In a Book Club Far Away

by Tif Marcelo

  “Yes, we should actually know before we leave the hospital tomorrow.” Sophie took a bite of the roll, and its taste distracted her for a moment.

  “Good?” Regina asked.

  “It’s perfect.” Sophie licked her lips. Then she shook her head as the conversation caught up to her. “I’ve still got to update Jasper with everything and change my flight. But hold the phone. You’ve scheduled a p-a-r-t-y for the child of a mother who just had surgery, a mother who should be recovering the rest of the week, and then made it a surprise not only for the child but for the mother?”

  “You make it sound so horrible.” She shrugged. “Birthdays are such a special time. And you know that Adelaide hates the fact that she’s not throwing one for her own baby. The woman loves parties. So yes, the party is for her, too.”

  “I don’t know, Regina. Why would you think that she wouldn’t want to plan this, at a later time? On her own?”

  “Because! Like you said, she’ll be in recovery. By the time she’s up and about, it may be weeks. Adelaide loves birthdays as much as I do.”

  Sophie’s taste buds were having a party in her mouth after another bite of the roll, but she frowned at Regina’s implication. “And I don’t?”

  “I’m just saying that you’re not one for parties.”

  “We like our birthdays low-key.”

  “But that’s not our friend, is it?” Regina heaved a breath. “And honestly, this will give me something to do, to give back. I feel helpless. I want to show her how much I care about her. I want to make Ad happy.”

  Sophie paused for a beat. “I think that us being here alone shows how much we both love her, and I’ve no doubt she’s happy that we’re here. And I also think that this party will stress her out.”

  Regina tipped her head back as if in exasperation. “Sure, maybe a little at first. But in the end you know she’ll love that we got a cake and some decor and sang the ‘Happy Birthday’ song. Depending on how Missy can swing it, maybe we can fill up Adelaide’s house like how it used to be when we got together. Adelaide thrives having folks around. She’s an extrovert.”

  “Only when planned,” Sophie emphasized.

  “Small detail. And this is a special circumstance.”

  Adelaide was an extrovert, this was true. While Sophie wasn’t social like the two of them were, she could respect it. A memory rushed back, and Sophie smiled. “I remember the time when she wanted a karaoke night, and you brought your karaoke machine to her house. And the apartment HOA came and asked us to turn it down.”

  “The nineties tunes were what brought us to the dark side. Those ballads. They were like battle cries of freedom.”

  Sophie could hear it now: the loud feedback from the karaoke machine in Adelaide’s house, the television speaker all the way up to high. Neighbors filtering in to check on the commotion. Everyone singing along in their different pitches.

  Sophie giggled, and it felt good. To let go of what was in her chest. Her worry for her friend, her worry for her and Jasper’s relationship.

  “So you’ll help me?” Regina prodded. “We’ve got less than a week, and I’ve got a list to go through.”

  Sophie pressed her lips together. “I swear, you and Adelaide and your plans.”

  “It that a yes, then? Adelaide will be so much better by the weekend, and what better time to celebrate than with both godmothers present?”

  “I guess…” Sophie hedged. All said, it was a good idea. It was thoughtful. And a part of her liked this teamwork, at being addressed as “both godmothers,” as if their friendship had turned around. And yet, she also wanted to play hard to get—it was so complicated, this push and pull. “I’ll help, willingly and without argument, if you actually finish our book club book.”

  “Ugh. I was hoping you wouldn’t say that. I was perfectly happy putting the book away before something bad happened to the characters.”

  “What can I say? I like to be consistent. But if we’re talking about supporting Adelaide—then having our little book club would make her happy. And she might be a little less pissed off when she sees you’ve invited people without telling her.”

  Regina grunted.

  “I’ll fill goody bags and can blow up balloons and make a big fuss even when I don’t think we should,” Sophie said, sweetening the pot.

