CHAPTER 17
Sam
Cory hasn’t said a word since shaking hands with the police officers and helping my dad into the back seat of his car. I like silence. I’ve always been a big fan of silence. But it was the way he helped my father fasten his seat belt, then place his hand over my dad’s hand and give it a squeeze before shutting the door…the kindness he displayed. Those things have filled my head with a dozen questions that internally scream with the need to be released.
Why are you so nice?
Why did you help me?
Why are you caring for a man you don’t even know?
Why aren’t you in France?
Why are you here?
Instead, I don’t say a thing. Not until we round the last street corner, slow to a crawl, and pull into the parking lot at the nursing home.
“You can just drop us off at the front door if you want to,” I say, unfastening my seat belt and reaching for my bag. I practically shove the door open before we’ve stopped, but the faster I get my father inside, the faster I can quiet my mind and be done with this whole afternoon. First the funeral, then the restaurant, then the photographers, and now the cemetery. It might be funny if I didn’t feel so helpless and sad. There’s barely any sunlight left, just a half-moon resting low in the sky. Another half hour and night will be fully on us. By then, I want the blankets of my bed to be fully on me. Then, and only then, will I allow the tears collected in the storm drains behind my eyes to shed the water they’ve spent all afternoon collecting.
I open the back car door and reach for my father’s hand.
“How will you get back to your car? Here, let me help you get him inside.” Cory hops out of his seat to take my dad by the elbow, using extra care to help him to the sidewalk.
“I’ll ask Phyllis to take me after she gets off work.”
“Oh sweet saints in heaven, you found him!” As though she had been summoned, Phyllis rushes out with a wheelchair, one hand gripping the handle and the other pressed against her heart. “Mr. Dalton, you gave us quite a scare. You just can’t go running off like that!” She makes a clucking sound with her tongue as she guides my father into a sitting position.
Of course he doesn’t respond to her. No one expects him to. He stares at his hands, marveling at the way they turn over and under and back again, as if he doesn’t spend a good part of everyday mimicking the motion. I stare at him for a moment, thinking just once. Just once I wish there was a way to climb inside his head to see how the wheels of his brain were spinning. To see if they were spinning at all. Maybe then I could re-route them; oil them or tighten a screw, anything to make them head the direction it needs to take to get back to me. With all the advances in medicine, you would think someone could invent a way to keep a person’s mind in semi-functioning shape. But no, my father’s has deteriorated at the same time women are getting Botox injections to keep frown lines at bay. Not that I’m opposed to Botox. Give me a decade and I might fill my schedule with regular appointments. But still.
Thank God for medical brilliance.
“Whatever possessed him to go the cemetery?” Phyllis asks me on our way into the building. “It don’t make sense for him to travel so far, and by bus of all things! It’s a good thing you were so close by. I’d hate to think of this poor man having to ride in a police car all that way back here like a common criminal. Mr. Dalton doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”
A blanket slips from my dad’s shoulder, and I pull it up around him, fighting a smile at the image of my father being whisked away in a police car as though his escape had been a national emergency. But Phyllis was right about one thing—it had been a relief to be so close by. I still have no idea what possessed Cory to—
Cory. In the rush to get my father inside, I forgot all about him. From our spot in the lobby, I turn to head back outside and catch a glimpse of his SUV pulling away from curb. I don’t know what to think, so I watch it disappear for a moment, red taillights fading from view as I process what it means. A sense of loss settles around me, but it isn’t from sadness as much as resignation. Things end. They end and there’s never a good way to stop it from happening. More and more lately, the end of the road is the one I’m stuck on. Like everything else, my time with Cory just concluded without warning or the chance to say goodbye.
I stare at nothingness for a moment longer and breathe through something that feels a little like pain. That’s the thing about pain, it doesn’t need a reason to make an appearance and often it makes no sense. But it’s there, knotting my heart in a futile wish that things had been different. Under any other circumstance, Cory and I might have been friends. As it stands, our commonality just came to a halt and receded in fading taillights.
With one last look, I sigh and head down the hallway toward my dad’s room.
By the time I push the door open, Phyllis is settling him in bed.
“Here, let me help you with that,” I say, reaching for my father and lifting him under the arms the way she taught me months ago. The smell of antiseptic and bleach is especially strong tonight, as though someone left a bottle open or just finished dousing the room to disguise the stench of urine. It doesn’t quite work.
