Rolling down the window, he sighed. He wouldn’t look at me. “I’m working on it,” he said. “Will your parents give you a ride back to your place?”
“If I said no, would you stay?”
He didn’t pause. “No,” he said, starting the truck up. “But I would make sure a cab was here to drive you home safely.”
Infuriating.
“Then yeah, they’ll drive me home.”
“Good,” he said, nodding once. “I’ll call you later. After I get my head back on straight.”
I laughed some of my frustration out. “If I had to wait for you to get your head on straight, I’d be waiting forever.”
His face lined as his eyes closed. “I think I’m starting to see that too, Luce.”
Then, without the shortest look my way, he eased out of the parking space, pausing and waiting for me to move.
Relenting, I took a few steps back.
“Bye,” he whispered, heading down the road, the truck’s wheels drawing lines in the snow. My eyes filled with tears, but I wouldn’t let them fall because letting them fall was like admitting there was something worth crying over. Something worth crying over wasn’t a place I wanted to visit when it came to Jude and me. So I didn’t cry. I forced the tears to disappear. I focused on the blood dotted snow at my feet, shoving away the thoughts that snuck up on me, whispering it was a metaphor for what was to come.
I did go back into the restaurant, ignoring the looks of curiosity and sneers of disapproval; I even managed to make small talk with my parents and eat a bite of everything that was served. I went through the motions, put on the It’s all good face, but it wasn’t. Every second that ticked by drilled another hole in my heart. I wanted to be with him, to comfort whatever needed comforting, to be assured we were going to be all right. That we’d weather this storm.
After lunch, I showed my parents around New York. We saw the sights, exchanged some more small talk, and the ache in my heart went deeper.
“Honey, are you sure you don’t want to stay with us at the hotel tonight?” Mom asked, turning in her seat as Dad drove through Juilliard’s campus. “We’ve got an early flight tomorrow, but you could sleep in, order room service, and we could arrange to have a cab drive you back.”
“Thanks, but I’ve got a load of homework to get cracking on and I need to rehearse for the winter recital,” I said, looking out the window, trying to drone out “Blackbird” playing through the speakers. Even in a rental, dad had to have the Beatles blaring.
“You’ve got homework over Thanksgiving break?” Dad piped up, glancing in the rearview mirror.
“Tell me about it,” I said, sounding as numb as I felt. “They’re slave drivers here.”
Dad made a clucking sound with his tongue, shaking his head. “This it, Lucy in the sky?” Dad asked, slowing in front of the dark dorm and peering up at it.
“Home sweet home,” I said, going for the handle of the full-sized rental they’d splurged on. In fact, they’d splurged on the whole trip, the whole day. And a robot would have been just as good of company.
Stepping out of the car, I glanced over at the Mazda. The snow had died off, but a good couple of inches covered it.
“Are you going to be all right, Lucy?” Mom asked, stepping out and glancing over the car at me.
“She’s going to be great,” Dad answered for me, stepping out of the car and giving me a private smile.
I nodded because that’s all the lie I was capable of right now.
“Thanks for coming all this way,” I said, giving my dad a hug. “And sorry things went so wonky.”
“Life is wonky, my Lucy in the sky,” he said, patting my cheek. “It’s to be expected.”
For someone who had been declared mentally unstable over five years ago, my father was a very wise man.
Mom came around the car and wrapped me into her arms. “Everything will be fine, sweetheart,” she said into my ear. “Men just need time to sort these things out. They don’t have the need to talk the issue into a pulp like we do.”
And for someone who’d been an ice queen for the past five years, she could be surprisingly warm. “Thanks, Mom,” I replied. “That sounds like good advice.”
“I’m the expert,” she said, smiling in front of me. “I’ve lived it for the past five years,” she mouthed, glancing back at Dad.
“Have a safe flight,” I said, giving them each a quick peck on the cheek before heading up the walkway. “See you at Christmas.”
“Love you, sweetheart,” Mom said as they watched me head towards my dorm.