by Sarah Grimm
“That could happen here, honey. You know that as well as I do.”
“I just think you should wait for the next group tour.”
Emma hooked a finger in the top of the pamphlet and pulled it down. The pain and regret in Alison’s eyes was horrible to see. “Al—”
“Here you go!” The return of the travel agent stopped their conversation cold. Which was probably a good thing. It wasn’t like Alison actually needed the reminder that six months was too long to wait, any more than Emma wished to give voice to it. “Sign here, here, and here.”
With that done, Emma accepted the handshake from the agent. “Congratulations, Ms. Travers. I hope you have a wonderful trip.”
“Thank you.” Stuffing everything into her leather satchel, Emma gently took hold of Alison’s elbow and exited the travel office.
“Don’t be mad,” Alison stated the moment they were outside.
“Why would I be mad?”
“It’s just… I worry about you and…I wanted to be able to do this with you.”
“I know, honey. I’m not mad, honestly.”
“Then why are you steering me around in a way reminiscent of how mom did when she was mad?”
“I’m not—”
Alison raised a brow.
Emma let out a long breath and released her arm. She stopped walking and stood at the edge of the crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. Closing her eyes, she tipped her face to the spring sun.
“Talk to me, Em. Why is this trip something you’re suddenly in a hurry to make? I mean, you can’t even wait a week? You have to leave tomorrow?”
She sighed, blinking her eyes open, then using her hand to shade them from the sun. “I don’t know. I guess… tomorrow just feels like the right time.”
“You seriously think I’m going to believe that?” Alison dug through her purse until she located a pair of sunglasses, which she promptly pushed at Emma. “Try telling that to someone who hasn’t known you for as long as I have.”
Emma pushed the sunglasses into place and thought about her answer. Alison was right, they’d known each other too long for her to accept the simple answer. The thing was, she wasn’t exactly sure how to explain why she felt it was time to go. Oddly enough, being a cancer patient—having to face chemo and radiation, doctor appointments and hospital stays—had given her a sense of purpose. Without it or her job to occupy her time, she was plagued by a strange sense of loneliness.
Last night’s conversation with Joe certainly didn’t help. She’d gone to bed feeling lonelier than ever.
“What are you running from?” Alison asked softly. Her teeth worried her lower lip as a frown creased her forehead.
“What aren’t I running from?”
The little frown didn’t lighten. “Running away from it won’t change the outcome. It never does.”
Emma had to smile. “Waxing philosophical?” She shrugged. “Facing it head on doesn’t always make a difference, either.”
As the walk light clicked on, they both stepped into the crosswalk.
“I’m just surprised. You’re not normally a runner.”
“I prefer not to look at it as running, just changing up the scenery.”
“And you’re sure you can’t wait a week before bringing about this change of scenery?”
The clawing pain in her head told her the time to travel was now. Sure, the fact that she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night most likely had a lot to do with it but, even so, this made two headaches in two weeks. They were getting more and more frequent. “I’m sure.”
“Fine,” Alison said as she opened the door to their favorite restaurant. “I may not be able to change your mind about leaving tomorrow, but I can damn well take you to the airport. No arguments.”
“I would like that.”
“Good. Now let’s get you some food. You’re looking a little pale today.”
Food helped to appease The Monster so that by the time Emma arrived home, she was in better spirits. Jim, her building’s lobby attendant, promptly greeted her when she walked in. “Good afternoon Ms. Travers. Ms. Willows.”
Since Alison had plans for the evening that couldn’t be changed, she’d decided to accompany Emma home and help her pack a bag. Something small that included only the essentials, designed to make moving from city to city and country to country easier. Following Emma through the door, she nodded at Jim and signed the visitor’s log.
“How has your day been so far?” Emma asked, as she slipped the key into her mail box and palmed her mail.
“Just fine.”
“Good.”
“Um, Ms. Travers?”
Already half-way to the elevator, Emma looked back at him. “Yes?”
“You received a delivery today that was ah…too large for the closet?” As he spoke, he motioned at the closet where most deliveries were locked until a resident picked them up. “So I let them deliver to your place. I went in with the delivery men to make certain they didn’t touch anything.”
“Ooh,” Alison murmured. “What did you order?”
“I haven’t ordered a thing. Are you sure the delivery was for me?”
“Absolutely, Ms. Travers.”
Wait, was that a smirk on his lips? “Jim?”
The cart bell rang, signaling a resident needed help unloading their car. “I need to get that. Have a wonderful afternoon, ladies.”
He was definitely smirking as he grabbed a cart and headed off.
Alison let out a little laugh as they stepped into the elevator. “That was odd.”
“Very.”
“You can’t think of anything you ordered?”
“Nothing that would cause that smirk on his face. Tell me you saw it, too.”
“Oh, I saw it.”
The elevator stopped and the doors slid open. Passing through, they came to Emma’s door. A turn of the key, a twist of the knob and they were both inside.
“Ho-ly shit.” Alison moved farther into the room, turning in a circle, taking it all in.
