Chasing Charlie

by C. M. Newman

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX: TIPPING POINT

  “And this is why I’m never having kids,” Sophie remarked secretively to Angela, watching Charlie run around the zoo’s party room with his friends, all of whom had had far too much sugar in the form of cake and ice cream after a two-hour tour of the zoo.

  “Oh, come on, why not?” Angela said with a smile. “Doesn’t Paul want kids?”

  “Not really. That was an agreement we made when we got married, actually. What about you, though? I mean, you could still have a baby with Vince, no?”

  “We talked about it and decided not to.” Her answer was short and simple enough that it invited no questioning as to its logic. She didn’t want to open up that wound again. “But if you and Paul have been together that long and Vince and I have been together for two months, how does that make us more ready than you?”

  “Because your love is the stuff fairy tales are made of. But I’ll leave you alone if your mind is made up,” Sophie said with restraint. “So, tell us about your trip,” she added when Harry showed up to join their conversation.

  While Angela gave a basic account of their vacation, Vince was busy counting how many ways Mitch could sneak marijuana into their conversations. He was just about to note that Charlie’s friends’ parents would be arriving soon when Jenna asked for a minute with him. She stuffed a large bunch of wrapping paper into a smaller and smaller wad while she and Vince moved a few feet away.

  “What’s up?” Vince asked.

  Jenna glanced over toward Angela. “I just realized that your one month…anniversary, or whatever you want to call it, is tomorrow.”

  Vince nodded. “Yeah, I was meaning to ask you if you wouldn’t mind watching Charlie Tuesday night. If not, that’s okay. I’m sure we could find someone else or do it another night.”

  “Of course I don’t mind,” Jenna said sincerely. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out tomorrow night, though?”

  Vince laughed softly. “I’d love to, but I’m still exhausted from the trip. Today’s enough of an adventure. I think we need a day where nothing’s going on. I thought we’d take a couple days to rest.”

  “What did you do yesterday? I thought you got home Thursday night,” Jenna said.

  Just then, Charlie approached Vince for some reason and heard what Jenna had asked. “We had my family party,” Charlie informed her. “It was just me and Daddy and Uncle Mitch and Angela. Daddy and Angela got me a new bike and Uncle Mitch got me a real Cubs jersey and then we all went out to dinner and they sang a song and gave me free ice cream,” he said all in one breath.

  “A family party, huh?” Jenna said to Charlie. “And a new bike and a jersey? That’s pretty cool. Ooh, it looks like someone’s parents are here.”

  “That’s Colin’s mom and dad,” Charlie said.

  “The why don’t you go get Colin and let him know?” Jenna said. Once Charlie was out of earshot, Jenna showed Vince as much of the hurt in her eyes as she could in public. “Family party? Really? Come on, Vince. And before you can accuse me of insinuating anything, I’m not trying to say that Angela isn’t his family. But I am, too. If you could treat me like it, that would be great.”

  Vince didn’t have time for an apology. Colin’s parents, who had gladly accepted the last-minute invitation for Colin to come, were waving as they approached him. He knew saying hello to them would be the least awkward parent-to-parent interaction he had that day, since they had already spent time together earlier in the week. Most of the other parents had spoken mainly to his bald head when they’d dropped their children off for the party, eventually prompting him to steal Mitch’s baseball cap. It wasn’t until all of Charlie’s friends had been retrieved and their mess was cleaned up that Vince had a moment to think again about what Jenna had said. He knew he owed her an apology for slighting her, but that sounded far beyond his brain capacity right now.

  “You okay?” Angela asked, passing by Vince with a garbage bag.

  “Fine,” Vince said quietly, peering over Angela’s shoulder where Jenna was hugging and kissing Charlie goodbye.

  Mitch walked up to Vince with a slice of cake. “Hey, stoner, want the last piece?”

  —

  “How’re you holding up?” Mitch asked Angela. Vince had fallen victim to the drowsiness before Charlie’s bedtime. Angela had just tucked Charlie in.

  “What do you mean?” she asked in reply, bending over to pick up some new action figures Charlie had neglected to put away before bed. The whole living room needed tidying after all his gifts had been opened, really, but she didn’t quite feel like doing that right now.

  “It’s a lot to take on,” Mitch said with a shrug. “Busy at work, then coming home to this…”

  “I don’t think I spend my time any differently than I would in a more normal marriage,” Angela said casually.

  “What about emotionally, though? Doesn’t it wear down on you?”

  “Of course it does. But I knew what I was getting myself into. I forfeited my right to feel sorry for myself. I did not, however, forfeit my right to the occasional cigarette,” she said, eying Mitch meaningfully.

  “Am I gonna get in trouble?” Mitch asked warily, getting up and heading to the front door to get his cigarettes from his coat pocket.

  “I’m allowed,” Angela reassured him. “You gonna come with me or stay up here?” Angela asked.

  “I could use one before bed,” Mitch said. He waited for Angela to jot down a quick note and then followed her downstairs and outside.

  “Oh, I needed this,” Angela moaned with the first drag. “I know this sounds wrong, but thank you for smoking. Vince really doesn’t mind that I smoke occasionally but I don’t want to push it and keep them in the apartment. If I did that I’d be smoking like a chimney.” Angela plopped down on the bench used mostly for this purpose by the other tenants; Mitch remained propped up against the brick wall.

  “You sound stressed.”

  Angela flicked her cigarette’s ashes behind her and gave Mitch a look. “Of course I’m stressed. Just because I said my life is pretty normal doesn’t mean I’m not stressed. Aren’t you stressed?”

  “Of course I am. Sorry.”

  Angela softened. “No, I’m sorry. I’m being snippy. After this cigarette, I’ll be better, I promise.”

  Mitch shook his head. “No big deal. Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s not something I wanna bring up with Vince quite yet because he seems to be in a good mood and I don’t wanna make him spend time thinking about it unless he has to, but I’m curious…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you know what his plans are? For…you know, the end? Where he’ll…” Mitch stopped and shifted his jaw.

  “Here,” Angela said gently. “When the time comes that he can’t take care of himself or Charlie on his own, I’ll be taking leave from work, and then once he starts hospice care, I’ll be his caregiver.”

  “You’re not gonna hire someone?”

  “I didn’t marry him so I could let someone else step in and do it all,” Angela replied. “And I know he’ll give me grief at first because he already hates it enough when he can’t do something as simple as carry Charlie to bed when he falls asleep on the couch, but we’ve already agreed on it.”

  “Well, given how proud he is, I’m sure you’re right about him giving you grief. He won’t like not being able to take care of himself and he won’t want to be a burden to you, but I think he’ll still be glad it’s you in a way.”

  “Hope so,” Angela said.

  “Hopefully I can get a good amount of time off so I can be here, too, at least for the very end. I guess if that’s all right with you guys.”

  “Mitch, you’re his brother. You have more of a right to be with him than I do.”

  Mitch shrugged Angela’s comment off. “What about afterwards?”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, Charlie will be living with Jenna, right?”

 
“Yeah, but I’ll still see him as much as I can. I think she and I have an understanding.”

  “Well, as long as you think you have an understanding, I guess that’s all settled,” Mitch said sarcastically.

  “Well, it’s not like I can go demanding Vince to put this all in his will. Besides, even if Jenna and I aren’t best friends, it’s not like she’d keep me from seeing him. She doesn’t hate me and she wants what’s best for Charlie. I trust her.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t trust her any further than I can throw her,” Mitch said grimly. “Don’t ever repeat that.”

