by Tif Marcelo
“That it’s rare for us to worry about this, about our own contingencies. I keep asking myself if it’s necessary for me to go under the knife. And then I reminded myself that two weeks ago I was in so much pain that I had to ask a neighbor I barely knew to watch Genevieve so I could drive myself to urgent care.”
Sophie nodded, encouraging her to go on.
“How many times did we fill out that power of attorney for Matt and Jasper? We’re always prepared for something to happen to them, for us to be left with the aftermath.”
“We’re definitely prepared.”
“Maybe too prepared?” Adelaide said. “Because my mind immediately goes to the worst-case scenario.”
“It’s the way we’ve had to live. It’s part of our survival. We can’t be taken by surprise. We don’t have that luxury.”
“Right? My mama called me morbid because I thought about the probability of loss. All the time.” Adelaide rolled her eyes and mimicked her mother’s voice. “Adelaide, dear, you’re just invitin’ trouble to your doorstep by asking it to dance.”
Sophie laughed, because she’d accused herself of the same thing. “We are a little morbid, but I think it’s how we protect ourselves. We’ve known people who’ve been killed overseas, people who have died. We’ve comforted people who’ve sustained loss. We have lost people ourselves.”
“Exactly, and right now, I wonder what if something happens to me—will Genevieve be okay? And I see what you’re going to say next, Soph, and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear that nothing is going to happen to me, because things do happen. Things happen to service members, things happen to spouses. You’re a nurse, and you know that things happen during surgery. God, the other day, I was driving by the oral surgery clinic and there was an ambulance wheeling someone out, probably from wisdom teeth removal. And yes, I have friends, but that mommy group I belong to? They are casual relationships. That’s not all their fault, though; it’s mine, because I am done opening myself to everyone and everything. It’s exhausting to start and stop friendships. And then my family—I love them, but they’re no longer young. They are, for a lack of a better word, unreliable.”
Sophie didn’t speak, not until she knew for sure that Adelaide was done. Because sometimes, her friend simply needed to vent. She had to express the worst-case scenario—its acknowledgment could strip away its power—before she composed herself once more. “Ad, I can’t tell what’s going to happen in surgery, or in recovery. No one can. But here’s the thing I promise: I will do everything in my power to be here for you and for Genevieve. In all the ways. Even if it’s just to grab you some ice chips or to feed you Jell-O or to hold up your throw-up bucket. And more, for the worst case. In the worst-case scenario, I will be here for Matt, for Genevieve, and I will make sure that Regina doesn’t hog all of your baskets and necklaces because at least half have to go to me.”
Adelaide cackled, face settling into a smile.
A knock sounded on the door, and the anesthesiologist walked into the room. Dr. Wong was spectacled and serious but had kind eyes. “Are you ready for me, Mrs. Wilson-Chang?”
“Yes, almost there.” Adelaide squeezed Sophie’s hand. “Please don’t stay mad that Reggie’s here.”
Sophie hardened her poker face, gritted her teeth together in a Crest-white smile. “I admit, I wish you would have told me.”
“One of you wouldn’t have come if I had.”
Would Sophie have refused the SOS if she’d known? Would she have missed this because of a decade-long unresolved situation between herself and Regina?
Sophie averted her eyes at her doubt. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Well, thank you for staying, for not even thinking of leaving.” She squeezed her hand. “I only have one last thing to ask. A huge favor. Massive.”
“Anything, obviously.”
“And I’m going to need help convincing Regina of the same thing.”
“Okayyy.”
“I think we should do book club again.”
“Wh—I don’t get it.”
“I haven’t been able to get a book club together here. And I figured, since you both have a week with me, that we could read a couple of books together.”
“Noooo…” Sophie dropped her chin. She knew where this was going. “Adelaide, you and your plans. What is going on in that head of yours? This is ridiculous—book club won’t fix Regina and me.”
“Okay, so maybe not two books, but one. Something fun and quick.”
“You’re not hearing me. No, Ad.”
“C’mon. You said you’d do anything. And this is easy. It’s nothing really. I know you already have a Kindle full of books, and admit it, you probably have at least two paperbacks in your suitcase.”
Sophie flattened her lips together. Damn it.
“So what’s one more book? Pretty please with sugar on top.” Adelaide’s gaze strayed over Sophie’s shoulder. She tugged on Sophie’s hand. “Look, I’ve had to cancel Genevieve’s party because of this surgery. And because I’ve been in pain, I haven’t been out and about. Book club for the three of us—I want to look forward to that before we all go our separate directions once more.”
“All right, Mrs. Wilson-Chang, we really must get going.” The doctor approached her bedside.
“Say yes, Sophie,” Adelaide said, as the room was rearranged, and the commotion began. “Say yes!”
And because her friend was about to go under anesthesia with all the uncertainty of surgery ahead of her, Sophie did what good nurses did. She gave her patient some peace. “Yes, fine. I’m in. I’ll tell Regina. I love you.”
“I love you, too!” Sophie said, waving like a pageant queen.