“Dad? Are you comfortable?” He doesn’t answer me, but I fluff his pillows anyway, taking care to prop one on each side of his head. The likelihood of him falling over and hitting one of the side rails is slim, but the extra cushion makes me feel a little better about his living conditions. When I adjust a pillow, he slaps at my hand, then rattles off a few curse words aimed directly at me. When his hand shoots up again, I duck and nearly avoid a blow to the face. This is normal, his action and my reaction. The tears I used to cry were spent long ago. Now I see it for what it is; a normal response made by someone with a very abnormal disease.
“Stop hitting at your daughter, Mr. Dalton.” His violence doesn’t faze Phyllis either, because it never inflicts pain. Not physical, at least. She winks over at me, and for the first time today I smile. It feels good. It also feels foreign.
“Thank you for all you’re doing for him,” I say to her. Soon my father is snoring. I step back and look down at him, a fresh wave of sadness descending like a black quilt on my already heavy shoulders. The burden of responsibility has made itself so comfortable that it now feels like an old friend, the kind of friend that overstayed its welcome long ago but is currently unpacking a suitcase and filling dresser drawers with next season’s outfits. “It means a lot to me.”
“Oh child, it’s my pleasure.” She rolls her neck, working out a stiff muscle. “Even if they quit paying me to be here, I suspect I’d stop by every day to see your daddy anyway. He’s a special man, and you’re a special girl. Everything will get better, you know. Just give it time, you’ll see. Me and the man upstairs?” She points up to the ceiling. “We made a deal. He’s going to work everything out for you, and I’m going to stick around and watch it happen.”
I can’t help a small smile. I’m not so sure about the man upstairs, but it means a lot to me that she has faith enough for both of us.
“Thank you Phyllis. Truly.” I reach for my dad’s water glass and fill it for him. Sometimes he needs a drink late at night. He can’t think for himself, but he hasn’t yet lost the ability to be somewhat self-sufficient. He’ll reach for the glass in the middle of the night and won’t know what to do if nothing is available; I don’t want him disturbing a nurse for something I can help with now.
“You just wait and see. He has a plan you for even in all your suffering. I’m sure of it.” She collects a few stray linens from the recliner and shoves them into a bag, then readjusts my father’s bed one last time before giving him a pat on the head and heading for the door.
“Phyllis?” I say just before she walks out. She stops and half-turns to face me. “Will you call me if he needs anything? I think I’m going to head home now instead of waiting until visiting hours are over. I’ll be back tomorrow.” And I will. I’ll always come back tomorrow, even when it feels like too much to handle.
“Oh take the day off, child. If anything unusual happens, I’ll let you know.” She points to me, giving a knowing look. “Spend a little time doing something just for you. I’ll take care of your dad.”
The offer is tempting, more than I want to admit. “We’ll see.” It’s all I can say, all I can commit to.
“I’ll settle for that. See you soon, Sam.” And with that she walks out, leaving me alone in the quiet room. For a long moment I focus on my dad, on the peaceful way he sleeps. He is sick, yes. But he doesn’t know it. The rest of the world might feel pity if they could see him now, but he doesn’t suffer from it. It helps a little to know that I might be alone in this world, but he is blissfully unaware.
With one last look, I close the door behind me and dig my phone of out the bottom of my purse, then search for Hannah’s number. She answers on the first ring.
“Did you find him?” she asks. “Is he alright?” My stomach drops at the question. I forgot that in my initial panic, I had called her.
“He’s fine. Back in bed like nothing ever happened. But hey, can you come pick me up at the—”
I stop talking the moment I enter the lobby. Because there, in a cracked vinyl chair pushed up against the wall, sits Cory. His head is tilted back as though he’s resting, but his eyes are open and staring at the ceiling. He sits up straight when he sees me. All I can do is stare back; I can’t believe he’s been waiting here the whole time. It’s weird seeing a rock star waiting inside a nursing home, especially when that rock star is waiting for you.
“Sam, are you there?” There’s a voice talking to me on the other end of the line. It takes work to focus on Hannah’s voice through the clouds of thought crowding my brain, but I manage. “Sam?”
“I’m here.” I tear my eyes away from Cory and study my shoes. “Never mind, though. I’m sorry I called so late.”
“It’s eight-thirty,” she deadpans. “I won’t turn into a pumpkin for almost four more hours. Did you need something?”
I chance a look at Cory again just as he stands up and pulls a key ring out of his pocket. I feel the way you feel after a really good kiss, hazy and disoriented and slightly off balance. I saw him drive away, but he came back for me. I have no idea why.
“No, I think I’m okay now. I’ll call you in the morning.” Hannah is still talking when I press the phone off and slip it inside my purse. By the time I look up, Cory stands in front of me. I try not to get nervous at the sight of him, but my heart doesn’t get the message; it flaps like a swarm of newly hatched butterflies from one side of my chest to the other. Not to mention I’m suddenly all fidgety and can’t stand still.
