When we reached the door, Travis had to take the keys from my hand to open it. My hands were shaking, partially from all the drinking and partially from pure nerves. I'd almost expected Wren to be there when we walked in, but she wasn't. I took a deep breath and was disappointed that the air didn't smell like her.
"We should figure out where she might have gone," I announced to no one in particular as I strode purposefully towards her bedroom door. I was relieved to find that her bedroom did smell like her. I gasped in as much of the air as humanly possible.
Matty and Travis both squeezed in the small bedroom with me. With all three of us in there, the room seemed to shrink in on itself. I ran a hand over Wren's bed. She hadn't made it before she'd left. I wondered whether she'd slept in it Monday night or if she'd left straight away after the restaurant. Rose hadn't been sure. I dropped down on the bed and did my best to imagine her laying there next to me. If I closed my eyes and kept breathing in her scent... I could almost convince my intoxicated brain that she was really there.
The sound of papers being shifted around brought me out of my simple fantasy. "Should we be rifling through all of this stuff?" I overheard Matty whispering.
"Probably not," Travis answered back quietly, "But doesn't it kind of feel like we're running out of options? Carter's right. We need to figure out where she could be."
I smirked to myself. It was nice to know someone thought I was right about something. I turned my head and discovered a picture frame sitting on the small nightstand. It was of me—well, Wren and me. I stared at it for so long that I started to lose concept of time.
"Carter."
We looked so happy together. I knew my mom had snapped a picture of us that night at dinner, but I'd had no idea Wren had gotten a copy of it. Wren's eyes were sparkling with amusement as my head was thrown back in laughter over something she'd said. It was funny how that picture felt like another lifetime for us.
"Carter," Travis said more insistently.
I sat up and snapped, "What?"
"Look." He held out a scrapbook. It was just a plain black thing on the outside. It didn't look like anything special. Travis' wide eyes told a different story. I took it reluctantly.
The very first page made me worry I was going to be sick. It was a close up of Wren and some guy, and they were smiling at each other. It looked so much like the picture of her and me. I raised the scrapbook in my hand, fully prepared to chuck it across the room.
"Don't," Travis warned. "Keep looking."
I flipped to the next page as aggressively as I could. The scrapbook was the only thing available to take my anger out on.
When I saw the next picture, though, I started to regret it. The same guy from the first picture was sitting up in a hospital bed. It looked like he had half a dozen cords hooked up to his body. Wren was sitting in a chair pushed all the way up against the side of the bed. It looked like they were playing cards or something. Somehow, despite the stark hospital walls, neither of them looked upset. A niggling doubt was planted in my head for the first time.
Quickly, I flipped to the next page. Another hospital shot.
On the next page, the two of them outside on a bench surrounded by green grass. In the background, you could still see the silhouette of a hospital building.
I turned through several more pages of pictures like those before I came across something startlingly different. Wedding photos. There were only a few, and they looked like maybe someone had taken them with a cell phone because a couple them were pretty blurry. In one, Wallace stood proudly between the two newlyweds.
There was only one more page left. I glanced up at the guys, who were looking everywhere in the room but at me. They already knew what I was about to find, and that somehow made it harder. I took the plunge and flipped one more page.
Horrified, I stared down at the newspaper clipping. The thin paper was worn as if someone had rubbed it between their fingers. It was an obituary.
25
Wren (flashback)
"Mama, you shouldn't be doing that," I scolded her.
She waved me away with a huff. She'd been doing that a lot lately. It didn't help that on top of her not feeling well she'd been dealing with my near constant presence. School was on summer break, so she couldn't rely on that anymore to get rid of me for a while. I did my best not to annoy her, but the sicker she got the less patience she seemed to have. Every time I asked her how she was feeling she would glare at me.
"I can stand up and go to the damn bathroom by myself," she muttered. I knew she hadn't meant for me to hear her.
My mom hated feeling so helpless, and I couldn't blame her for resenting it. She'd spent sixteen years of my life being a better mom than I ever could have asked for. She wasn't perfect, she didn't show up for school PTA meetings or do normal parent things like setting curfews. That hadn't really mattered anyway since I prided myself on being a pretty straight-and-narrow kid.
The two of us were a team—or at least we had been. Ever since she'd gotten sick she'd become obsessed with wanting us to each do things on our own. I had my suspicions that she was trying to spare me the worst of her sickness.
"I think I'll go for a walk." I stood up, trying not to feel hurt by the relieved expression that crossed her face.
She did manage to turn and offer up a genuine smile. "Hoping to run into that cute boy down the hall?"
"Mom!" I shrieked. My cheeks instantly heated.
"Take your time," she said with a wink. I knew she wasn't kidding. She would have been fine with me wandering the hospital for hours if it meant no one around asking her if she was okay every five minutes.
The guy down the hall was cute, but he made me nervous. Every time I'd passed him in the halls I could feel his eyes on me. I'd dated a few boys at school, but I never felt like I had anything in common with any of them.