  Angela’s mouth drooped. “I won’t. But I don’t think you should, either. Especially not to me. I can’t think like that.”

  “You won’t have to think like that if you ask Vince to make it legal,” Mitch said, getting a mild glare from Angela. “Just sayin’…he knows you love Charlie and vice versa. I don’t think he’d have a problem with it if you asked him.”

  “It’s not my place,” Angela said decisively.

  “Whatever. I’m gonna head back up,” Mitch said, putting his cigarette out against the bricks.

  “You don’t have to go,” Angela protested. “I’m sorry. I’m not being very receptive. You’re trying to be sensible and I’m shooting you down.”

  “That’s because you don’t really wanna talk and I keep pushing it. It’s cool.”

  “Don’t go,” Angela all but pleaded.

  “What good am I doing? The stuff I wanna talk about, you don’t, and like I said, that’s fine. It really sounds like you just need some time to yourself, outside of that stupid apartment. Even if it’s literally just outside.” Mitch held his hand out for the apartment key.

  “I really didn’t mean to come off as unapproachable,” Angela said.

  “Relax, don’t worry about it. Here. Finish ‘em if you need to, I’ve got another pack.” Mitch tossed Angela the rest of the cigarettes.

  All it took for Angela to realize that she needed a minute alone was for someone to insist upon it. And all it took for her to realize that she was not just stressed but overly so, that she was exhausted, that she was anything but okay, was to turn that minute alone into an hour, and to turn one more cigarette into the remainder of the pack.

  By the time she headed back upstairs, she reeked of smoke and her cheeks were caked with silent tears that were the result of a myriad of emotions she couldn’t sort through if she tried.

  How much it tore her to pieces to see Vince running himself into the ground. How much more real this became with every single day that passed no matter whether his medicine was helping. The way her heart stopped for a moment when she thought about life without him. Her frustration at her inability to hold a friendly conversation with someone who just wanted to help How terrified she was of the uncertainty of her future with a little boy to whom she had grown far too close. All of it had managed to work its way under her skin in ways she never let it when she had nowhere to hide, and she was a mess when Mitch unlocked the door for her.

  “Whoa…did I mess up that much?” Mitch asked timidly.

  Angela shook her head and sniffled, heading straight to the sink for a glass of water. She chugged it down in a matter of seconds.

  “Stupid rhetorical kind of question but, are you…okay?”

  Angela leaned against the counter and crossed her arms over her stomach, nearly swallowing her lips. She shook her head and stared at the floor. “No. Don’t tell him,” she begged, her chin crinkling as she tried to hold back more tears.

  “About the cigarettes? I don’t think I’ll need to,” Mitch said.

  “No, about me breaking down. He really needs to relax, and he won’t if he knows I was short with you and chain-smoked half a pack of cigarettes and sat outside crying.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Mitch promised. “What’s the plan for Easter dinner?”

  Angela frowned. “Are you serious?”

  “I was asking so I could help cook. Chill. What’s on the menu?”

  She softened up. “Ham, scalloped potatoes, green bean casserole…all of Vince’s favorites.”

  “Can I take on ham duty? I can cook a mean pig.”

  Angela grinned. “Sure. Thanks.”

  —

  At first, it didn’t register with Vince why Maria approached him with such a blank face when he took his seat Wednesday morning, hopefully ready for whatever chemotherapy had to throw at him this time. He suspected the worst, though, when he saw the familiar ragged stuffed dog she carried, and his suspicions were confirmed when she took a seat next to him, a seat that wasn’t yet filled by its typical occupant. He suddenly remembered how well he knew that well-composed face—he’d perfected it over the years, as he was now aware Maria had done as well.

  She didn’t need to say a thing except that she was sorry.

  “How?” Vince asked before the tears started their inevitable assault.

  “Kidney failure,” Maria said. “Things had been worsening for a while. Her mother donated one last week when it got bad enough for the doctors to stop worrying about whether Frankie’s body could handle the operation, but Frankie’s body rejected the kidney anyway. They didn’t have time to find another match before she passed away.”

  “When did this all happen?” Vince asked the floor.

  “I don’t know the day, exactly. I can find out.”

  Vince shook his head shortly. “And when did she…”

  “Saturday. They made sure she was comfortable. It didn’t drag out.”

  “I can’t believe this…”

  “Well, sweetie, she was stage four. You know that’s never a good prognosis.”

  “What?” Vince asked, his eyebrows slanting deeply. “She was stage three. Stage two when I started, then she progressed and they admitted her.”

  Maria bit her lip. “I didn’t know she lied to you, I’m sorry. She was stage three, then progressed to four. I don’t know if I should tell you this, too, but…she’d been having a lot of complications since before you started coming here. Even before they admitted her for the last time, she’d already been in and out of the hospital quite a bit. I guess she didn’t want you to worry.”

  “How do you do this?” he asked.

  “Trust me, it never gets easy, honey. I’m so sorry. I know she gave you a reason to smile. She did that for all of us. But you know what?” Maria said, cupping Vince’s bonfy knee.

  Vince didn’t say anything, but didn’t discourage Maria’s chatter either.

  “You gave her a reason to smile, too. You and your wife. I know that meant a lot to her. She apparently told her family all about you. Her father came by just before you got here today. He said Frankie said this was yours.” Maria handed over the dog, which Vince held on to as if his life depended on it. He wrenched his face up. While he had been off on vacation, pretending he hadn’t been read his own death sentence three months ago, Frankie had been suffering, had maybe even wanted to say goodbye to him one last time, but surely that was something Maria wouldn’t tell him if she knew.

  “Did you want information for the funeral? It’s Saturday,” Maria said, her hand migrating to Vince’s quivering back once he mostly folded over his knees. He nodded minutely, rolling the tears back into his eyes once Maria walked away.

  Vince never fully looked forward to chemotherapy. The side effects were too torturous for him to be glad to walk into this room, to be infused with poison that was supposed to slow his sickness. But Frankie had made his sessions at least a little brighter. As he looked through glassy eyes around the room full of sick people—some of whom might also have known Frankie as well—he couldn’t help but wonder how this would be bearable for him now. He made a conscious choice not to make another friend here, not when this unjust and sudden passing reminded him of his own mortality that he tried his best to ignore every day. He knew he didn’t have it in him to handle another loss, not while he dealt with the constant pressure on other fronts—doing his best to take care of himself
and Charlie, wondering how to deal with his son’s future appropriately, watching Angela bottle everything up so he wouldn’t have to know she was dying right along with him.

  No, once was enough. From now on, chemotherapy would be a silent and somber affair. He would pass the time with books and naps instead of conversation. He knew all too well from his struggles with Angela that emotional investment in someone whose existence was immediately at risk was a bad idea. Yet again, he found himself feeling like some sort of criminal for allowing Angela to go through this as well.

  “Can I get you anything, honey?” Maria asked sweetly when she returned with a handwritten note for Vince.

  “I’ll be okay, thank you,” Vince said stuffily.

  “For what it’s worth, she thought you were the absolute coolest person she’d ever met. She didn’t even have to come to the chemo center for her infusions anymore once she was admitted.”

  “She didn’t?”

  Maria shook her head. “But she insisted. She wanted to see her friend.”

