by C. M. Newman
CHAPTER TEN: GREEN
They were a quarter of the way into a movie whose only promising aspect was an exciting car chase when Vince put aside the can of cashews, laying a hand on his upset stomach. Angela was too engrossed in the movie and now in a stack of Oreos to notice right away. Vince attempted to will away the nausea, but it only got worse. He should have known better, he thought, than to have eaten so much at dinner when his appetite and willing body so rarely aligned lately. It was too late for one of his pills to help now.
“Ohhh,” Angela moaned; Vince looked over to see what was the matter. “They killed that poor dog…”
“At least a dozen people have died on screen so far and you’re worried about the dog?” Vince asked, straightening his head again and resting it back against the headboard.
“I guess because animals are so helpless—hey, are you all right? You look kind of…green. I didn’t know that could actually happen,” Angela said, putting her cookies down when she saw Vince with his eyes closed.
“Not feeling my best,” Vince admitted. “Nauseous.”
“Best way to beat nausea is to, well…” Angela said grimly. “Want me to go? I can go.”
“Yeah, I’d rather not have an audience if that’s all right. I’m sorry.”
“No, no, don’t apologize,” Angela said hastily. “You know I’m right next door. Let me know if you need anything, or if you’re feeling better and want to start the movie back up.”
Vince nodded and watched Angela walk out. The second the door clicked shut, he fled to the bathroom.
—
Not quite sure what force carried her feet, Angela found herself walking to the grocery store again. She hadn’t known what else to do besides leave Vince’s room, especially when he’d confirmed that he didn’t want her there. Yet she wished she’d had the nerve to insist on staying, even if he was a grown man, fully capable of taking care of himself. She grabbed a hand basket and roamed through the store in search of ginger ale, tea, and soda crackers. Her phone rang in her pocket.
“Hey, Fitz”.
“Hey, yourself.”
“What’s up?” she asked. “How’s the case going?”
“It’s moving along. How’s Vince? Are you with him?”
“He’s not feeling great. I was just with him but he had to, uh…well, he’s not doing too great. I’m at the store.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s nauseous and I don’t know what else to do about it. He didn’t want me there,” Angela said matter-of-factly. “But if he throws up and still doesn’t feel better, he shouldn’t have to lie there in misery. I’m getting some supplies.”
“Huh.”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me. What’s that all about?”
“It’s just not really like you to go all…maternal.”
“Excuse me, since when am I not maternal? Are you saying I’m cold?” Angela baited him.
“You’re not cold. You’re sensitive and caring, don’t get me wrong. But you’ve never struck me as the type to go grocery shopping for someone with an upset stomach,” Harry said carefully.
“Like I said, I didn’t know what else to do,” Angela said with a bit of anxiety. “So, Vince said you told him not to come out to Boston after the custodial.”
“I did. How did that go, by the way?”
Angela groaned. “It didn’t, really. She wouldn’t talk. We almost had her, but…anyway, it turned more into Vince asking her what she wanted to leave behind.”
“Sounds…deep.”
“It was, kind of,” Angela said, turning down another aisle just to pass the time. She had what she needed. “While I don’t think a death row inmate with no sense of remorse was the most relatable person for him to talk to, I think it’s kind of good for him to think about his last days in terms of what he wants to do with them.”
“What would you do if you were him?”
Angela made a non-committal sort of noise. “I don’t know. Make amends, I suppose. See people I haven’t seen, maybe travel. Think of all the things I’ve always wanted to do but couldn’t because I work sixty hours a week.”
“I see. And how’re you taking all of this?” Harry asked not so casually. “We haven’t had a chance to talk about it.”
“I honestly don’t know,” Angela said to one of her closest confidants. “I haven’t really lost anyone close to me since I was a little kid. It’s definitely going to be hard to lose Vince.” The thought of walking past his empty office stepped boldly without permission into the forefront of her mind. Despite the fact that she knew Vince wouldn’t truly be gone when he left the team—that he had several months left to live—the thought still made her eyes sting. “What about you?” she asked, eager to divert the attention away from herself.
“I’ve lost my fair share of loved ones and it never gets easier.”