But as Sophie was escorted from the room, she wondered if this intervention Adelaide was planning, and which she had just agreed to, was a disaster waiting to happen.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Regina
“Genevieve, your mama’s seeing the doctor now.” Regina looked up from Sophie’s text update, which said that if there were no complications, the two would be home by dinnertime.
Regina texted back:
She’s okay?
Yes, but we need to talk.
About what?
She wants us to do book club while we’re together.
Regina guffawed. Adelaide couldn’t just leave well enough alone.
“Mama’s with doctor?” Genevieve, next to Regina at the toddler-sized table and chairs, smashed a hand against the homemade Play-Doh, interrupting Regina’s train of thought.
“Yep, and soon she’s going to feel so much better.” Regina tousled Genevieve’s dark wispy hair.
“No more cry.” Genevieve shook her head. “Mama no crying.”
“No, no more crying.” She stood, eager for some space. It broke her heart how much Adelaide had endured on her own, without family nearby. She knew what it felt like to struggle with something painful while alone.
The phone rang in Regina’s hand, surprising her.
Henry.
She stared at his name.
She’d been meaning to text him, but the last day had been consumed with getting settled and avoiding Sophie. And normally, unless it was Miko, she didn’t take phone calls. Who had the time these days?
“The phone’s ringing,” Genevieve said pointedly. And she was actually pointing at the phone.
“Do you think I should take the call?”
Genevieve answered by grabbing the Play-Doh and squeezing it through her fingers.
“Okay, then.” She pressed the green button. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Henry.”
Was it possible for his phone voice to be sexier than his DMs and his in-real-life good looks? According to her legs, which had turned to jelly, yes, it was. Regina swallowed her giddiness. “Hi. How are you?”
“Good. Great, actually. I was just thinking of you.”
He was thinking of her. Of her! “Oh?”
“And I know you’re
busy right now.”
Regina knew what was coming. He was going to ask her out. She hung on to the kitchen counter for support. “I am. Busy, that is.”
“Oh, well… never mind, then.”
She hit her forehead with a palm. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t let you finish. What did you want to say?”
“In one of our DMs, you mentioned how much you love cheese. And there’s a restaurant in Old Town with your name on it. I thought… that when things settle down…”
Genevieve was staring at her with this goofy smile, and Regina realized the toddler was mimicking her own goofy smile. Then, Genevieve started to kiss the Play-Doh, which escalated to licking it, and then opening her mouth so wide Regina could see her back teeth…
With speed she hadn’t deployed since she was in her twenties chasing around Miko, Regina leaped across the kitchen to snatch the Play-Doh from Genevieve’s hand, and the little girl’s mouth promptly clamped on her wrist with a vampire’s sting.
“No!” she yelped.
“Oh… okay.” Henry stammered. “No worries, I—”
“No!” she objected. “I wasn’t talking to you, Henry. Sorry, I’m with Genevieve, my friend Adelaide’s daughter, and… anyway, cheese sounds wonderful. But can I get back to you with times? Adelaide’s in surgery, now actually.” She wiped the drool around her wrist against her jeans.
“Of course. Can I call you in the next couple of days?”
“Sure.” She bit her bottom lip. “That sounds great.”
“All right, then. I can’t wait. I’ll call you soon.”
“All right. Bye.”
When they hung up, Regina squealed. Then she jumped in place, then she did the running man.
Genevieve laughed. “You’re funny.”
“Why, thank you, thank you very much,” she said, mimicking Elvis.
Genevieve’s eyebrows plummeted, and she simply said, “I’m hungry.”
Regina sighed and flipped the watch on her wrist. “Oh, it is lunchtime. Let’s take a look at the manual, shall we?” Regina approached the one-inch binder with the spine labeled All about Genevieve. Parts were sectioned with tabs marked “About Me” and “My Schedule” and “Important People,” and each topic was filled with typed instructions for Regina.
In the “About Me” section was a list of favorite foods, separated by types: entrées, fruits, vegetables, dessert, and with a separate section for pasta and rice. “You and me and carbs. Am I right?” She scrolled a finger down and stopped at something she was excellent at making. “Pancit? You eat pancit?”
“Uh-huh!” Genevieve piled a round piece of dough onto another one, and then smooshed it down with a palm.
“Let’s see what we have for ingredients.” Regina rummaged through the pantry. “Hmm. Instant mac and cheese? Sacrilegious. Oh, here’s a package of vermicelli. Everything else, we can wing! Time me, baby girl. Twenty minutes.”
But it took much longer than twenty minutes to make the pancit. Regina had forgotten how much toddlers got under one’s feet. Every seemingly innocuous object was suddenly life-threatening: the under-the-counter microwave Genevieve stuck one of her metal toys in, the garbage can with the step handle that almost slapped her in the face before Regina edged her out of the way. By the time Regina got the bib on the little girl and settled her in the high chair, she was utterly humbled.
That explained the instant mac and cheese.