  Vince waited until Maria had started up his infusion before he reclined his chair and counted the loud, dull beats of his heart. He knew he must look like quite the fool, lying in his chair, stroking the tattered ear of a stuffed puppy while he cried, but he supposed he had seen more pitiful displays during his three months as a patient here. He liked to think it was a judgment-free zone.

  His tears were short-lived, at least for now. He quietly cried himself to sleep like he had known Angela to do on plenty of occasions when she’d thought he’d been in too deep a slumber to hear. Though he hadn’t thought he was too terribly tired when he’d gotten out of bed that morning, he slept soundly through the rest of his session, awakening to see his IV bag empty next to him. “How long was I out?” he asked gruffly when Maria saw that he was awake and came to remove his needle.

  “You just finished up about twenty minutes ago,” she replied. “I didn’t wanna wake you up. You looked like you needed the sleep.”

  “My ride’s probably wondering where I am,” Vince said.

  “She’s actually out in the lobby. She said she tried calling you when you normally get out and didn’t get an answer. I told her you’d gotten a late start, that’s all.”

  “Thank you,” Vince said. Out of habit, he turned to say goodbye to his friend. Her absence called forth the awful moment when he remembered how much his world had been turned upside down before he’d closed his eyes. He gathered his things and went to the restroom located inside the center to splash some cold water on his face before he met Jenna.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked right away.

  Vince waited until they were a ways down the hallway before he answered, as if saying it too close to his and Frankie’s world would make her death too real. “Frankie passed away.”

  “Oh, Vince, I’m so sorry,” Jenna breathed, laying her hand on his back. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Vince was about to shake his head instinctively, but he changed his mind. “I don’t want Charlie to see me like this. Do you think instead of the usual, you could just drop me off at my place, then pick him up from school and keep him with you for a few hours? At least until Angela gets out of work. If I need to, I can play tired and go to bed before he gets home. I just don’t want him to see—”

  “Absolutely. Whatever you need.”

  —

  All the things Vince should have been worried about failed to take root in his brain. His new day-of-treatment drugs were working rather well in the fight against nausea on chemotherapy days—something the Marinol alone wasn’t able to do—but he didn’t notice. He was hungry for lunch, but he didn’t care. His back was a little sore, but his pills were down the hall and that sounded like an awfully long way to walk in order to alleviate an ache that paled in comparison to the one in his heart.

  The couch wasn’t comfortable. Standing in a hot shower proved pointless. The bed was too lonely. He didn’t want to associate his bed with this sort of pain anyway—not yet—and he was too tired for a walk, so he lay back in the recliner and told himself it was okay to fall asleep again, that it might even be a good thing to do so. His phone buzzed to life the instant he closed his eyes, though. “Hey,” he said groggily.

  “Hey, how did chemo go?” Angela asked somewhat absentmindedly. She must have been multitasking.

  Vince again found himself incapable of speaking right away. He sat forward and dug the heel of his free hand into his forehead.

  “Vince?”

  He contemplated saving the news for when Angela got home, knowing she would probably be out of the office by the time he finished his sentence. However, he suddenly couldn’t imagine spending the next three hours alone. “Got a couple of minutes?” he asked politely.

  “For you? Of course. What’s wrong?”

  As if he needed another reason to hate himself, Vince realized with bitterness that he had rarely answered Kate’s pleas like Angela had just answered his. “Frankie…passed away,” he murmured this time. “While we were gone. Kidney failure.”

  There was dead silence for a moment, then a strangled sigh from Angela. “Oh my goodness…”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m so sorry…oh, Vince. Are you…are you gonna be okay? No, you know what? This is ridiculous. I’ll be home soon.”

  Vince didn’t bother with a halfhearted protest against Angela bailing on her job for the umpteenth time. Even if nothing she could say would make this world a less cruel place, he at least figured that her being by his side could numb things a little. There was also the fact that no matter how firmly he insisted she stay there, he knew she wouldn’t listen.

  “Talk to me,” Angela beseeched him.

  “She lied about what stage she was in. She was stage three when I met her and progressed to four. And she’d been in and out of the hospital long before she told me she was admitted. Besides that, there’s nothing to say,” Vince said truthfully. No words, no matter how poetic or touching, would dig him out of this deep, dark hole. What he needed was time, and time was something he didn’t really have.

  “Wow, that’s…would you rather I stay on the line or hang up?” Angela asked, sounding helpless.

  Vince took pity on Angela. He could hear her gathering her things and telling Marshall she would tell him what was going on in a minute. She didn’t deserve to offer up help and for Vince to refuse it. “Sorry, I’m just…”

  Angela waited patiently now for Vince to finish his sentence.

  “I’m so angry,” Vince realized. “It’s not fair,” he said shakily, twisting his lips.

  “I know it’s not. It’s okay to be angry. To be honest, I don’t think you’ve gone there yet, you know? Maybe you need to.”

  Vince nodded to nobody and squeezed his phone with a vice-like grip. Suddenly, throwing something sounded tempting. He wasn’t a violent person, but he didn’t see another solution to the boiling rage.

  “I’d actually better go let Fitz know where I’m going,” Angela said. “Will you be okay until I get home?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll see you in a while, then. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” The second Vince disconnected the call, he did the only thing he knew to do now. He stood, probably too quickly, and chucked his phone down the hardwood floor of the hallway with a furious howl. The phone shattered into several pieces that ricocheted off the baseboards and still spun round and round while Vince’s eyes released a fresh wave of tears. Tears that hadn’t let up by the time Angela got home.

  She happened to head straight down the hallway, assuming Vince would be in bed when she didn’t see his head over the back of the couch. Vince heard her bend down to collect the broken phone pieces. He felt guilty for not cleaning up the mess himself. The couch creaked when he sat up, and Angela turned, gasping.

  “Oh, there you are,” she said. “I didn’t even see you. I, uh, tried calling you to see if you needed me to pick up anything. Guess th
is is why I didn’t get an answer,” she remarked.

  “I got angry,” Vince admitted shamefully, wiping the mess from his face.

  Angela set her things down, kicked off her shoes, and unfolded their blanket that lay across the back of the couch. “C’mere,” she said, sitting down right next to him and opening up her arms. Vince squeezed an arm behind Angela’s waist and let his head fall upon her shoulder. It wasn’t until he was settled in, curled up against her, that she let herself cry with him. “I’m so sorry,” was all she said. She repeated it like a mantra. She contorted her neck to rest her lips atop his head.

  “I thought this was supposed to—get easier,” Vince struggled. “How does this make things easier?”

  “This world is a pretty awful place sometimes,” Angela said. “I’m sorry, I wish I had something more uplifting to say.”

  “I prefer the honesty,” Vince said. “Why would God let this happen?”

  “Because…Frankie’s heart was so big that God wanted her back? I don’t know, sweetheart. But you should ask. And you should talk to Pastor Fenwick, too. He’ll have more words of wisdom than I do. I’m newer at this than you are.”

  Vince didn’t respond at all, just licked his lips and focused on the strange patterns twisting behind his eyelids.

  “You can…stay angry if you need to. Throw something else, break it, punch a hole in the wall, yell at me, swear at me, do whatever you need to do,” she offered.

  “This is fine, actually. I think I got it out of my system.” Vince still wept, but quietly. “You can’t keep taking off from work. I should’ve waited until you got home.”