Angela sucked on her lips in an effort to hold the tears at bay. Harry was the first person she’d really talked to about Vince in any sort of depth. She’d already been thinking these things on her own, of course, but wondering them aloud was different.
“Can I ask you something?” Angela asked.
“Shoot.”
“What’s it like? I mean…” She stopped and emitted an odd laugh. “How do you move past that?”
“With a little scotch and a lot of time,” Harry replied. “And working through it. Distraction is great. This job’ll be a blessing, trust me.”
“Sounds like good times,” she said dryly. “Don’t you think it might be better for Vince if he and I come out to Boston, then? I mean, especially after today. He wasn’t too pleased with this being his last task. Maybe he needs a distraction.”
“You think he should come out here and exhaust himself? Why? Don’t you trust us to take care of business?” he asked with a hint of playfulness.
“You know that has nothing to do with it. That’s not even funny. But you know Vince. This job is his life. He’s worse than any of us.”
“He’s starting a new part of his life,” Harry pointed out.
“Of course he is, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still end this one with something to be proud of. You didn’t see him today. I feel awful for him. Granted, it could’ve been worse, but still.”
“I’m not the boss of him, Angela. He’s technically still mine. If he wants to come out here, then fine. If he does decide to stay behind, stay with him at the office tomorrow. Keep him occupied.”
“Of course.”
“And maybe bring him a casserole over the weekend,” Harry teased. “Anyway, I’d better get going. Lots to do here. Go baby him.”
“Leave me alone. Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
Angela ignored the strange look from the cashier who had already rung her up once today, then made her way back to the hotel. She mulled over what Harry had said. She wondered if Vince would be better off on a case or with one slow day in the office followed by the upcoming weekend. She wondered if she was acting out of character by showing that she cared. She wondered—and this made her nearly as sick to her stomach as Vince was—what kind of person she would be, come autumn when he was gone. The trip back to the hotel was an unhurried one and provided her with far too much time to go on thinking about these things.
She couldn’t go to Vince’s room right away, not now that tears trickled down her pink cheeks and her sinuses were stopped up, causing her head to throb dully. All she could see in her overactive imagination was his office door, clearly visible from her desk; the room was empty, untouched. Something she would have insisted on.
As much as she respected Harry and as much faith as she had in his abilities, she couldn’t see him in Vince’s place. Orders and insight wouldn’t be the same coming from someone else. She had grown too comfortable over the years, too used to looking up to Vince, admiring him even when she hated him. She knew Harry was equally worthy of such esteem, maybe even more so given that his tenure with the Bureau was longer than Vince’s, but the team
would never be the same. Maybe it would function just as well, but no matter where the orders came from, she couldn’t imagine it ever feeling normal again.
Today hadn’t just been Vince’s last important day on the job. It had been her last day on an assignment with her partner.
She finally yielded to the weeping and ducked into the bathroom for some tissues. They felt like sandpaper, but they did the trick. Half an hour after her return, when her nose was going raw and her makeup was history, she of course heard a knock at her door.
She couldn’t ignore him. Not knowing that he might need her for something, or that he wanted some company again. Even if neither of those things was true, it was still early in the evening and she couldn’t really feign being asleep. After a quick assessment in the bathroom mirror and the sad realization that there was no way Vince wouldn’t notice what she’d been up to, she opened the door. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he echoed, his brow furrowing immediately at the sight in front of him. “What’s the matter?”
Angela shook her head in what she knew very well to be a futile effort to ward off a friend’s questioning. “I’m fine. Are you feeling better?”
“For the most part, yeah. Sorry about that again.”
“Come on, you couldn’t help it.”
“Still…” For a moment, Angela thought she might be lucky enough to escape further interrogation, but Vince motioned that he wished to come in. “What about you?”
“What about me?” she asked, letting the door close.
Vince followed Angela to the bedroom area and leaned against the dresser while she took the foot of the bed. “I’d like to say it’s none of my business, and I guess that wouldn’t be a lie, but I’d prefer you let me in, unless it’s something completely unrelated. Bad breakup, maybe?”
Angela laughed. “A relationship? That’s a laugh.”
“Sophie’s married.”
Angela shrugged. “She found the right guy.”