Still, watching Genevieve eat, a sadness came over Regina at how fast time had flown. Yes, she’d survived the toddler years with Miko—thank goodness—with the help of her mother, and Logan, who ended up being an excellent co-parent despite their divorce, but Miko was nine. Nine! Soon, he would be out of elementary school and then moving out somewhere possibly states away. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she punched at her phone. She and her son had texted several times that morning already, but she wanted to hear his voice.
“Hello,” Miko said when he answered the phone.
Instantly, Regina felt better. “How are you? Did you eat this morning?”
“Yes, Lola made me my favorite breakfast. Pop-Tarts.”
“Wow, yum.” Of course her mother allowed Pop-Tarts. When Regina and her brothers were kids, her mother made eggs every single day. Protein for muscle, was what she would say without fail, convinced that cereal and pancakes and waffles were made of sugar.
Gloria hadn’t been wrong. But it wasn’t fun nor was it nearly as delicious.
Silence descended on his side of the world, and in the background Regina heard the faint, quintessential sound of lightsabers being wielded. “Anak, are you playing video games?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay—” Their last conversation had been less than twelve hours ago—she’d let this go. “Give the phone to Lola.”
“Okay. Lola!” A bedraggled scream pierced through the phone, and Regina distanced it from her ear. Jeez.
“Regina?”
“Hey, Ma, how are things?”
“Fine. Nothing’s changed since last night, but Alexis is here. She wants to talk to you.”
“Um, okay.” It wasn’t a surprise that Alexis was visiting the Castro residence, because Regina’s mother was grandmother to everyone. When Alexis greeted her, Regina asked, “What’s up?”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop off invoices and receipts from the last event.” Her voice dipped at the tail end of the sentence.
“Thank you.”
“And I was hoping—do you have time to talk right now?”
“Yes, actually, I do.” She and Alexis had skipped their monthly meeting in her haste to come to Virginia, and like a true soldier, her business manager was insistent on following up.
Regina hated talking about money. Besides facing the fact that she would soon have to make a decision about The Perfect Day Catering, money issues felt like a shameful secret no one should know about. It had been a prevalent pressure in her daily life as a child. Though not discussed around her mother’s dinner table, Regina and her brothers had known there was little to go around, primarily as a result of their parents’ divorce.
“We’re crossing the three-year mark soon,” Alexis said.
“Is it that time already?” Regina said airily, though a heaviness settled in her chest. It was slightly eased by Genevieve, who was eating the heck out of her pancit, loving every single strand of noodle, every morsel of green bean and carrot.
But Regina hadn’t forgotten what she’d said to Alexis almost three years prior. She had been several years out after separating from the Army and Logan, with a child in tow, living back at home with her mother. With her savings from active-duty service—thank God she hadn’t shared finances with Logan while married—she’d invested in her own business with one stipulation: that she’d give it her all, and if The Perfect Day Catering didn’t feel profitable or promising after three years, she’d walk away. She’d estimated that in three years, she would feel the financial burden of debt, and sure enough, as the months passed with fewer clients than she’d anticipated, she was starting to be crushed by it. Her only solution was cash flow either in the form of clients or investment, and neither seemed to be on the horizon.
Right then, as Regina discussed numbers with Alexis, both agreed that the business was in a dire state. There were no optimistic words or encouragement as when they’d shared their first-year anniversary. Nor did Regina sound like a feisty business owner, fighting for her dream, as she had during their second-year anniversary.
This time, Regina expressed the inevitable. “I think it’s time to start formulating an exit strategy.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It never has been your fault. In fact, you’ve helped me keep afloat. But unless a miracle happens in the next six months, we’re looking at this same fate. It’s me that’s sorry. Can you give me time to get back to Georgia so I can think of next steps?”
“You sound like we’re breaking up.”
“I hope we
’re not,” Regina said.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Silence descended, and despite the plate of pancit that had been calling her name, Regina’s appetite disappeared.
“Well, how are things over there?” Alexis asked, finally breaking the moment.
“Fine.” Regina heaved out a breath. “Just keeping Adelaide’s kiddo happy while she’s in surgery. I bought some ingredients with Henry yesterday to cook up some food, but I think I’m going to need a full-on shopping trip.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa there, little mama. Henry? You didn’t text me anything about Henry.” In a muffled voice, she added, “Yes, Lola, that’s what she said; she met Henry!”
Her mother’s voice came loud and firm through the phone. She must’ve grabbed it from Alexis. “So is he hot?”
“Mother!” Regina’s cheeks burned. This was the reason why she hadn’t told either of these women a thing about their meetup. They were on her like white on rice. “I’m not going to do this with you.”
“Did you hold hands?”
In the background, she heard Alexis cackle.
“I’m going to hang up now!”
“Okay, iha. Remember, the red lipstick looks best on you. But make sure you dab a little powder on your lips, because when you kiss him…”
That was it, she couldn’t do it. She hung up.
Seconds later, a text came in from her mother. It was a picture of her and Alexis pretending to kiss the book Henry sent her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Sophie
The sun had set by the time Sophie pulled up at Adelaide’s townhome. The wind whipped her hair sideways as she assisted Adelaide out of the back seat, and they both took slow and sure steps up the sidewalk, the stairs, and through the door Regina was holding open.