Emma stood frozen in place, her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the sight before her. Her heart took a hard leap.
Someone had bought out the entire city’s supply of sunflowers. They were everywhere she looked. Vases upon vases of bright yellow sunflowers covered every available surface in her living room.
“Holy shit, Em. Someone likes you. A lot!”
Only one person she knew could have pulled this off. “More like someone is groveling.”
“It’s so beautiful. Like a sea of sunshine.”
A sea of sunshine. In spite of everything, Emma felt herself soften. “Nice touch, asshole.”
“Wait, you know who these are from? How do you know? You haven’t even looked at the card?” Alison made her way to the largest vase, strategically placed in the center in the room. “How can you call someone who did something so sweet an asshole?”
“They’re from Joe,” Emma said as Al pulled the card from its envelope. “And believe me, he earned the title.” She stuck her nose in the closest vase and inhaled. “What does it say?”
Alison stared at her.
“What?”
“The card is completely blank except for two words written in the middle. ‘The Asshole’.”
Emma laughed as she carried a vase across the room and set it on the mantel, just below her angel sketch. “Yup, it’s Joe.”
“Joe? As in Joe-sex-on-two-legs-Campbell?”
She laughed again. “That would be the one.”
“What are you not telling me? Why is Joe Campbell sending you… Jesus, there have to be fifty vases of flowers here! That concert was like ten days ago.”
“Two weeks ago,” Emma corrected, pulling her cell phone from her pocket and taking a shot of the vase on her mantel. With the press of a button, the photo was sent.
“Who did you just send that to?” Alison wove her way through the room, snatching the phone from her hand before Emma could put
it away. “You’ve got his phone number? Emma Mae Travers you’d better start talking.” The broad smile on her face softened her command. “I’m going to take a wild stab here and say your act of desperation paid off. He called you, didn’t he?”
Emma couldn’t contain her own smile. “Yes. We’ve spoken four times since then.”
Alison shook her head, her eyes full of wonder. “This is amazing. You never said a thing.”
“I was…getting used to the idea.”
“You were hoarding him. Not that I blame you.”
Emma gave a rough laugh as she crossed to another vase. The flowers smelled sweet, like candy, but she had to get her nose up close. “You make it sound like I have him tied up in my closet.”
“Do you?”
“Of course. I let him loose this morning just long enough to order me flowers. A girl needs to feel important, you know.”
“Looks to me like you’re pretty important to him.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Emma said softly.
Alison sat on the couch and attempted to prop her feet on the coffee table, which was impossible due to the vases littering the top. She gave up, crossing her legs instead. “So, Joe’s groveling, which is what you said the flowers were for. That means he hurt you.” She fell silent, studying Emma for a moment. “Is he who you’re running from? Because I’ve got to tell you, Em, if a man cared enough about having hurt me that he filled my house with flowers? Well, I’d be running toward that man, not away from him.”
April 4
I can’t sleep. My mind is whirling and bouncing around like a kid on a sugar high. My heart is racing. It’s two o’clock in the morning and I’m staring at the ceiling of my bedroom, thinking it’s going to take an act of God to get me to relax. Last night was the Blind Man’s Alibi concert, and not only did my dream of seeing Joe Campbell, live and in the flesh, come true, I got to meet him. One thing to note: he is nothing, and everything, like I imagined he would be.
I expected him to be more beautiful in person than any medium could suggest. He was.
I expected him to be confident and a tad arrogant. He was that, too.
What I never expected, and was wholly unprepared for, was how lost he seemed.
Sad.
Lonely.
Adrift.
Sure he hid it well, but I have the unique advantage of not only being sick, which makes me more aware of the people around me, but of being an outsider to his world. I looked into his eyes and all that nonsense about being able to see into someone’s soul began to make sense.
We talked for hours. I can honestly say I have never felt such an intense connection to another person in such a short amount of time. I ached as I walked out of the stadium and away from him. It wasn’t an extension of my total fan girl obsession with Joe Campbell the rock star but, instead, a visceral reaction to Joe Campbell the man.
He felt something, too, for he invited me back tonight – his last night in Cleveland.
No matter how tempting the offer, how desperately I want to see him again, I don’t dare go. His lost soul calls out to me. Tempts me to show him what I’ve only just begun to learn myself: How to embrace life.
Something that can’t be taught in one night.
Yet one night is all it could ever be.
Number of days since I decided to live: 43
Number of days until Blind Man’s Alibi concert: 0
Current level of panic: 6/10
SIX
April 18
Somewhere in the distance a phone rang. A shrill, persistent tone just loud enough for her to hear it, yet soft enough she couldn’t tell from what direction the sound came. The fog surrounded her, consumed her, causing her limbs to feel heavy and weak. It was dark. So dark.
A sense of urgency swelled within her. She had to get to that phone, no matter what it took. She never questioned the why, because the urgency was there, twisting and spinning at the back of her mind. Until the pain smothered it.
So. Much. Pain.
The Monster.