Vince crossed his arms. “Would you rather talk about dating, or what’s really bothering you?”
This earned him an annoyed look. “There’s no ‘none of the above’ option?” Angela asked.
“I don’t think that would be wise. But…if you really don’t want to talk about it, I can go.”
“Fitz called,” Angela said before Vince could make a move to leave. She preferred his presence, even if it meant having to come clean in some way.
“Oh.” Vince relaxed his body. “Just checking in?”
Angela nodded, propping her elbow up on her crossed legs. “He said the case is moving along and he wanted to know how you were doing.”
“Did you tell him I was reviewing my dinner?”
Vince’s lightheartedness was almost bothersome to Angela, who saw her own emotional display as sillier and sillier the more cavalierly he treated the entire situation. “Yeah, I told him you weren’t feeling well. Sorry, I couldn’t lie.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“And he wanted to know how the custodial went. I told him that didn’t go well either. I don’t know why he didn’t just call you, honestly.”
“He cares, but doesn’t want me to worry myself about it. Doesn’t want to coddle me. Did he want anything else?”
“I don’t know if it was part of why he called,” Angela said, knowing Vince wasn’t going anywhere until she opened up to him a little more and knowing that he could drag this conversation on for hours if he wanted to, “but he asked how I was doing.”
“In what sense?”
Angela rolled her eyes and saw the newest plastic shopping bag near Vince’s feet. He didn’t seem to have noticed it yet. “With this…whole thing,” she said, waving her hand in a circle. “With you.”
“And?”
“And what?” Angela asked, looking up.
“How are you doing?”
Angela’s mouth slanted and her eyes wandered up to the ceiling. “How does it look like I’m doing?” she asked with a twitch of her eyebrows.
Vince’s demeanor took a turn for the more serious. “What can I do?”
“That’s the hard part. And that’s why I’ve been so closed up about it. There’s nothing you can do, so there’s no sense in bothering you with it.”
“I can listen,” Vince said simply, taking a seat on the other bed.
It wasn’t an offer. He expected her to talk. Angela couldn’t comprehend why he was pushing the matter so fervently, why he didn’t want to go on pretending she was fine. That surely would have been easier on him. But he was here, rooted to his spot until she gave him something in the way of a conversation.
“I honestly don’t know what’s going on in my head. I think that’s what’s bothering me so much, the uncertainty. There’s only one sure thing in this entire situation, and that’s you dying,” Angela said, her voice going rickety upon the issuance of her last few words. “Other than that, I don’t know. And I hate not knowing what lies ahead. Sure, I have a sense of adventure, but this doesn’t fall under that umbrella.” She felt like this was as far as she could go on the matter; she feared that proclaiming that she would miss Vince would cross another line beyond the one she’d apparently already crossed by shopping for him without being asked.
“Things will get better,” Vince replied. Angela looked up at him through her fogged eyes and saw his jaw shift to the side. “They change. They never go back to exactly the way they were, but you do move past it. Just remember that it’s not something you can control. You just have to roll with the punches.”
“What’s with that, anyway?” Angela said in a small outburst of aggravation. “What on earth have you done to deserve this and not really have the chance to fight it? Haven’t you been through enough?”
“There are a lot of people who have it far worse than I do,” Vince said after a prolonged pause filled with thoughts of how to talk Angela down. “At least I have the luxury of time…time to get my affairs in order, be with Charlie. In that sense it’s less cruel than a sudden death.” He sounded clearer now, like he wasn’t going to cry after all, which renewed Angela’s frustration with her own emotions.
“Already finding the silver lining?”
“I have to. I can’t spend the next several months feeling sorry for myself. I’m sure I will feel that way at times, but I can’t let that be the prevailing attitude. That would be a waste of the time I’ve been given—time I’ve been given again. I could’ve died that night I got shot, but I didn’t, and I wasted three years thinking that didn’t matter. I’ve been blessed with another…warning, so to speak. I can’t ignore it again.”
“And here I am bringing you down,” Angela said, rolling her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Angela thought she saw Vince’s left hand twitch, but if it did, it stayed put, clasped with the other. “This isn’t the last of your time, Angela. Spend it in whatever way makes it easier. All I’m saying is this is the time that I have left, and I want to spend as much of it as I can manage being grateful for even having time.”