Mom always teased me that I was just too serious for my own good, but I liked to think that it made her and I the perfect balance. I was serious and critical whereas Mom was carefree and impulsive. She'd said once that I reminded her of my father, but she hadn't elaborated much. I'd only recently discovered that she may have been right about that, after all.
I stuck my tongue out at her as I walked backward out of the room. Secretly, it was also an excuse for me to watch to make sure she made it to the bathroom okay on her own. That was how I ended up bumping into someone behind me as I stepped out from her room.
"Oof." The person put a hand on my back, steadying me just before I could plummet to the tile floor.
"I am sooo sorry!" I blurted out as I spun around to see what damage I'd done.
My face turned a whole other shade darker in embarrassment as I realized the person I'd almost knocked down was none other than the cute guy from down the hall.
"I'm just glad you finally came out of there." He leaned in like we were sharing a secret. "I've walked by here about six times in the last fifteen minutes, and the nurses are starting to give me the stink eye." He winked at me, and it wasn't anything like the wink my mother had given me. Hers had been teasing, but his was blatantly flirty.
A quick glance in the direction of the nurse's station proved he wasn't kidding. The ladies on shift didn't look the least bit amused.
The guy touched my arm to get my attention back. "Did you miss the part where I just said I've basically been stalking you?"
"I'd hardly count fifteen minutes as stalking territory," I mumbled.
His whole head tilted back when he laughed. It was a great laugh, the kind that drew his whole body in. There was no faking a laugh like that. I found myself staring at his parted lips, and couldn't help wondering what they'd feel like on my own. Ah, good ol' teenage hormones. When he'd burned through the laugh, he looked back at me. His head tilted with interest as he studied me more closely.
He suggested, "My room is boring all alone. Come hang out with me." He tried to reach for my hand but I took a half step back. The guy was cute, but I didn't eve
n know his name.
I hesitated, staring at his outstretched palm while I mentally weighed my options. He wiggled his fingers. "Oh, come on. We're in a hospital, stranger danger hardly applies when there's gonna be nurses coming in to check on me every twenty minutes."
Knowing he had a good point, I carefully slipped my hand into his. "I'm Wren," I introduced myself.
"I know," he answered with a big grin. "I'm Henry."
I felt like I probably needed to question why he'd already known my name, but I didn't get a chance before he started dragging me forward. For someone who had to be dying to have earned a spot on that floor, he was really freaking strong.
Once in his room, I nervously wondered where to sit. Henry quickly made the decision for the both of us. He led me straight over to the sofa that sat underneath windows overlooking the nearby river. It was weird to catch a glimpse of something so normal considering how far removed from it—and all other outdoor things—I felt after weeks of barely leaving my mother's side. Her windows only overlooked a parking lot.
"What are you doing?" I questioned as Henry pulled up a chair right in front of me. He scooted it in as close as he could possibly get. Our knees brushed. Neither of us moved away.
"I'm a big believer in not wasting time. Exchanging names made us acquaintances, the walk to this end of the hall made us friends, and now I'm working on stage three."
"Stage three?"
"Summer fling. Though, I should go ahead and warn you that step four is serious relationship, and I fully intend for us to reach that by dinner time."
I glanced up at the standard clock that each room had. "That's only two hours from now."
"Guess you better fall in love with me fast, then." I waited for another one of his laughs, but it didn't come. "I'm serious," he insisted when I just kept gaping at him.
"I don't even know you."
I could feel a stirring in my stomach. Maybe I was getting the stomach bug that had been going around, I reasoned. Surely I wasn't getting butterflies over some dying guy who just happened to have the charisma of a seasoned politician.
"What are you doing when you get out of here?" he asked. It was a valid question, considering unlike most of the people there I would be getting out.
"My dad lined up a boarding school for me in the fall. I wiggled uncomfortably in my seat. I still hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of it.
He whistled. "Boarding school?" His eyes gave me a once over. "You don't dress like a rich kid." I glanced down self-consciously at the way my jean shorts had started to unravel around the hem.
"I don't actually, like, know my dad. He's the one that's rich. The state found him... because of my mom."
"Deadbeat dad is sending you to boarding school?" His eyebrows rose so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline.
Apparently, no one had ever taught Henry the concept of easing into things.
"It's complicated. We didn't know each other existed, and my mom wasn't really his biggest fan." She hadn't wanted me to know him, hadn't wanted to share me with him. Quickly I added, "But I'm not mad at my mom about it."
Henry eyed me shrewdly as if he didn't quite believe me. I really wasn't mad at her, that was the truth. Maybe I had been for about the first five minutes after I'd found out, but that was it. That was the thing about dying people, you quickly realized it was pretty hard to get mad at them even for the worst things they'd ever done.
"How much time does your mom have?" Henry asked casually. As if it wasn't the question I dreaded most in the world.
No one talked about diagnoses on our floor. The diagnosis didn't matter so much anymore once the patient was terminal. Instead, the conversations all turned to measurements of time. Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months, for those that were lucky. Years, for anyone who happened upon a miracle.