  Regina bit her lower lip. “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  “Great.” Sophie turned to Genevieve. “Ready to see your mama, Genevieve? She’s going to love a hug from you.” She stood and plucked her out of the chair. “And I can’t wait to go home and go to bed. It’s been a day. And by the way, Reggie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re not helpless. Look at how happy this kid is.” As Sophie gestured toward Genevieve, the little girl smiled with all of her teeth. “And that cinnamon roll really hit the spot. It might have been the best thing I’ve eaten that you’ve made.”

  “Thanks.” A second later, Regina’s eyes narrowed. “Is this a prank?”

  Sophie threw her head back and laughed. “No. No, it’s not.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Regina

  Present Day, Tuesday

  Sitting contorted in the pullout hospital guest bed and tangled in a stiff blanket, Regina startled from her Candy Crush game by the synthesized beat of a phone ringing. As she sat up, her book, which she had failed at reading, crashed to the ground. Kicking the blanket off her, she leaped to her feet so she could turn off Adelaide’s phone before it woke her.

  But the phone stopped ringing, and the room plunged into pitch darkness.

  Regina sighed, thanking the heavens above. As she lay back down, the phone rang again. She lunged toward the noise, bone-weary from the uncomfortable cushions, skin dry from the recycled air, to Adelaide’s beside table.

  She turned the phone over—it was Matt.

  This was probably Matt’s fifth attempt that she’d witnessed—the last one at 11:00 p.m., when Adelaide was watching Property Brothers—and not once had her friend taken the call. There had always been a reason: exhaustion, headache, and at the moment, sleep.

  It was understandable. All night, beeping machines, the footsteps of nurses, and the quiet whisperings of caregivers had kept both she and Regina awake. Hospitals were not meant for sleep.

  But Matt must’ve been out of his mind with worry.

  She swiped the phone to answer it. “Hello?”

  Matt’s voice was faraway. “Ad?”

  “No, it’s Regina. Hold on, okay?” She bent down and placed a hand on Adelaide’s shoulder and nudged her gently. “Adelaide, it’s Matt.”

  Adelaide grumbled. Another nudge—and her eyes fluttered open. “Hm?”

  “Matt. He’s on the phone.”

  “I’ll call him later.” She shut her eyes.

  Regina gripped the phone in midair. She looked around the room for an Adelaide stunt double who would actually take the time to talk to her husband. This was strange. Admittedly, Adelaide had not been talkative overnight, but Regina’d chalked it up to pain.

  Okay, then. She bit her lip as she put the phone against her ear. “Matt?”

  A pause, then Matt spoke. “She doesn’t want to talk to me?” he said, resigned.

  “No, not that, she’s sleeping. Perhaps try to call later? Rounds will be in about an hour, and she’ll be up from then on.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Regina… she’s doing okay, though, right?”

  “She is, yes.” Regina smiled, hoping he’d feel it somehow.

  “Okay, goodbye.”

  After hanging up, Regina couldn’t go back to bed. Anger bubbled from deep inside, at secrets people kept from others they claimed to love when physical distance kept them apart. It wasn’t fair to Matt, just as it hadn’t been fair to Regina, ten years ago.

  The interaction she’d witnessed was too complicated to think about without some real caffeine in her system. After writing a qui
ck note to Adelaide that she’d be back in a couple of hours, she decided on a walk down from the hospital to Burg Street, about a half mile away, where the city was just starting to wake. She loved the vibe and nostalgia of the early mornings, the dimly lit sky and the stillness of the world. It reminded her of the long runs she used to take, the early formations with her Army unit. On a scheduled catering day, Regina also used the early mornings to do her prep. Knowing she’d accomplished so much before the rest of the world had awakened—that by the time she’d drunk her second cup of coffee, half her checklist had been checked off—was satisfying.

  Inspired, she took a picture of the sky for her Instagram. She hadn’t kept up with the feed—despite being in a bustling town, Regina felt out of touch with reality, especially without having her family to ground her. She equally was out of words for the morning, with so much on her mind, so she left it without a caption.