  “Well,” Angela said, cupping Vince’s shoulder and rolling it in her palm, “Polygamy’s illegal. I had to divorce my job before I could marry you. You’re my number one priority. So don’t worry too much about it.”

  Vince actually let out a chuckle. “How’d you do that?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Make me laugh when I’m crying like a baby.”

  “Lapse in good judgment,” Angela answered. “Now’s not the time for cracking jokes, sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  —

  “I’m sorry your friend died, Daddy,” Charlie said, hugging Vince’s knees Saturday morning when Vince dropped him off at Jenna’s so that he and Angela could attend Frankie’s funeral. It had been a taxing week given that they had a little boy who needed attention and positivity. They could only hide so much of their pain, though, and Charlie had pestered the truth out of them the day before. He took it much better than either one of them had, and understandably so. This made Vince glad for one thing—that he had never introduced Charlie to Frankie.

  “Thank you, buddy,” Vince said. “Be really good for Auntie Jen, okay?”

  Charlie nodded. “What time are you gonna come get me?”

  Vince didn’t dare glance over at Jenna, who was most likely a little stung by those words. “In a few hours. Thanks, Jen,” he added quickly.

  “No problem,” she said with a forced kindness. “I dug out some watercolors, Charlie. Want to paint some pictures?”

  Charlie nodded eagerly and followed Jenna toward the dining room, leaving Vince alone in the kitchen. He let himself out of the house and got back into the passenger seat of the car. “All set?” Angela asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Something happen in there?” Angela asked as she pulled away.

  “Jenna just…takes things personally. Charlie asked when I was going to come get him, and she took that to mean he didn’t want to be there.”

  “Oh.”

  “And Charlie doesn’t know any better than to say those things,” Vince said helplessly.

  Angela lay a hand on Vince’s knee. “I’m sure she’s fine.” She wasn’t the least bit certain of her own words, though. Ever since Mitch had badgered her to talk to Vince about solidifying her visitation rights, she had been watching Jenna’s every move, finding just about everything she did to be suspect. “Let’s just…get through this and we can all get home and rest.”

  “I’m tired of resting,” Vince complained. Before he could stop himself, he started a list. “I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of making it to the weekend and feeling like I can’t enjoy it with you and Charlie because I’m so exhausted from the rest of the week. I’m tired of everything,” he ranted.

  “I know. What can I do?” Angela asked desperately.

  “Find me a medication that settles my stomach without turning me into a zombie,” Vince griped. Though his newest prescriptions did the job they were prescribed to do, they left him feeling tired and lightheaded, sometimes incoherent. He was starting to wonder if it was even worth it, that maybe it was better for everyone else’s sake if he gave up on the chemotherapy altogether.

  “You have no idea how much I wish I could do that,” Angela said with a sigh.

  “I shouldn’t say things like that. I just need to shut up.” Vince dragged his hand down his haggard face and wished for the day to be over. Though he wanted his closure with Frankie, wanted to say goodbye, he didn’t want to sit through a preview of his own funeral to do so. He knew for reasons yet to be discussed with Angela that he would be having a funeral and burial service. He supposed that needed to be brought up eventually, but he had his reasons for avoiding it that had nothing to do with the fact that it was a morbid topic.

  “Hey,” Angela said quietly.

  “What?”

  She turned her hand over and locked fingers with him. “I love you. Let’s…take everything one day at a time, okay? Don’t worry about what the rest of the week has already been like. You’re putting so much pressure on yourself to…ignore your limitations, I guess is the nicest way of putting it. And then you get angry with yourself because you can’t do a sixteen-hour day without a nap.”

  “Tell me you wouldn’t feel the same way,” Vince said morosely.

  “You know what, I would feel the same way. But I’d need someone there to tell me that I didn’t have to try so hard. I’d need someone to give me permission to cut myself a break. You need someone to stand up for you.”

  This effectively stopped Vince’s outward self-loathing. With nothing else to say, he, and, in turn, Angela, spent the rest of the drive in silence.

  “It’s open-casket,” Vince mumbled, sucking in his lips when he and Angela made it inside Frankie’s church, escaping a sudden downpour. He shook off their umbrella and looked down the long aisle to see a procession of mourners waiting to pay their respects before the service started.

  “You gonna be okay?” Angela asked, gripping Vince’s arm.

  “Yeah,” Vince said bravely, though his eyes already burned with imminent tears as they got in line.

  Angela stood by his side in quiet support, though she too knew her eyes wouldn’t be dry for long. A somber hymn played over speakers throughout the large sanctuary for a farewell to a child who, although sick, had still been taken too suddenly. No one spoke above a whisper and no one seemed to be smiling. As Vince and Angela neared the plain casket, they saw that the floor around it was covered in dolls and stuffed animals. Poster boards of ten years’ worth of childhood pictures flanked the arrangement.

  Vince suddenly felt the walls closing in around him once he and Angela were on deck. He could already see a bit of Frankie’s profile over the shoulder of the woman in front of him, so he trained his eyes on his feet instead. Seeing the toys made him wish he had brought her something, but he knew that nothing could have been as meaningful as Chip, which wasn’t his to give away. He knew Charlie’s feelings would have been hurt. He couldn’t imagine giving up the dog for the very same reason—it was Charlie’s gift to him. He hoped that lending it out had been helpful to Frankie, but he was glad to have it back, in an almost childish way.

  The way was now parted for them, granting an unobstructed view of the little girl that had changed both of their lives more than she ever could have comprehended. Vince hadn’t thought of
what he’d do once he reached this point, once he caught a glimpse of her face for the last time. Did he say he was sorry? Did he thank her? Did he tell her silently that if heaven worked the way he hoped it did, he would be able to say hello to her soon and that he was glad she was in a better place? Or did he simply leave it at goodbye?

  His lips quivered as the dam broke. Angela was already pressing a tissue under her nose as she stopped one step behind him to give him a moment to himself.

  A cloud of confusion settled over Vince, robbing him of what little mental clarity his drugs had spared. A sanctuary full of people sat behind him, no doubt wondering why anyone would want to live in a world where such precious lives were simply stolen away. Some of them probably had much better answers than he. Some of them found solace in the fact that Frankie’s family was devout and believed she was indeed with God now. Others were at least glad she was no longer suffering. But Vince, even though he counted himself among the faithful, couldn’t see at the moment how an eternity in heaven could make up for Frankie missing out on so much on earth. Not when she’d been such a joy through her misery.

  The unjustness of it all was only the beginning. In a matter of months, unless an unexpected tragedy struck like it had here, Vince would be every bit as gone as his friend, and people would be left behind just as torn and tattered. No matter how hard he prayed to be dust in the wind, he knew that he had enough people he loved and who loved him that that wouldn’t be the case.

  Though he hadn’t done much with his lonely moment but brood, it ended. Angela stepped up beside him and held his arm again. He covered her hand and closed the final foot between himself and the casket, then reached delicately inside to brush a thumb over the back of Frankie’s hand, eying her eerily calm face framed by her favorite green scarf. Angela apparently didn’t feel comfortable enough doing the same. She simply moved her hand to Vince’s back, caressing it in slow, soothing strokes.

