coley?”
“Livvy died,” I blurt out, surprised at the way I’ve delivered the news. I gasp and cover my mouth, my eyes wide.
He ushers me inside the loft, taking the box from me and pulling a tissue out to give to me. Tears are streaming, but I feel composed.
“What?” he asks me, shocked.
“She died, Callen. She had a C-section and died before they finished operating on her.” Noticing that Max isn’t in the unmade bed, I look around the otherwise surprisingly clean apartment, walking around the corner to the second living area. “Where’s Max?”
“He’s out.”
“Out? In the middle of the night?”
“Yeah… he needed some fresh air. Come here,” he says, his arms open wide. “I don’t understand, Coles. Why’d she have a C-section? The baby isn’t due until September.” His voice sounds funny.
Callen isn’t the most emotional person, and it hurts to hear him upset; to feel him struggle to breathe normally.
“She woke up Jon telling him she couldn’t calm down. It was her blood pressure again. Just out of control, apparently. And they tried to treat her, but they couldn’t.”
“Holy shit.” He squeezes me tighter. “Holy shit,” he repeats. “She lost the baby?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s something, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to smile through tears.
“How is Jon?”
“I don’t know. We need to go to the hospital. We’re supposed to meet him there. Can you call Max and get him home?”
“He, uh… he’ll be home soon. Why don’t I get you a car so you can get down there? When Max gets home, we’ll meet you. Okay?”
“Just call him, Callen,” I urge him.
“He doesn’t have his phone on him, Coley.”
“Why not? I’m not allowed to take a cab by myself, and Max is out walking the streets at four-thirty in the morning with no way for anyone to get in touch with him? That’s crazy.”
“It’s not that, okay? I’m just trying to shield you from the truth… let’s just leave it at that.”
“Are you guys okay?”
“We’re perfectly fine. He’s close by… as soon as you leave, I’ll get him here. Trust me. But he’d want to be alone to hear this, okay? Just trust me.”
“You’re acting weird,” I tell him.
“I know.” He frowns and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you a car so you can get to the hospital.”
“I’ve got the card for the service here. I’ll call and wait with Luis downstairs. Promise me you’re right behind me?” I plead with him.
“I promise you.” He hugs me again and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay.”
I’m halfway down the elevator as I replay what he said in my mind. I’ll be there soon. Not we. But I.
What the hell is going on with Max?
Chapter 20
CALLEN
After showing Coley out, I go to the windows on the other side of the loft, grabbing the keys that sit on the leather stool that I use as a nightstand. I touch the glass to estimate the temperature outside. Deciding I don’t need a jacket, I head out of the loft, down the hall, past the elevator and out the locked door that leads to the rooftop terrace.
Having gotten used to the heavy metal door at the top of the stairway, I open it quietly and shut it behind me. Max lies on one of the loungers with his headphones on. I’m sure the volume’s up so loud, he wouldn’t have heard me had I banged the door on the brick wall behind it, as most people do who aren’t used to its weight or the lofty winds that often blow at this elevation.
He exhales a puff of smoke as I approach and greets me with a moderately startled, “Hey.” I know he didn’t expect to see me up here. The agreement was that I didn’t want to be an accomplice to him smoking weed, and this was the compromise we’d come up with.
I take one of the teak chairs from the outdoor dining set and pull it next to him, sitting down with my elbows on my knees and leaning into him. He pauses the music on his phone. “Put that out, okay?” I nod to his joint.
He starts to dab it out in the ashtray between us, with the obvious intent of saving it for later. Frustrated, I grab it and toss it in the waterfall to my right.
Max and I had both agreed that this form of self-medicating wasn’t hurting anyone. That it wasn’t something he could get addicted to. I could even appreciate his reasons for doing it–sometimes for pain relief, but tonight, it was another nightmare. Right now, though, I hate that I let him continue doing it when we’d told everyone he quit. Tonight, I have a sinking feeling it’s going to cause a shitload of problems for both of us, and–while he’s the one guilty of smoking the weed–I feel responsible.
My boyfriend takes his headphones off and looks over at me out of the corners of his eyes. I know he’s annoyed, but he also knows how many concessions I’ve made for him to continue doing this. How many lies I’ve told on his behalf.
Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles that charming smile that makes me forget any feelings of frustration or anger. “C’mon, why’d you do that?”
I huff, wanting to be light-hearted with him. To carry on easy banter. To let Max be Max so I can laugh all night and not have to face what’s ahead of me later. I look up at the sky–beyond the sky… is there a heaven? I haven’t been religious since high school, but right now, I wonder if there’s any truth to what we learned in our religion classes, or to what was lectured to me in church on Sundays. Because if there is a heaven, there’s a good chance Livvy’s up there right now watching this. She’s disappointed in Max for smoking this shit. She’s mad at me for not stopping him.