I scratched at the vinyl lining on the uncomfortable sofa. The material was easy to clean. It made sense in a hospital. I wished we could talk about something as inconsequential as those design choices, instead of talking about the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
After taking a deep breath, I answered stiffly, "Just the summer."
"How close are you to being done with school?" I got the feeling he was fishing for my age.
"I'm seventeen. Just one more year," I sighed. "You?"
His lips turned down for the first time since he'd introduced himself. "Nineteen. I have my GED, but college isn't really in the cards for me."
"Are you...?" I let my question trail off.
"Longer than the rest of the summer, but not long enough for college to be a good time investment," he answered the unspoken question.
It didn't matter how much time I spent with my mom in the hospital, I just couldn't get used to the casual way everyone seemed to talk about death. The nurses and doctors were much more subtle about their vocabulary choices, but the patients were all very blatant about it. It seemed like everyone on our floor had come to terms with things except for me.
Henry waved his hand in front of my face. "Where'd you go there?"
"Just thinking." Something that became suddenly impossible for me the second he let his hand drop down on top of my knee. I stared at the place where his skin made contact with mine.
"Let me guess." He stroked his non-existent beard, pretending to be deep in thought. "You were thinking about how much you'll miss me when I'm gone, right?"
"Are you always this obsessed with yourself?" I joked. The truth was, I liked the lighthearted way he talked to me. He made it easy to like him.
"Only when there's a pretty girl in the room." I swooned.
He reached out and pulled my legs into his lap. It was more than a little presumptuous of him, but I let him get away with it. Mostly because I liked the tingling feeling I got as his brown eyes trailed down my long, bare legs.
"Is this okay?" he asked.
I nodded. My mouth was too dry to form words. His fingers drummed a steady beat along the back of my calf muscle. The weirdest part was how quickly it started to feel normal. It did feel like we were in the midst of a summer fling that was turning into something more serious.
By the time the nutritionist brought Henry's dinner around that evening, I really was well and truly in love with him.
26
Wren
The cold air made me wrap my coat tighter around myself. The chill surrounding me was a sign of the impending winter. The weather felt appropriate, given how cold the inside of me felt, too. My feet turned back in the direction of my temporary home. I could only handle the cold weather for so long before the tip of my nose started to feel freezer burnt.
"Welcome back," Iris greeted me. "Did you enjoy your walk?"
I hung up my coat up by the door. There were two other coats hanging up there. I knew there was a couple occupying another one of the rooms, but I hadn't caught even a glimpse of them since I'd checked into the bed and breakfast at the beginning of the week. Iris had mentioned they were honeymooning, which hurt my heart to think about. It felt like a gentle nod from fate that I hadn't been forced to face them yet.
"I enjoyed it as much as I could considering the cold."
Iris was wedged into her favorite seat in the front room. Balls of yarn swam around the floor near her feet as she worked her knitting needles steadily. I slipped into the chair across from her, curling my feet up under me.
"And how's your soul feeling?"
She'd checked in on me like that every time I passed her in the house. "It's had better days," I admitted with a heavy sigh.
"You're carrying too much grief, dear." She hiked her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. "Your soul can't heal until you make a little room."
"I'm not sure I know how."
She offered a warm smile. My grandmother on my mother's side had died before I was born, but I liked to imagine she would have been like Iris, earthy and full of good energy. "You need an open heart for a clear soul."
"That sounds like somethin
g Henry would have said," I told her, my wistfulness clear in my voice.
Iris laughed lightly. "I'm sure it does." She set her knitting aside and went to a cabinet along the wall. She rifled around in a drawer until she found what she was looking for. "Here you go." She steadily made her way back over to me and handed me the envelope she'd collected.
I opened the flap and pulled out the card inside. The picture on the front made my heart race. I'd seen it before. I traced the smiling teddy bear on the front. I could have recreated the familiar shape even with my eyes closed.
"I'm pretty sure Henry single-handedly kept the gift shop open buying these overpriced things." The memory of it made me smile. "I didn't realize he'd sent one of them to you."
"Sure did, just a few days after the two of you left here."
It was one of the last things we'd done together. He'd gotten so bad, but he insisted to the nurses that he had to go to the gift shop with me. He was wheezing by the time we made it down to the first floor. The card had been his choice. I'd been leaning towards the one with the wild horses, but Henry had thought it was too serious. He'd picked out the grinning bear, instead. Then, he'd proceeded to send cards to all of his favorite people—and some of mine.
I bit my bottom lip as the nerves hit me. Henry's messy handwriting greeted me as I propped open the card. I touched the words as if they could somehow transport him back to me, if only for a moment.
Iris,
Thank you for giving my wife and I a safe space to say our goodbyes. I've always believed that a person needs an open heart for a clear soul. How lucky you are to have both. Please take good care of my girl when she finds her way back.
Eternally grateful,
Henry
"He knew I'd come back," I whispered to myself. He'd said it so confidently, too.
I yanked the card out of my lap so that my tears wouldn't land on it. They were falling rapidly down my cheeks. I felt bad for blubbering in front of Iris, but she seemed to take it in stride.
One Good Play Page 14