  With a haze over his eyes that grew denser by the second, Vince finally gave the mourners behind him a chance to say goodbye. He led Angela out of the way, stopping at one of the poster boards. Though none of the spirited photographs could bring back the life that had been lost, they emulated it rather well. But no matter how many familiar smiles he saw in front of them, none of them proved comforting, so he led the way toward an outside aisle to find a seat. They were stopped, however, by two people he could only assume were Frankie’s parents given their appearances.

  “Are you Vince and Angela?” the woman murmured, beckoning them out of the way of others.

  “Yes,” Vince replied. “You must be Frankie’s parents.”

  Frankie’s mother, a stout redheaded woman with her makeup splotchy and mostly gone, nodded. “I’m Elaine,” she said, reaching out a hand to shake with both of them. She introduced her tall and stonily silent husband as Gary.

  “May I ask how you knew who we were?” Vince asked, his voice rolling through his congested sinuses.

  Elaine proffered a photograph. Vince held it up and couldn’t help but grin softly at Angela. They sat on either side of Frankie, who happily donned the t-shirt Angela had brought her the day that Maria had snapped the portrait for them.

  “We’d like to thank you,” Elaine choked. “She talked about you nonstop. She never really made friends with the other kids at chemo. She was an old soul. But once she met you and you were receptive to her, every day she came home after seeing you, she had some new story to tell. The only days—she—she really got back from treatment without a smile were days your schedules didn’t overlap. Thank you so much for—for giving her something to be happy about. Not that she ever really needed help in that department, but, well, you know what I mean.”

  Vince nodded solemnly. “You raised a magnificent little girl. I think she did a lot more for me and for Angela than we ever did for her.”

  “Without a doubt,” Angela chimed in.

  “And we’re both incredibly sorry for your loss,” Vince said.

  “Thank you. Do you think I could—would you mind if I hugged you?” Elaine asked.

  Vince answered with open arms, trying to hold himself together while Frankie’s mother thanked him the only way she really knew how. To his surprise, her husband nodded his own thanks and gave Vince and Angela swift hugs as well.

  Vince held the photograph out to Elaine, but she shook her head. “We have another copy. Please, keep that one.”

  “Thank you.”

  Angela followed Vince to a pew, where he stood to the side to let her in first. She wordlessly offered him a tissue, but he declined. She wasn’t quite sure who she pitied more right now—Frankie’s parents or her own husband. Not only was Vince feeling the deep ache of a loss of an integral part of his life over the last few months, but he was possibly even feeling guilty for being afraid to die at his age when he’d lived so much longer than the girl who had passed before him. He was certainly feeling how short life really was, was feeling death reach out a gnarled finger to touch his back, to remind him that it was not far behind him, that it would take a firmer and firmer grasp on him as time passed by all too quickly, that he couldn’t outrun it for long.

  Frankie was in the proverbial better place, of that much Angela was sure. As Vince’s body slackened next to hers throughout the course of the service, she feared that he might be wishing he could follow right along in Frankie’s footsteps, that he didn’t want to try anymore. She couldn’t let herself think that way, though. She had to believe that given a couple of days, Vince would get back to feeling like his old self. He would find a way to come to terms with all of this and accept that he still had a life that he hadn’t finished living.

  Angela listened to Vince’s rich baritone as he managed his way through the harrowing hymns. She sensed him grow more feeble at the sermon that was supposed to be uplifting but was somehow even more doleful than the music. She drove hand-in-hand with him to the cemetery, neither one of them finding a break in the tears for a myriad of reasons. The minister spoke a few platitudes that she didn’t hear over the ringing in her ears. Flowers for over the casket hadn’t been part of the budget and no one had thought to donate any, so the crowd, having found as much closure as they could, dissipated.

  Vince and Angela huddled under their only umbrella, Angela rubbing her damp arms unwisely left uncovered by any sort of jacket. Vince handed her the umbrella and slid his suit jacket off, placing it over her shoulders.

  “I’m okay,” she said, not realizing what he was doing until he’d already done it.

  Vince quieted her with a stern albeit watery stare, and they continued the long walk through the winding, muddy cemetery roads and back to the car.

  —

  Just as suddenly as God had taken home another soul, the living moved on. Recovery was a bit more slow-going for Vince than Angela had hoped, but she supposed it could have been worse. Charlie’s antics and unconditional love kept Vince afloat until his feet could touch bottom again. Over the month following Frankie’s passing, Vince’s spirits rose again and leveled off, though the same couldn’t be said for his physical wellbeing.

  He was lucky now to have one day a week where he wasn’t exhausted. One day a week where Charlie didn’t have to pout when Vince said they had to leave the park after only twenty minutes. One day a week where Vince could stay up more than a few minutes after Charlie’s bedtime and be wakeful with Angela. One day a week where Angela begrudgingly let him use his last ounce of energy to partake in one of his few remaining pleasures, both of them knowing more and more with each passing week that the end of that era was probably near.

  Vince’s weight hadn’t taken a terrible dip over his fourth cycle of treatment thanks to the right medication, but the price he paid was that of his energy, focus, and coherence. He had never been happier to see the end of a cycle of chemotherapy. He looked forward to ten days straight of a much lighter drug regimen, ten days straight spent away from the place he could no longer stand, ten days straight of recovery,
ten days straight of watching the grass and trees go lush and green without having to do so through the windows that overlooked the hospital courtyard.

  He had been nearly giddy with anticipation of spending that time with Angela as well, to being well enough to make this all worth her while, but on the third of his ten free days, the team was called away. It was a Tuesday evening; the family had just sat down for dinner when Angela’s phone rang from her and Vince’s room. She refrained from sighing in annoyance until she was down the hall. “Hey,” she said to Harry, cradling her forehead in her palm, merely waiting for the name of a city. She didn’t give Harry the opportunity to ask her if she was sure she wanted to come. She promised to meet the team in an hour, then opened her go bag to make sure it was stocked. When she turned to head back to the dining room and let Vince know what was going on, she saw him blocking the bedroom doorway.

  “Some Denver suburb,” Angela said with a pitiful shrug. “I’m sorry.”

  Vince beckoned Angela close. She looked much more upset than he felt. He circled his arms around her and dropped a kiss in her hair. “It’s okay. We’ll be fine.”

  “Maybe this should be my last case,” Angela muttered into Vince’s t-shirt.

  “Don’t say that right now. Not when you’re upset about having to leave,” Vince said.

  “I’ll think it over,” Angela promised. “I’d better get going if I want to get there through all the traffic.”

  Vince nodded and guided her chin up so he could kiss her. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “At least let me make you a sandwich before you go. I know you didn’t eat lunch today,” Vince said.

  “Oh yeah, and how do you know that?” Angela asked, shouldering her bag and leading the way back down the hall.

  “Just a lucky guess, actually.” Vince skipped past the table and took to throwing some lunchmeat and cheese between two dry slices of bread so Angela could have a minute to say goodbye to Charlie.

  “Do you have to go on a case?” Charlie asked with a pout.

  Angela squatted down next to Charlie and nodded apologetically. “I do. Sorry, sweetie. I’ll be home as soon as I can, but for now, you and your daddy get to have some time with just the two of you. Doesn’t that sound like fun?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair.

  “But Daddy’s always tired,” Charlie said,

  Angela cleared her throat. “Well, that’s because he had chemo and that makes him sleepy. And so do the pills he had to take during chemo. But now he’s got his week off and he doesn’t have to go to chemo or take all that other medicine.”

  “Will we have fun again like we did at the beach?”