“I’ll miss you.” The words came out of nowhere, too quickly to stop them. “We all will,” Angela added hastily.
“Can I ask you something?” Vince asked after another pensive break.
“Sure.”
“Why are you so afraid to admit you’ll miss me? Not the team, but just you. We’ve been partners for years. And we’re friends, are we not?”
“Of course we are. You’re one of my best friends.”
“Good. Then you’re allowed to care. It’s not a crime.”
Angela couldn’t keep herself from believing that it felt like one, that her broken heart was for more than just a dear friend. “I still don’t get how you’re doing this,” she said, ignoring his comment. “Keeping it together. You’ve only known for two days.”
“I have my moments, trust me. Like telling Jen, telling Charlie, those were both a little rougher than talking to you guys. Charlie because—well, that’s obvious, an
d Jen because she was the first person I told. And like when you asked me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life—that was difficult. I still don’t have a clue. If it makes you feel better, I don’t like the uncertainty either. Not knowing how Charlie will fare, most importantly. Not knowing if his aunt will be enough for him, no matter how much she loves him. Not knowing how long it’ll take you guys to regain your momentum…”
Angela gave a slow, solemn nod and rubbed her thighs again briskly. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Reminding me that I don’t have it so bad, really. Not in comparison, anyway.”
“That wasn’t really my intention. I just want you to know that you’re not the only one who’s scared. I wish this was all a bad dream just as much as anyone else does.”
“Tell me about it. What I wouldn’t give to wake up right now…”
“Come here,” Vince said, standing.
“What? No, I’m fine,” Angela said with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“You can’t turn down a hug. It’s bad form.” Vince motioned with his hands for Angela to get up. She relented partly out of not wanting to be rude and partly out of wanting nothing more right now than to be held by him, even if it meant an ounce of something it wasn’t supposed to mean. As if she weren’t already warm enough, her body overheated with Vince’s embrace.
“I hate this,” she muttered.
“So do I.” But having Angela in his arms for the first time, smelling the fruitiness in her hair, learning the curvature of her back, feeling her cling to him, made Vince want to start a list of the good things that had happened since his diagnosis. “Do you realize we’ve worked together six years—”
“And just now hugged?” Angela laughed nervously and pulled away from the hug before her imagination could wander off on her.
“Yeah. Though you did practically bathe in my blood once. That’s something, I suppose.”
Angela made a displeased face. “You have the strangest sense of humor. So are you really feeling better? Not nauseous anymore?”
“A little, but the worst of it’s nothing I can’t handle, and I have pills, I just hadn’t taken one before. I did just now, so I should be fine.”
Angela nodded and crouched down to the floor to pick up her second round of purchases. “When Fitz called, I was at the store picking up some stuff. I don’t know if any of it will actually help, but it might be worth a try. Peppermint tea usually does the trick for me, but I got crackers just in case. And ginger ale, too, with actual ginger, not just the fake stuff.”
Vince took the bag and peered inside, a grin playing at his lips. “Thank you. How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t. You picked up dinner. Now we’re even.”
“Fair enough. Care to finish that movie?”
“Can we maybe watch something a little more uplifting?” Angela suggested, following Vince out of her room.
“Sure.”
“Oh, did you call the warden and see if Whittaker changed her mind about talking?”
“Yeah,” Vince said. “She refuses to see us again.”
“Okay. We’ll call again in the morning. Do you think you maybe want to go to Boston after all? Fitz admitted he’s not the boss of you when I told him you might want one last case under your belt before you’re done.”
“I don’t know. I’d miss a weekend with Charlie, most likely.”
“Right,” Angela realized.
“I suppose I have the night to think about it,” he said, letting them into his room.
Angela filled up the tiny coffee pot in the bathroom sink. “Tea?”
“What, no beer?”
“I’m cutting you off,” Angela said good-humoredly enough to set Vince at ease. “Now sit down and find us a movie that’ll make this all go away for two hours.” When she looked up from opening the box of teabags, Vince was staring at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing. Movie with a happy ending, coming right up.”