Run. Run away. Hide.
She didn’t have the strength to fight.
She gave herself up to the fog. Surrendered to the darkness.
Emma lay in bed, ignoring the nagging ring of her phone. It didn’t matter who kept calling her. Nothing mattered until her mind cleared and she could reacclimate to her surroundings.
It was always like this after having to use her injection to chase The Monster away. A struggle to quiet the panic enough to allow her heart to settle. An even bigger one to figure out how much time she’d lost.
Opening her eyes, she blew a sigh and chose the fastest way to get her answers. “Hello?
“There you are.” Joe. At least she still had enough brain cells to recognize his voice. Then again, he was pretty hard to forget. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
She blinked to clear her vision. When nothing came into focus, she stretched out her arm and turned on the lamp. There, that was better. There was nothing wrong with her eyes except the shadowed darkness of night. “What day is it?”
“What day? Sunshine, did you go on a bender tonight or something?”
Or something. She’d spent an untold number of hours under the influence of some pretty heavy duty narcotics. “Is it Saturday or Sunday?”
“Saturday.”
Saturday. That was a good sign. Saturday was the day she’d bought her tickets for a tour of Europe, and laughed over lunch with Alison. “What time?”
“Half past eleven in the evening, my time. What’s going on with you? Are you okay?”
She should do something to allay the fear in his voice but, it was still too soon. She’d yet to alleviate her own worry. “I’m okay, I…just give me a minute. It takes a minute.”
“What takes a minute? Emma, do you need me to ring someone for you?”
“I’m okay,” she repeated. “Call me back in ten minutes.” Ten minutes was all she needed to pull herself together. “Ten minutes, Joe. Please.”
He was silent a moment¸ like he was thinking about it. “Okay. I’ll ring you in ten minutes, but if you don’t pick up…just make sure you pick up the phone.”
“I will. I’m fine.”
“Right. Fine.”
“It’s just…ten minutes and I’ll explain.”
Emma waited just long enough for Joe to concede, then disconnected. She pressed her fingers against her closed eyelids and stretched, testing her muscles. It took a focused effort to get them to move. With a grimace, she rolled off her bed, landing with a thud on her hands and knees beside it. Not exactly her most graceful moment, but hey, at least now she was fully awake.
Good God, she’d never had that much trouble pulling herself out of the drug’s clutches before. Climbing to her feet, she stumbled to her bath. A splash of cold water helped the gritty feel of her eyes, and a toothbrush the nasty taste in her mouth. Making her way to her bed, she relaxed in a semi-upright position, her back supported by a jumble of pillows.
Emma had barely gotten comfortable when her cell ping-ponged. She pressed the button and accepted, then fumbled the phone in alarm as Joe’s face appeared on her screen.
“Shit!” Her expletive was immediate and automatic. Her mind still fuzzy, she hadn’t recognized the difference in ringtone or paid much attention when accepting the call. Which is how she suddenly found herself in a video chat.
She was barely dressed, certainly in no condition for Joe to see her. Thankfully, her phone landed face up, giving him a view of her pristine white ceiling, and not much else. With a breath to center herself, she picked it up.
If she thought she’d prepared herself to see him, actually see him, she was wrong. The missing him had been bad enough with only his voice in her ear. Now, it was a growing ache inside of her. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself. You want to tell me what that was all about?”
She was staring. She knew she was staring, but was helpless to stop. His mismatched eyes and
overlong hair. Those lips circled by his short-trimmed beard. God, it was like being punched in the stomach, and all she could do was try to catch her breath.
“Emma?”
What had he asked her? Oh, right. “I dropped the phone.”
“Before that. The first time you picked up.”
Emma shrugged. “I was asleep. Couldn’t wake up.”
“And the first time I called? Were you sleeping then, too?”
“Did you call earlier today?”
“Yeah, before the show.”
That would explain the weird feeling of having struggled to pull herself from quicksand only to fail. “Yes. I…vaguely remember a ringing phone.”
Joe cocked a brow at her. His dark hair fell into his face and her fingers itched with the impossibility of reaching through the screen to brush it back. “You sleep that soundly?”
“Not normally.” Since her lungs appeared to be working correctly again, she drew a deep breath to steady herself. “I get headaches sometimes. Pretty severe ones. The medicine I take for them usually knocks me out for hours.”
“You had one of these headaches today?”
“I did.”
“Which is why you needed ten minutes. Because I woke you and you weren’t sure what day it even was?” Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “Sounds like some pretty potent stuff.”
“It is.”
“Is your headache gone now?”
There was an underlying note of concern in his voice. Emma smiled, and did her best to reassure him. “Yes, it’s gone. I’m glad you called. Although you did catch me off guard with the whole video chat thing. That’s a first.”
“You worried me with the whole ‘what day is it’ thing.”
“I suppose that would be a bit unsettling.”
“A bit, yeah.” His eyes dropped, lingered on her lips, then made a slow leisurely journey across the rest of her face. “Look at you. Christ, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered.”