  Angela smiled, though she wanted to cry instead. “Sure. Well, not at the beach, but yeah, I bet you’ll have fun. Can I get a hug and a kiss goodbye?” she asked. Charlie fell into her arms and let her shower him with playful kisses. “I love you,” she said.

  “I love you, too. Is it gonna be a short case like the one you had last time?”

  “I sure hope so.” Angela said before standing upright. Vince waited at the front door with a bagged sandwich and a granola bar.

  —

  Angela didn’t know whether to feel insulted or grateful that Harry assigned her to man tip lines and be on standby at the police department. An officer easily could have done the job while she went and knocked on doors.

  Sophie was out driving with Marshall to question some family members of a victim. Harry had their brand new team member with him—Perry Hirsch, a tall blonde man somewhere in his early thirties. He was by far the youngest person on the team. While everyone else was out in the field, Angela had the tip line routed to a room in the back of the police department.

  “So, how’s Vince?” Sophie asked over the phone.

  Angela took a look at her map of the area and realized just how long of a drive Sophie and Marshall had ahead of them. “He’s…hangin’ in there, I guess,” Angela said a bit miserably.

  “He’s got this week off from chemo, right?” Sophie asked.

  “Yeah. These cases have the best timing, let me tell you,” Angela droned.

  Sophie perked up. “I will make it my personal mission to be even more amazing than usual and get you home ASAP.”

  Angela laughed softly. “Thanks, I appreciate it. Ugh, sitting here is driving me insane. If I wanted to contribute almost nothing to this case, I would’ve just stayed home. Is there anything I can help with?” she asked as she straddled a chair backwards and stared at the phone that wasn’t ringing.

  “Nothing I can think of. If it’s so bad, why don’t you ask Fitz for something else to do? We can all rotate monkey duty if we need to. You’ve been sitting there all day.”

  “I don’t want to come off as ungrateful,” Angela said, sighing. “He knows I’m stressed and he knows I want to be available should Vince need anything. And…I do. But then again, Vince has Jenna, who’s been helping him this whole time. And there’s not much I can do from here. Maybe I should see if I can get out into the field and make myself useful,” she said indecisively.

  “For what it’s worth,” Sophie piped in, “I kind of agree that if you wanted to sit on your cute little tush, you could’ve just stayed home.”

  Angela tapped her fingers on the table and huffed, shaking her head. “I’m gonna go call home really quick. But I can’t question Fitz’s authority like that, I’ll just entertain myself. And I’m here either way, so I might as well suck it up.”

  —

  Two days into the case, Vince was sitting on his favorite park bench while Charlie rode his bike in circles on the grass. Vince was reflecting on a conversation he’d had with Jenna that afternoon when she’d stopped by to deliver some necessities from the pharmacy. It had been a simple question. “How’s Charlie doing with Angela gone again?” she had asked.

  Vince had answered that Charlie was handling things just fine. That much was true. Though Charlie missed Angela and required hearing her voice at least once a day, Vince was regaining some of his energy and was able to make his time with Charlie a little higher quality.

  However, he felt there was something else behind Jenna’s inquiry. Maybe it was a simple dig intended to assert herself as the most suitable mother figure. Or maybe she was really afraid Vince would change his mind about who would get custody of Charlie, and was doing her best to prevent that without simply coming out and saying it. Whatever it was, it still didn’t sit well with Vince a couple of hours later.

  Though it made him feel unappreciative of all of Jenna’s help and support, sometimes Vince wished it was just him, Charlie, and Angela. Other family—save for Mitch—seemed to create more drama than they needed lately. Angela had spoken with her mother a few times since her parents had found out about the elopement, but Angela was very visibly frustrated by the fact that her relationship with her mother still wasn’t back to the point where it had left off. Her mother was still feeling slighted and wasn’t afraid to make passive aggressive comments letting Angela know. Angela’s father, the submissive one in the relationship, didn’t do much of anything to help.

  “Daddy!” Charlie shouted, interrupting Vince from the thoughts that weren’t welcome anyway. He stood up and guarded his eyes from the glare of the sun. While his attention had been focused elsewhere, Charlie had ditched his bike for the swings and was up almost at his highest now. “Come push me! I wanna go higher!”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Vince said, smiling. He found himself able to get Charlie considerably higher. It amplified the mild ache in his back, but he had ways to fix that once they got home.

  “You should go on one too, Daddy,” Charlie said, squealing when he reached the apex of his swing. “Angela said it hurts ’cause her butt’s too big, but yours is skinny.”

  It was impossible to say no to Charlie just now, so Vince lowered himself into a swing and started to pump. The swing was so low to the ground that he had to tuck his feet perfectly und
erneath him on the backswing, but soon he was riding almost as high as Charlie. He felt the pain creep up his arms and through his chest, though, and knew that if he wanted to be fit enough to take care of Charlie for the next few days, or however long the case happened to run, he needed to keep his limitations in mind. So he stopped pumping and let his swing slow to a stop.

  “Do we have to go home?” Charlie moaned.

  “We don’t have to leave. I just need to sit down,” Vince said, squeezing his side as he walked over to the bench. “Thanks for the idea to go on the swings, though. I haven’t done that in a while.”

  “Hey Daddy?” Charlie asked after a while. He now rode his bike again, this time in laps around the bench and the tree near which it sat.

  “Yeah, buddy?”

  “Can I play baseball again this year?”

  “You sure can,” Vince replied. He would have to depend on Jenna’s help that much more, but he would have to swallow his pride like he’d been doing in so many other areas of his life already. “I’ll see when your league signup is.”

  “I’m gonna need bigger cleats ’cause my feet grew.”

  Vince grinned. “So has the rest of you. We’ll get you bigger cleats, don’t worry.”

  “Can you come to all my games?”

  Vince’s heart ached something awful. “I’ll come to as many as I can. I promise.”

  —

  “Hey,” Angela said quietly next to Harry on the plane ride home Saturday evening once the team had wrapped the case. She hadn’t called Vince, thinking it would be a nice surprise to turn up unannounced.

  “Hey,” Harry said with a peaceful smile. He looked over Angela’s shoulder to see the rest of the team sleeping. No one had gotten much rest over the week.

  “Can we…talk?” Angela asked, clasping her hands in front of her. She watched as other passengers tried to stuff their luggage into overhead compartments.

  “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  Angela licked and chewed her lips as she thought of how best to phrase her troubles. “When you called me about this case, I said I’d be there without hesitation, even though the last thing I wanted to do was to leave Vince and Charlie like that.”

  “You didn’t want to come,” Harry said. This wasn’t news. The entire team knew Angela would rather be home.

  She nodded. “But I have a responsibility to this team and to the people we help, until I take leave. I fully accept that responsibility, which is why I came on this case, but…”

  “Then I gave you the most menial tasks imaginable,” Harry finished.

  Angela nodded again. “I know you meant for it to be a break for me, and for me to be available to Vince and all of that, but it was just incredibly…frustrating to be doing grunt work on this case. I understand we all have to do it once in a while. It needs to be done, and I know you only meant well, and I don’t even want an apology. I guess I just need to let this out, because Vince doesn’t want to hear it…” Angela took a deep breath and sat back in her seat, crossing her arms self-soothingly over her waist. “Fitz, I think this has to be my last case for now. I still need to talk it over with Vince, but when I’m so worried about him that I resent my job that much, when I—when I get irritated with one of my best friends when all he’s trying to do is help—then maybe that means it’s time.”

