The Missing Year

by Belinda Frisch

  Camille pulled a few weeds and settled in. “She’s here. Aren’t you, Sarah?” She produced a pitcher of pink liquid and two plastic cups from out of the cooler. “Hold these.”

  Ross held the cups while she poured. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Cosmos. What else?” She held up her cup in cheers. “To Sarah.”

  Ross tapped his cup to hers. “To Sarah. Happy birthday, baby.”

  Camille smiled. “That’s more like it.”

  * * * * *

  Time didn’t work the same at the cemetery as everywhere else. A pitcher of cosmos, a picnic lunch, and the better part of a six pack of confetti cupcakes later, Camille and Ross were laughing and reminiscing the way they had that first night at Mick’s Tavern.

  “Do you remember your wedding day when I asked you when you knew Sarah was the one for you?”

  Ross leaned back in the chair, watching the sunset and attempting to sober up in time for his flight. He sipped from a bottle of water, recalling childhood memories. “Since she kicked me in the shin in the first grade,” he said.

  “In fairness, you did try to kiss her.”

  “And I’d do it again. Sarah was as close to perfect as any woman I’ll ever know.”

  “What about Mattie? She wouldn’t have lost it over the bra incident if she didn’t care about you, Ross.”

  Ross had come to feel Sarah’s presence, enough that the conversation had him uncomfortable. “I don’t want to talk about that here.”

  Camille set her cup in the chair’s cup holder and leaned forward. “If you believe Sarah’s spirit is with you, she knows everything anyway.”

  “I hope that’s not true.” Ross rolled his eyes. “She’d never forgive me.”

  “Why? That ridiculous promise you made?”

  “She told you about that?”

  “Couples say those things. That if one of them dies the other will pine for the rest of their lives, or whatever. I believe you both meant it, but when someone dies as young as Sarah did, no one expects the other to live alone.”

  “Sarah expected me to.”

  “No, she didn’t.” Camille finished her drink. “There’s something I never told you. Something I should’ve said sooner, but couldn’t. I was too angry at the cancer and at Sarah for accepting what it was doing to her.”

  “Oh?” Ross drew his eyebrows together.

  “Sarah told me to make sure when the time was right that you knew she wanted you to be happy. She said, ‘Don’t let him be alone’ because she knew you’d have a hard time moving on.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Sarah.”

  “It’s true. She said it the day she found out her chemotherapy stopped working.”

  “She didn’t mean it,” Ross said. “She couldn’t have meant it, or she’d have told me herself.”

  “Some things are too painful. Sometimes you need someone to say them for you.” Camille forced a sympathetic smile. “All I’m saying is that you need someone to take care of you. Someone like Mattie. Best friend resentment aside, I think Sarah would approve.”

  “I’ve burned that bridge, I’m afraid.”

  “I don’t believe that for a minute,” Camille said. “Trust me, all Mattie needs is a grand gesture.”

  “Maybe it’s time I give her one.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  Ross made it to the airport four hours before his 1 AM flight. He returned his rental car and caught a few hours sleep in the terminal before boarding the first plane. He was exhausted, but something had changed. He had changed. The time spent with Camille at Sarah’s grave had relieved him of an enormous weight he hadn’t even realized he’d been carrying.

  All he could think of was Mattie.

  A single layover in Philadelphia and a frustratingly long cab ride through rush hour traffic had Ross arriving at the hospital a little after eight. The tension of having been on administrative leave made his return to the hospital uncomfortable.

  Walking through the main entrance, it was as if everyone expected him.

  “Good afternoon, Dr. Reeves.” The woman behind the reception desk was the first to acknowledge him.

  “Good morning,” he said, unsure of her name.

  “Good morning, Dr. Reeves.” Patty, one of the unit nurses, said in passing.

  “Good morning, Patty.”

  “Ross, I heard you might be here.” Dr. Daniel Long walked up beside him, dressed in a navy suit and red tie. He looked fresh from the conference room rather than patient rounds. “Can we talk?”

  Ross would have thought the fact that he was toting weeks’ worth of luggage was an adequate indicator. “No. We can’t, Dan. I need to get to Mattie.” He turned to the smiling young receptionist. Can you please verify a room number for me please? The patient’s name is Mattie Jensen.”

  “Room B2307,” the woman said and handed him a slip of paper with the room number written on it.

  “It’s important,” Dan said.

  “It would have to be for you to interfere with me seeing my injured girlfriend. I don’t owe you anything, Dan. You suspended me.”

  “I know, and I know what happened at Lakeside.”

  “Well that makes one of us.” Ross turned to the receptionist. “Mind if I leave these bags with you?” He was shoving them behind the desk before she could answer. “Thanks.”

  “What I have to say will only take a minute.”

  “I don’t have a minute.” Ross pressed the call button at the nearest bank of elevators.

  Dan followed him inside. “We can talk on the way.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I want you to come back to work.”

  “Now you want me back? What about Arlene Pope?”

  “Recovered, released, and currently the state’s problem.”

  “All is forgiven that easily?”