“That didn’t take long. Are you ready to go?”
I’m about to say that I can walk when he grins down at me and my mind goes soft. It’s a long walk anyway and probably wouldn’t be good for my health. Not to mention safety. I fall in step beside him. “I’m ready.” And like an obedient puppy, I follow him out into the chilly night air. “I thought you left for vacation. If I had known you were just sitting there for so long—”
“It wasn’t that long. Vacation can wait, and it wasn’t a big deal. There’s no reason for me to rush back to the hotel anyway. The only thing waiting for me there is HBO and a bottle of wine.”
“Not a bad combination. Keep talking like that and I might get jealous.”
He laughs. It’s the first time I hear it, and it isn’t unpleasant.
“You’re welcome to join me if you want to. I can’t promise I’ll be good company, but the movie might not be half bad.”
I feel myself blush and give thanks for the darkness. I shouldn’t feel anything but mortification at his offer. The thought of me hanging out in a hotel room with Cory Minor… If the kids from high school could see me now, they’d all have a good laugh. Plus I’m not that kind of girl.
“Just take me to my car, Cory. Just take me to my car.”
Like a gentleman, he opens the passenger door and waits for me to climb inside.
* * *
Within minutes we pull in behind my silver Honda Civic. Next to Cory’s black Land Rover that looks like it just had a wash and wax, it looks perfectly dwarfed and ugly despite its newer make. The sight grates on my nerves, a final blow to topple over this bad day.
“It figures.” The words are out before I realize I’ve actually spoken them.
“What figures?”
I gesture in front of us. “My car compared to yours. It figures yours is bigger, newer, and better.” I make a disgusted sound for effect. He’s been too nice to me all day. It’s time to put a stop to it.
Except he laughs instead of playing along. “You rode in it earlier, remember? It’s not like it’s a surprise. And you do know that it’s a rental, right?”
I shrug. “I know I did, but I didn’t see them side by side until now. Mine looks ridiculous. And I suppose in real life you drive a Buick?”
“They quit making those years ago.” His comeback is weak, and I stare pointedly while he shifts in place. “In real life I drive a Lamborghini.”
I snort. “Lovely. That makes me feel even worse.”
“Just because I drive it doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Oh what, are you telling me you’re a pickup kind of guy?” I’m not sure why I feel the need to give him a hard time. Normally I like my car. But right now it looks like a Happy Meal Toy, and I’m not a big fan of cheap hamburgers.
“No, I’m telling you I’m a Honda Civic kind of guy.”
Well then. I swallow at the innuendo and find myself disappointed that it’s time to leave. My erratic pulse and ricocheting emotions are exhausting, from sad at the funeral to embarrassed at the restaurant to anxious with my father. And now this. I clear my throat and pray my voice works. “Thank you for the ride, and for waiting for me at the nursing home. You didn’t have to do that.” He opens his mouth to respond, but I keep talking. “I still can’t figure out how you knew to go to the cemetery, but I’m glad you did.”
“You’re welcome. I’m just glad we found him.” He runs his hands along the steering wheel, seeming almost nervous. Like he has something to ask but no idea where to start. It’s makes me strangely happy to know I’m not the only one struggling with nerves, but I don’t know him well enough to prompt him. I open the car door and take a reluctant step out.
“Sam, don’t leave yet.” I exhale at the words I wanted to hear. But now that he’s said them, I’m not sure what to do. “About Kassie and Megan.”
“Cory, don’t.” I close my eyes and scoot back into my seat, not ready for this conversation. This day has been crap and I have a feeling it’s about to get worse.
“Please just let me say this one thing.”
It’s the pleading in his voice that makes me look at him. “I’m tired, and you don’t need to—”
“Let me finish before I lose my nerve.” He inhales a slow breath, one that visibly shudders through his chest. “Being at the funeral today, seeing Megan’s parents, even seeing you with your dad. It made me think of how everything we do affects others, even if we don’t know it.” He rubs the back of his neck and stares out the windshield a long moment. “I know I wasn’t driving the bus that night, but I still played a role in the accident. It was my bus. My driver that I employ. I just want you to know how sorry I am. I feel terrible that I’ve caused everyone so much pain. Especially you. I don’t know why this happened, why it had to involve me, or why everything seems to involve me.” He sighs. “I’m going to do my best to make things right, even though I’m not sure what that means right now. And I want you to know that I don’t care if you sue me, Sam. I really don’t. I never should have asked that question in the first place, and next time I see my manager…”
He trails off, and I study him for a moment. He’s angry. At himself. At the higher-ups surrounding him. But more than those things, I recognize his grief because I’ve lived it for years; there’s more to it than just my sister and this accident. It isn’t my problem to solve, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care. Without thinking, I reach out and place my fingertips on his. When he glances down at our hands, I pull mine away and tuck it under my leg. Maybe I shouldn’t have touched him. Maybe it was too personal. I’m not sure of anything anymore, except of the words I need to say.