  Harry’s soft, wrinkled eyes narrowed a little and his cheeks tightened in a short smile. “I understand. Even if you’re not looking for an apology, I am sorry. I thought I was making things a little easier for you, but I obviously didn’t think that one all the way through.”

  “Like I said, it’s fine. Your heart was definitely in the right place,” Angela insisted. “And maybe it was a good thing, actually. Maybe I would’ve kept putting off the decision if I felt like I still had more of a purpose at work. You guys did a great job on this case without a whole lot of help from me, and Hirsch seems to be a good fit so far. I guess it’s good that I was able to see that firsthand, so I know I can go.”

  “How’s Vince been doing the last few days at home?”

  “Okay, as far as I can tell, but his next round of chemo’s gonna be brutal. He went in for some routine scans today and we’ll get the results next week and see where things go from there. I hate to think about it, but there’s the chance that the cancer’s spread too far, and maybe his doctor will tell him it’s time to—” Angela couldn’t say the words, but she knew she didn’t need to. “But like I said, I can’t think about that. I’m not ready for that stage yet. Maybe he’ll actually feel better off of the chemo, but once we’re in that phase, once we take that step, then the countdown really stars, and Vince still isn’t ready for that, either. Vince told me that Charlie asked if he could play baseball again this summer, you know. They’re both so excited. Vince can’t admit defeat yet. Not when there’s so much going on and he feels like he can be a part of at least some of it.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t want to think about it,” Harry said.

  Angela batted away a few tears and shook her head. “I don’t, but I can’t help it. I do think about it. Every day. Every single day,” she whispered, hiding behind her quaking hands.

  “Need a shoulder?” Harry offered.

  “No, thanks,” Angela squeaked, shaking her head faster. “I just need to try and get some sleep before I completely lose it. I’m really not myself right now. Sorry if I sounded like I was blaming you for anything. I really do appreciate the fact that you’re looking out for me.”

  “I wasn’t completely considerate,” Harry admitted.

  Angela waved him off. “It’s no big deal.”

  Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Get some shut-eye.”

  —

  When she pulled up to the apartment building well after sunset, Angela was still groggy from the nap she was surprised she actually got. Her body tired and sore, she took the elevator upstairs and let herself into the apartment. The only light emanated from the television, which played a cartoon at a low volume. Before she could figure out why the lights were out but Charlie’s show was still on, Charlie ran over to her and hugged her waist.

  “We gotta be quiet,” Charlie whispered. “Daddy’s asleep on the couch.”

  Angela glanced at the clock on the oven. It was already well past Charlie’s bedtime. “Charlie, how come you’re not in bed?” she asked stepping out of her shoes.

  “Daddy didn’t say I had to go to bed,” he said, twisting a foot guiltily and tucking his hands behind his back.

  “Well, he doesn’t know to say that if he’s asleep when your bedtime rolls around. Why don’t you go get your PJs on for me?”

  “But I’m hungry,” Charlie whined.

  “What did you have for dinner?” Angela asked, now feeling rather hungry herself.

  “Daddy was asleep so I tried to make myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but the jelly jar was new and I couldn’t get the lid off, and there weren’t any knives clean for the peanut butter ’cause Daddy didn’t do the dishes. And I tried to pour myself a cup of milk but I spilled and I tried to wipe it up but it’s kinda sticky but I didn’t wanna tell Daddy ’cause I didn’t wanna wake him up and make him mad. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, honey. How long has your daddy been asleep?” Angela asked.

  “Since we got home from Auntie Jen’s. We had lunch there.”

  Angela, terrified but not wanting to show it, felt her blood chill. “I’ll tell you what. You go get your PJs on and I’ll get your daddy up, okay? Then we’ll have dinner.”

  “But I wanna eat now…”

  “Honey, this is important, I need you to listen—”

  “No!” Charlie crossed his arms.

  “Charlie, I love you, but—”

  “I wanna eat now!” he hollered.

  Angela’s face burned up. She’d never really had to discipline Charlie before. She’d known the time would come eventually, but this was the most inopportune moment she could think of. “Okay, that’s it
. I tried to explain things nicely, but you’re being naughty and you know it. You need to go sit in your room for a time out until I come get you.”

  “But—”

  “Now, Charlie.”

  He cried and stomped off down the hall. Angela prayed to God that Vince really was just napping, that he was tired for no specific reason, that he hadn’t lost control of his blood sugar or done anything equally dangerous.

  That he hadn’t died.

  “Vince,” she murmured, sitting on the coffee table and caressing his arm. He looked too comfortable to wake, but she couldn’t let him go on sleeping until she knew why he was asleep in the first place. “Vince…” Her pulse raced when he didn’t respond. “Vince, wake up, please.” She squeezed his shoulder; that did the trick. He took in a sharp breath and his eyes popped open.

  “Huh—” He cleared his froggy throat and fought to sit up. “Oh, hey. You’re back…”

  She covered her face in her hands and took a deep breath. “Oh, thank God you’re okay.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You—you wouldn’t wake up. Anyway, yeah, I just got in. It’s already past nine and Charlie’s still up.” She glanced furtively over the couch and down the hall.

  Vince immediately bent forward and let his face fall into his hands. “I must’ve dozed off hours ago. He hasn’t eaten unless he made something on his own.”

  “He’s okay, though. Were you just tired or did you not take your insulin the last time you ate or something?”

  “I honestly don’t remember,” Vince admitted throatily, pulling himself off the couch.

  “You sound like you might be coming down with something,” Angela couldn’t help but note.

  “I feel fine. Let me just fix him something to eat and I’ll go check my blood sugar.”

  Angela walked down the hall and knocked gently on Charlie’s door. “Charlie, your dad’s fixing you dinner,” she said, letting herself in and shutting the door behind her. He sat at the edge of his bed, folded up in an angry little knot. “Wow, I see we’re still not ready to behave. Do you know why I sent you to your room?”

  “’Cause you’re mean,” he spewed.

  “No, it’s because I was giving you instructions and you weren’t listening.”

  “You’re not my daddy.”

  Angela pulled up Charlie’s little desk chair and hoped it wouldn’t break underneath her. “No, I’m not your daddy, but I still love you. I’ve been in charge of you plenty of times before and you’re normally such a good listener. I understand you’re feeling a little out of sorts right now, and that’s understandable, but when any of us—me, your daddy, your auntie, your uncle—tells you to do something, you do it. You might not always understand why at the moment, but we’re all looking out for you. When we tell you to do something, it’s for your own good, okay?”

  “Why did you want me to put my PJs on before dinner?” Charlie asked, his hardened expression cracking a little.

  “Because I…needed to wake your daddy up from his nap, and just in case he was cranky, I thought it would be best if you weren’t the first face he saw. But when you didn’t listen, that really upset me.”

  Charlie’s lower lip doubled in size as he pushed it out. “Sorry.”

  Angela opened up her arms. “I forgive you. Come give me another hug. I missed you.”

  For the time being, Vince asked nothing about the conversation he overheard from the kitchen. Charlie scarfed his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, washed it down with a glass of milk, and went to bed after a couple of reassuring hugs.

  “I can’t believe I just…slept like that,” Vince said in disbelief. “My blood sugar was fine. I guess I was just exhausted.” Despite this fatigue, he was now on all fours in the kitchen with a sponge and a bucket of soapy water, scrubbing up the sticky milk left on the floor and refusing Angela’s offer to do it for him.