  Her phone buzzed, first with a notification that Just Cakes left a comment on her photo, and then second with a text from Henry.

  You’re up?

  I am. Looking for coffee near Alex General.

  Old Town Coffee & Tea is on Burg, two blocks down from the bakery. It’s small. Look out for the green awning or you might miss it.

  She bit her lip and decided, what the hell.

  Are you free? Want to join me?

  Absolutely.

  Great. I’m on my way.

  Sure enough, Regina almost missed the entrance of Old Town Coffee & Tea since its building facade was narrow and smooshed in between an art gallery and a museum, but two women in workout gear passed her with bags of pastries. Her taste buds and attention woke at the scent of butter and java, and she entered the shop, hanging by the door to wait for Henry, heart pounding in anticipation of his arrival. To distract herself, she scanned the cozy coffeehouse, immediately landing on the chalkboard menu behind the counter.

  Genevieve’s party could have a chalkboard theme! She tapped into her phone as the flood of ideas came. Chalkboard menu on the tables, then maybe colored chalk for the kids to play with in the backyard. Non-helium balloons on the ground for the kids to kick around.

  She took a photo of the scene, of the long line and the chalkboard menu, to save for inspiration, only to be asked by someone if she was in line. Her heart squeezed in envy. To be a business, any business, that bustled like this was the dream. And in her gut, she knew it was possible. The Perfect Day Catering could thrive in a historic town like this.

  Would she really be able to shutter the doors in six months? Would she be able to tell Alexis that she would have to move on? Could she let go of her employees? Could she afford not to? Every bit of saved money, except for a small amount earmarked for emergencies, had gone toward her venture. Yet, what had she gained?

  Headaches, yes, but joy, too, and pride. That she’d created something from scratch, made from her own sweat and tears. This was something no one could take away.

  She shook her runaway brain into focus and started on the food list. Cake from Just Cakes. Tea sandwiches, 3 types (cucumber, cheese, ham).

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Baby pink tablecloths.

  “Excuse me, are you in line?” A low voice said behind her.

  Tent flags draped in the living room.

  “Uh-huh,” she said.

  “The line moved.”

  Goodness, Northern Virginians were impatient. She sighed, thumbed a final word on the phone, and looked behind her, eyes ready to roll.

  Only to meet Henry Just’s level gaze.

  “Hey.” She felt her entire body relax and warm. “I mean, I’m glad you could come.”

  “I’m glad you asked me.” He drew her into his arms. He smelled good, like sugar and vanilla. “How was your night?”

  “Okay.” She nodded and pulled back. The line had in fact moved, so she scooted forward. “Adelaide’s doing really well. She’s going to be discharged today sometime.”

  “That’s great. You don’t sound so…”

  “Oh, I just have a lot on my mind.” Her fingers found their way to her forehead, because yes, her brain had an overflow of unresolved issues that she didn’t quite know what to do with. “Plus, not enough coffee to function.”

  “I get it. I mean, good, because I thought it was me. Since the last time we saw each other…”

  She was now in front of the counter and the barista looked at her expectantly. Out of haste she ordered her usual, a latte, though a second later she wished that she had something sweet to go with it. She was a mess, trying to manage this crush-filled moment, and a little sugar always made her feel better. Henry handed his credit card over her shoulder and ordered for himself with his easy demeanor and casual familiarity.

  As they waited for their drinks, Regina said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

  They were shoulder to shoulder, and his hands were stuffed in his front pockets. He was half looking at her, half at the baristas making their drinks. Next to the bar counter came the loud roar of the milk steamer. “Regina, I don’t mind getting you coffee. I like you.”

  The words seeped in slowly.

  How was he so open, just saying what he felt? And why couldn’t she be like that, too?

  She looked up at him, at his seemingly shy demeanor. His cheeks were slightly red, vulnerability in his eyes. “You like me?”