  “We’re overwhelmed, Ross. Tammy Peterson resigned this morning.”

  Tammy was one of the other on-staff psychiatrists. Budget cuts and call coverage had their department spread too thin already.

  “I will, too, if you don’t leave me alone. You said six weeks. Things have come up, and I’m not sure how I feel about coming back.”

  “You mean now?”

  “I mean ever,” Ross said. “I know Guy kept you from firing me, Dan, and I don’t appreciate you talking to him about my personal life.” The door chimed. “This is my floor. Please don’t follow me out.”

  Ross followed the second floor B-wing wall signs to room 307 and found Mattie asleep in the bed next to the window.

  Dr. Jamar Maas, a colleague of Ross’s for years, documented her vitals. “Ross, I’m glad you made it.” His dark hair and olive complexion contrasted his white dress shirt and lab coat. “I was just about to wake her up.”

  “How is she?”

  “Comfortable. She’s been asleep a few hours now.”

  Ross moved to Mattie’s bedside and scanned her for injuries. Her auburn hair lay flat against the pillow, her face pale and showing only the trace of days’ old makeup. An IV extended from her left hand, connected to a bag of saline.

  “Are her test results back?”

  “Everything looks good,” Jamar said. “MRI and CT with myelogram are clean. She had some initial swelling, but it’s gone down. We have been giving her medication for the pain, but she should be switching to acetaminophen for the next dose.”

  “When can she go home?”

  “Later today or first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Ross?” Mattie’s eyes rolled open and she blinked as though adjusting to the light. “What are you doing here?”

  “Tim called. Emergency contact, remember?”

  “I forgot to change that.” She smirked, moved her IV tubing, and sat up in bed.

  “Take it easy.”

  “I feel fine, just stiff from being in this bed and a little drugged.” She turned to Jamar. “Am I going to be able to leave today? I have so much to do. I don’t even know where my
car is.”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Ross said. “We’ll figure everything out.”

  “We’ll? There’s no we anymore, Ross.”

  “I should let you two talk,” Jamar said. “I want to have the radiologist take one more look at your films, Mattie, and then yes, I think we’ll be able to get you out of here later this afternoon. You’ll need to take it easy for the next couple of weeks and follow up with your personal physician after that.” He pulled two cards from his pocket. “Here is the contact information for the consulting neurologist and the orthopedist. If you have any problems, feel free to contact them. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Thanks, Jamar,” Ross said.

  “Anytime. Don’t mention it.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  Mattie pulled a brush through her hair and straightened her gown, her expression changing from sleepy to angry in a matter of seconds.

  Reality had set in, apparently for both of them.

  “I told Tim not to call you,” she said. “I really am fine, and I meant what I said. You and I are through. I can’t compete with your past, Ross. I never could.”

  Ross sat in the chair at her bedside, reached for her hand, and tried not to react when she pulled away. All things considered, he deserved to lose her.

  “Mattie, please listen.”

  “To what? Another list of things I need to understand?”

  “Some things happened in New York.”

  “Oh, I know what happened in New York.”

  “God, why won’t you believe me about that? Camille is a friend.”

  “Then why was she so jealous?”

  “She wasn’t jealous,” Ross said. “She was defensive. Sarah was her best friend. You can’t blame her for needing some time to adjust.”

  “Can’t I?”

  A late middle-aged nurse appeared in the doorway. “Mattie, is everything all right? You should be resting.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then lower your voices.” The woman walked away with her finger pressed to her lips.

  “I keep telling them it doesn’t hurt anymore and that I want to go home.”

  “I’ll make sure that if everything’s all right, you’re out of here later today,” Ross said.

  Mattie tucked her auburn hair behind her ears. “Don’t do me any favors.”

  “It’s not a favor, Mattie. I want to take you home. To take care of you if you’ll let me. I hate leaving voicemail messages I know you’ll never answer. I hate going to bed and not being able to at least say goodnight. I hate how lonely I am without you and how terrified I was when I heard you were hurt. You are all I have thought about since you left New York.”

  “Why are you making this harder than it needs to be?”

  “Making what harder? We don’t have to be apart, Mattie.”

  “How can we possibly be together after—?”

  “Nothing happened, Mattie. We explained that.”

  “We. You and that bimbo Camille?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Not fair? You slept with another woman and I’m being unfair?”

  “I didn’t sleep with her. Well, we slept in the same bed, but we didn’t have sex.”

  “So you claim.”

  “It’s true.”

  “The fact that you keep saying that makes me wonder, but that isn’t it—at least not entirely.”

  “Then what?”

  “It’s that everything—this case, the trip to New York, Camille—circles back to Sarah. I’ll never be her, and you’ll never be over her.”

  “I’ll always love her, but I won’t only love her. I was wrong, Mattie. You know how hard it is for me to admit that. Camille put into perspective how badly I’ve treated you. You wouldn’t have put up with me this long if you didn’t love me.”

  “Of course I love you, but I can’t continue being in love with someone who can’t love me back.”