I look down to face him, noticing the blur in my eyes brought on by heavy tears that aren’t brave enough to drop yet.
“Cal, it’s not that big a deal,” Max says.
“You’re about to hate yourself in ways you never have,” I mutter to him. I know him. I know his conscience. It’s worse than my own.
“What do you mean?”
“This… this… this weed shit, Max. I wish we’d kept up with therapy or found another solution. I just wish I’d kept my promise to your brothers… to Liv… especially to Liv.” I look up again, and this time, the tears fall.
“What they don’t know…” He’s not looking at me now. He’s trying to be cocky, but already, I can tell he feels guilty.
“But they’re going to know, babe. Jon? Will? They’re gonna know.”
He turns abruptly. “Why?”
I hold his hand in mine and caress it sweetly, rubbing his palm with my thumb. “We need to go to the hospital.” I nod my head, looking directly into his glassy eyes.
“What? Are they randomly drug testing me now? I don’t think so–”
“This isn’t about you, okay?” I interrupt louder; stern.
“Okay.” He sits up slowly and swivels his feet toward me, setting them flat on the rooftop. “What’s up, Cal? Are you okay?”
Instinctively, we reach for each other’s remaining hand at the same time. This small gesture makes us both smile.
I start to speak but swallow my words. Then sigh. Then shake my head as he waits in anticipation. I have no idea how to deliver this news to him. I’ve never had to tell anyone such a thing.
“Your nephew came early,” I start, deciding to ease my way into it, feeling immediately like a coward when I see his smile grow–when I realize he thinks this is good news.
“Which one?”
“Jon and Livvy’s.”
“Is he okay? He’s way early…”
“I think so… I guess. He was when I got the news from Coley.”
“Okay, good. Then we can go see him later in the morning. I can sleep this off,” he says, shrugging everything away like it’s not a big deal. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Livvy isn’t,” I continue softly.
He doesn’t breathe for a few seconds as he tries to process what I said. “Livvy isn’t what? Okay?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
I look away from him and try my damnedest not to allow any more tears to break free. I have to be strong for him.
“Oh, fuck, Cal. What?” I nod my head subtly, hoping that’s enough of a response. He stands up and shoves me in the chest–not hard, but enough to snap me out of my bleary haze of avoidance. “Yes, what?”
“She’s gone, Max. She died in surgery.”
“Fuck,” he says, his voice wavering as he paces in front of the chairs. “No fucking way.” He looks at the rooftop, watching his bare feet as he walks back and forth. His rubs his injured shoulder, his trademark move of frustration. It replaced the pulling of his hair, which I’d hated–the one I’d seen all of the Scott brothers do so many times we’d make jokes about it. “No way, Callen.”
“Coley was just here–”
“No fucking way, Callen!” he yells at the top of his lungs, ceasing his pacing and putting his hands on his knees as he shouts at me. He turns around and walks to the edge of the building, placing his palms flat against the wall. My heartrate quickens. I hate this. He knows this. He swore he’d quit doing this.
“Stop, Max,” I tell him, walking t
o him quickly and wrapping my arms around him to pull him back. “I’m sorry. It’s the worst news, I know.”
“What next?” He turns into me and cries on my shoulder briefly, then pushes me away. “Who the fuck are you gonna take next?! Huh?” he shouts to the sky above us.
“Don’t ask those questions.” I’m not a superstitious person, but it does feel like a lot of shit has happened recently.
“He takes Mom, just over a year ago,” he starts recounting, as if I need a reminder. “Coley’s dad is fucking murdered protecting the president. Fuck, Isaiah just died earlier this year! And now… why her?” The expression on his face and the pause that follows his question leads me to believe he expects a response.
“I–I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“She’s the best thing that happened to our family. Do you know how fucking different my life would be today if she and Jon had never met? If they hadn’t fallen in love?” I don’t respond, but rather listen to hear more. “I would never have met Trey, and I would never have known you.
“And holy fuck, Callen, what is my brother gonna do without her? She’s been his whole life for 20 years! And the girls… and the baby? Fuck this world!” he shouts again.
“Max…”
“I mean it. Fuck any world that takes someone like her… in the prime of her life. I can’t… I can’t make sense of this shit anymore.”
Even though he’s pushed me away multiple times, I approach him again and embrace him tightly, hating his words and wanting so badly to fix everything that’s been off with him lately. “Max, I love you more than anything in this world. Nothing is ever going to change that. You know I’d do anything for you. Please don’t say things like this, okay? It hurts me. It worries me. It fucking scares me.”
“I’m fine,” he mutters.
“You’re not. I know you’re not, but I will do whatever I have to do to get you there. Do you understand me?” I back away just enough to look into his eyes. The sadness I never used to see when we were younger swells deep within them.