“That’s just it, Cory. You can’t fix it. All you can do is pick up the pieces and move on. It’s what I’m trying to do. What you need to try to do. What I want you to do. Don’t vilify yourself forever. If you can’t do that for your sake, then do it for mine. And I’m not going to sue you.”
He runs a hand over his mouth and studies me. “Okay. But what if I can’t? Move on, I mean. It hasn’t been that long.” His voice catches. There’s nothing I can do to stop the emotion he’s feeling. That’s the thing about trying to cope; people are forced to do it on their own time, in their own way. No amount of encouraging words or platitudes offered to make you feel better will rush the process along. I know this. I’ve known this for way too many years.
A tear runs down my cheek. “You will eventually. Trust me, I know.”
For a long moment all we do is breathe. And then he rolls his eyes. “Good lord,” he says.
I blink at the change in his tone, my mouth falling open a bit. “What?”
“You’re crying again. I thought you said you were sick of crying.”
This time I don’t care if it’s too personal, I reach over and smack him on the hand. “I am sick of crying, and I’m tired of you making me do it over and over again. What is it with you? Do you enjoy seeing women in pain?”
“Depends on the circumstances.” There’s a wicked glint in his eyes, and I’m blushing all over again. “But if you must know, sometimes a little pain with women isn’t such a bad thing depending on what you’re—”
I hold up a hand and bite back a laugh. “I’m sorry I asked. Please don’t elaborate.” My face is on fire and I have a feeling the darkness isn’t hiding it. I reach around for the door handle and step out of the car, feeling lighter than I have in a while. Laughing is nice, something I haven’t done in way too long.
“Hey, Sam?” He leans down for a better look. “Are you working tomorrow?”
My laughter dies. The way my heart pushes into my throat kind of cuts off the sound. “Yes, from ten to three, I think.” I shrug, trying to appear aloof. Maybe he’ll stop by. Maybe he’ll ask me to take the day off. Maybe I should get a grip. This is Cory Minor and I’m ordinary. Plus he’s leaving tomorrow and I have no plans to get attached.
“Mind if I come by before I leave town? My flight doesn’t leave until five o’clock.”
Stop by. It works for me. Still, I search my mind, flipping through responses. My eyes are fixed on the dimple just under his chin. It’s easier than looking at his eyes. One look at them, and my nervousness would double.
“Fine by me, but don’t be surprised if we put you to work. The place has been a mess lately, and the papers, they’re everywhere.” I close the door and lean into the window. “Come in comfortable clothes, something you don’t mind getting dirty. Nothing…” I raise an eyebrow and let my gaze sweep his figure. “…like that.”
He laughs. “I get the message. I’m a little offended, but I get it.” He shifts into reverse and I step back. “I’ll be there before noon. See you in the morning.”
I watch him go for a minute before I climb into my own car. Once behind the wheel, I close my eyes and let my thoughts swirl and tangle over the events of today. I think of the funeral…of Cory standing in the back of the church. I think of the restaurant…of Cory sipping his wine. I think of my father…of Cory helping him into the back seat of the car. I think of the nursing home…of Cory waiting on me in that chair.
Why is Cory infiltrating all my thoughts?
And why is he always waiting on me lately?
Don’t get attached.
I open my eyes and sit up straight, telling myself to get a grip. This is wrong. Completely inappropriate. This is Cory Minor I’m thinking about, someone I wouldn’t even know if it wasn’t for the awful circumstances that surrounded our meeting. I’m being selfish. Unfair to Kassie’s memory. A traitor to the posters hanging all over her bedroom wall. My loyalty is to my sister, not to some overblown pop star who leaves town tomorrow.
But that’s the thing about people. Once something gets inside their minds, they aren’t easily distracted. Once something wiggles its way into their hearts, the heart swells to make room for more. Because humans seek connection above everything else, and they will rationalize their way into finding it, usually no matter what it takes.
By the time I pull into my parking space at home, I’m already looking forward to tomorrow. I feel guilty about it, but the anticipation is there all the same.