  “I thought you were feeling a little better,” Angela said, sitting at the table.

  “I was. I think I overdid it again, though. My back was killing me so I took a—you know, I could’ve sworn I took a methadone, but maybe I read the bottle wrong and took something else. I honestly couldn’t even tell you. So what went on with Charlie? I heard you talking to him in his room.”

  “I told him to go get his pajamas on while I woke you up and he wouldn’t listen. I just had no idea why you were asleep. I thought you might even be—”

  “I’m so sorry,” Vince said, setting the sponge in the bucket.

  “When I couldn’t get him to listen to me, he was yelling, and not even that woke you up…You really need to be more careful, okay? I wasn’t ready for that.”

  Vince struggled off the floor and pulled up a chair next to Angela’s. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whispered, hoping she wouldn’t cry when he drew her close. He couldn’t handle that right now. “I’ll be more careful, I promise. I’m so sorry I put you through that.”

  “I’m not mad, it’s okay. Just…give me a minute here.” Angela took three times as long to focus on the hands that slid calmingly up and down her back, to listen for the beat of Vince’s heart as she pressed her cheek to the crook of his neck. “I love you,” she finally said.

  “I love you, too.”

  “I’m sorry I got short with Charlie.”

  “Are you kidding? You handled it perfectly. The last half, at least. I don’t know what actually went down while I was still asleep, but I trust that you did just fine. Let’s move on to something a little less stressful. How was the case?”

  “It felt really wrong for me to be away this time. I’ve hated being away on every case since you left the team, but this time was just infinitely worse than the rest. I know how hard the last month has been for you, and that two-day case a couple weeks ago was partly admissible just because it was a chemo week and Jenna was driving you and Charlie around and helping you keep him entertained after school. But…being gone this time was very different.”

  “I missed you,” Vince said.

  “I missed you, too. But that’s not the only reason I hated being away. And I don’t even want to say the words because I know you won’t like them, but I think we’re both thinking the same thing. So maybe you should say it.”

  “He’s too young to babysit himself,” Vince said. “And I’m too out of sorts to remember what medication I did and didn’t take.” He couldn’t say the words either, so he just looked at Angela sorrowfully.

  “I think you just need a little help,” Angela said timidly.

  “A little help? I can’t take care of my son. Not reliably. I can’t be too proud to admit that. Not when his well-being is at stake. Even his life. What if he’d tried to cook something on the stove and burned himself or started a fire?”

  Her brow creasing fretfully, Angela nodded. “Then it’s time for me to step away from work now, I think. I really want to. Would you be okay with that?”

  Vince’s chest swelled with a deep breath and he shook his head. “I don’t like it. You resenting your job, wanting to take time away. But waiting a couple more weeks isn’t going to change how you feel, I suppose.”

  “It would, actually. I’d stop resenting my job and start hating it,” Angela put it plainly. “And if it helps, think of it as…us getting to spend more time together, too. We just said we miss each other when I’m gone, no?”

  “I know, I just hate being the cause of you not wanting to work,” Vince repeated.

  Angela pressed her cheek to Vince’s and rocked them to and fro. “You’re not the cause. We are. And so is Charlie. I’m glad to finally have a reason to do something other than work, really.”

  “I’m glad you’ve thought of all these smart things to say,” Vince said flippantly, “but that doesn’t really change anything.”

  “Just to be clear, you’re accepting this even if you don’t like it, right? Or are we actually arguing?”

  Vince chuckled and gathered Angela’s hair at the nape of her neck. “I�
��m accepting it even though I hate it. How’s that?”

  “Can you at least pretend to be excited that I’ll get to spend all day with you? I’ll even go to chemo with you.”

  “I thought you didn’t like it there.”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to drop you off and then just leave so I can hang out around here. Plus, I know it’s been harder for you ever since Frankie passed away. Unless there’s stuff that needs to be done around the apartment, there’s no reason I can’t stay and play checkers with you, or tell your nurses embarrassing stories,” she said, kissing his fingertips one by one.

  “What embarrassing stories?” Vince asked.

  “I’ll have to come up with some, or make them happen. Or we can really just play checkers.” She got down on the kitchen floor, and took the sponge before Vince could beat her to it. “Let’s not look at this as some sort of failure. Let’s look at it as a new phase of our relationship. We’ll be like old retirees. We’ll see each other so much that we’ll start to drive each other crazy.”

  “I thought we were already there,” Vince cracked, ducking when Angela flung a sponge-full of suds his way. He laughed and wiped the soap off his arms.

  “You’re going to be okay with this, right?” she asked, still worried despite his easy disposition.

  “I will be, yeah. It’s just not fun admitting I need help.”

  “I know it’s not,” Angela said gingerly. “I promise, I won’t be pushy. Well, no more pushy than I normally am. I’m just here to help when you need me and to spend more time with you. That’s it. If I get too controlling, tell me and I’ll stop.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  “Okay, you’re getting the whole bucket this time.”

  —

  “I still can’t believe it,” Marshall said on Monday after he helped Angela carry some boxes out to her car. Though her leave was unpaid, Angela insisted on taking some backlogged work home with her. She knew that Vince’s naps would probably leave her bored, and she did in fact like her job when it didn’t take her away from him.

  “Me neither,” Angela said, “but you know what? I’m so excited not to have to get up and leave him every day. It really feels…right.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Marshall said, throwing an arm around Angela and tousling her hair as they walked side-by-side back into the bullpen.

  “Agent Hawkins—err, Glasser,” an intern said, cutting off their path. “This just came in for you.”

  Angela frowned in puzzlement and took a manila envelope off his hands. “Thanks, I think.”

  “What’s that?” Marshall asked.

  Angela shrugged and sat on the edge of her unnaturally clean desk. Before she knew it, the entire team was gathered around her to wish her well, even though they would all probably see her sometime soon.

  “What’s in there?” Sophie asked.

  “If you would give me a second to open it, I’d tell you,” Angela said, chuckling at her friend. She opened up the envelope and peeked inside, then tipped it over onto her desk. A new security badge and set of credentials fell out. A short breath escaped her in some sort of quiet laugh as she picked them up and scrutinized them. “Talk about timing…”

  When I come back, I’ll be a new person in just about every possible way, she thought in a near panic. Her throat closed up.

  Sophie had already seen Angela’s new driver’s license, so the new name wasn’t as much a novelty to her as it was to Marshall and Harry. She peeked over Angela’s shoulder. “Hey, they let you take a new picture. Ugh, I hate you. I’ve been asking for a new picture for years. I had a giant zit on my chin the day I got mine taken.”

  Angela rolled her eyes and looked around her with a smile that faded slowly. “I am gonna miss this place. And you guys, of course.”

  Nobody said they hoped she would be back soon.

  “Get outta here, kid,” Harry said, patting her on the shoulder. She couldn’t leave without hugs, however. Even Agent Hirsch wished her well.

  “Tell Vince we said hi, and I’ll bring him more cookies this week. I promise. I just need to go to a health food store,” Sophie said.

  Angela nodded. “Thank you. All of you. Okay, I’m getting misty-eyed. And hungry. I should really get going. See you later.” She tucked in her lips and waited for her friends to walk away, but they didn’t budge until she turned and strode out the door.