  “Yes, I do. So meeting you for coffee, even grabbing you coffee. Sending you a book, hanging out with your goddaughter. I’m down for it. I hope I’m not too forward, but your time here is short.… And at the same time, I don’t want to be a creep, to be around when you might not want me, because I’m not sure if you really want me to be here, or if I’m just forcing something.” The red in his cheeks bloomed to the rest of his face.

  “No, I… I like you, too.” The words popped out before she could stop them. “I’m… I don’t do this a lot, and I’m out of practice. I don’t know how these things progress.” She laughed at how this all seemed so backward. “I mean, you know that. But I really like that you’re around, and that you’re here.”

  “Likewise. And great.” His smile reached from ear to ear.

  It was good the barista called his name, and he stepped away to retrieve the cups of coffee, because Regina had to control her own heated cheeks.

  He handed one cup to her. “Do you have time to sit?”

  She looked at her phone. “I’ve got to get back to the hospital soon. But maybe you could walk me there? We can talk about the cake.”

  His expression slackened. “Right, the cake. Speaking of, I have some time later on today and you can pick out what you’d like, on the cake.”

  “And maybe”—she dared to step out of her comfort zone—“maybe we can talk about where you can take me. After we talk about the cake, I mean.”

  “Oh—I’d like that.” His smile swooped all the way up to his eyes. The sides of his mouth wrinkled, which filled Regina with innocent giddiness.

  He wanted to go out with her. She didn’t have to beg him for time, nor did she have to guess how he felt.

  He was doing everything right. But as she pushed the glass door open and the chime overhead rang, Regina wondered if, in exploring her affection for him, she was adding to her growing list of unresolved issues.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Adelaide

  Adelaide had just endured another visit from a resident, baring her abdomen yet again, when her phone rang. Matt’s name appeared on the screen, along with a photo of him holding Genevieve when she was born, wrapped in a faded, striped hospital blanket. Her daughter was a pink, screaming bundle. Matt’s glasses were slightly askew, a perfect representation of those three days of chaos, from Adelaide’s water breaking in the middle of dinner in a fancy restaurant, being induced, to an eventual C-section, and a second surgery from a nicked bladder from the C-section.

  Soon after giving birth, Adelaide had forgotten all about the trauma, which was superseded by the priorities of motherhood.
She’d forgotten it, anyway, until now, when she was again in a hospital, with a second surgery after a first failed one. Now, when she felt all the consequences of single motherhood, of what was like a single marriage. Yes, she had all the trappings of marriage: support, love, financial backing, and yet, she didn’t have the most important part—her husband.

  Adelaide wanted more. But to say it aloud would make her sound selfish. She’d grown up with a mother who’d endured this life with ease, and Adelaide saw this role as its own brand of heroism. By admitting she found it lacking sometimes—it would make her less of the Army wife she aspired to be.

  Now, all she could do was look at the phone in deliberation. Should she answer it? The last time she’d spoken to her husband, she was still a little out of it on pain meds before emergency surgery, but she was thinking clearly now. A lot had happened in the last three days, and it wasn’t just her physical recovery. It was the realization that came afterward, and what she would need to tell him.

  In a brief interlude of bravado, she snatched the phone off the nightstand and clicked on the green button. “Hello.”

  Matt’s voice was haggard. “Adelaide. Damn it. Gah, I’m sorry. I’m just… I am literally about to go out of my mind. Why won’t you speak to me?”

  Adelaide felt his panic; she could see his face as he spoke, and a wave of guilt crashed upon her. “I’m sorry, babe.”

  “Don’t I’m sorry me, because now I’m wondering what’s going on. And don’t tell me it’s medical, because I know that’s not it. Whatever it is, just say it instead of letting me sit here in another country to try to sort out where I went wrong.”

  Matt’s stress level had always come first. And she didn’t think this was some sort of martyrdom—it was the truth. Not only was he the breadwinner, but in the entire scheme of their world, as dramatic as that sounded, her stress paled in comparison to his. Her entire mission up to this point was to grow and keep a family. She wasn’t sure how to explain that she had reached her limit when she had lived such a privileged life.