  Ross thought back to the fight they’d had before he left for New York. “I just needed time.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “It’s true. I’ve been so consumed by my own grief I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I do love you, Mattie. I always have. Give me one last chance to prove to you how committed I am to making this relationship work.”

  “Why?” she said. “What’s changed?”

  “Everything.”

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  A brief conversation with the attending physician all but guaranteed Mattie’s discharge. The latest test results confirmed that the swelling was no longer cause for concern.

  Ross intended to pick Mattie up when it was time for her to go home, but there was something he needed to do first. After careful consideration, he was sure he had his grand gesture. Ross picked up his bags from the main desk, hailed a cab, and was lost in thought when his phone rang.

  “Speak of the devil.”

  “Miss me?”

  It was Camille.

  “More than you know. What’s up?” It felt good to have a friend again.

  “I wanted to make sure you got home okay, and find out how Mattie was doing.”

  “Safe and sound, and Mattie’s fine. There was some concern about swelling but it’s gone.”

  “That’s great to hear. Tell her ‘Get well soon’ from me.”

  “Will do.”

  “How about the relationship stuff?”

  “What do you want me to tell you? That I begged her to listen to me? That I spilled my guts to a lukewarm reception and an uncertain future?”

  “No. I want to hear that you tried, that you realized what you needed to do. I really am sorry about the trouble I caused. I was being petty.”

  “You were being a good friend,” Ross said.

  “A best friend, but now I have you to look out for. We both have some moving on to do. Did you come up with a game plan?”

  “I did.”

  “Are you expecting me to drag it out of you? You’re like nine hundred miles away.”

  “I don’t want to jinx it,” Ross said.

  “Can you at least give me a hint?”

  “Sure. I’m on my way home to dig out some boxes.”

  “Let me know how that works out for you.”

  The cab driver pulled into Ross’s driveway, the meter reading a fifty-five dollar fare. Ross handed him sixty dollars in twenties and thanked him when he unloaded his bags from the trunk.

  Home sweet home.

  Ross turned the key in the front door and it swung open like a portal to his past. Everything—from the surplus of throw blankets to the medical equipment—reminded him of Sarah’s death.

  The self-imposed torment had to stop.

  Ross headed to the basement where he’d stored the boxes he’d been collecting for an intangible someday when he could stand to see Sarah’s things gone. He carried as many as he could and two rolls of packing tape upstairs. The day had finally come. He headed into the master bedroom, set down his supplies, and made two phone calls—one to a moving company and the other to a storage facility—before getting started.

  He assembled several of the large boxes and laid them out in a row on the floor in front of the walk-in closet. One by one he removed each article of Sarah’s clothing from the hangers, carefully folded them, and stacked them inside one of the boxes. He unloaded the rack of shoes—everything from high heels to calf-high boots—and boxed her costume jewelry organizer.

  Sarah had loved to accessorize.

  The next thing to go was the medical equipment. Ross had decided to donate rather than store it. He boxed the small things—unopened rubber gloves, a commode, dressings, and new-in-the-package colostomy supplies—that he was sure the Visiting Nurses Association could use, sealed, and labeled them. He folded the walker that had been Sarah’s last hope before becoming too weak to support her own weight and leaned it against the wall.

  Five years’ of dust had settled on the bedroom furniture. Dust being sevent
y-five to ninety percent dead skill cells, he had considered it to be part of Sarah. It was one of a dozen ways he tricked himself into feeling her presence. He rinsed a dust rag with warm water from the master bathroom faucet, unable to believe he’d gone so far into mourning or that Mattie hadn’t left him for it sooner. He cleared the nightstand of the picture frame, phone base, and a bottle of lavender lotion that had been Sarah’s favorite and washed away the outlines. He boxed the lotion and the bottles of perfume lining the shorter of the two dressers. The smells were unpleasant reminders. He opened the bedroom windows as wide as they would go and turned his face into the cleansing breeze.

  Ross opened all the windows, releasing the past he had holed himself up with. He continued packing, vacuumed, dusted, and set all of the boxes on the front porch for pick-up. The movers had an unexpected midday opening, making Ross all the more eager for the boxes to be removed before he got the urge to bring them back inside.

  No good would come from that.

  He was taping the final box when the phone rang.

  It had to be Camille again. He wouldn’t exactly call her patient.

  “Hello?” Ross cut the tape, not even bothering to check the caller ID.

  “Ross, hey. It’s Tim. Do you have a minute?”

  He wasn’t in the mood for another argument.

  “Tim, if this is about Mattie—”

  “She’s mad as hell at me for calling you, but no. This isn’t about her. Last she and I talked, she was happy to be getting discharged.”

  “I’m finishing up a few things here at the house and I’m going to pick her up.”

  “I’m glad you made it in time.”

  “Me, too. Thank you for calling, all things considered.”

  “It was the right thing to do.”

  “So what can I do for you, Tim?”

  “Rumor has it you might be looking for work.”

  “Good news travels fast.”

  “Did Mattie tell you about the Carebridge expansion?”

  “She mentioned something about it.”

  Carebridge was about to break ground on a new memory care wing, something that had come too late to help Ross’s mother.