She typed: I’m well. She wasn’t well. She was heartbroken. Just seeing his words made the hurt of not having him come back. Who would have thought that at the young age of eighteen, she’d have already had everything she needed in life? Pete had loved her and he was making plans to move forward with her then. They could have gone to college together, and who knows where they’d be right now—maybe as perfect as Pop and Nana. But she’d blown it. She’d lost her chance because she couldn’t see what was right in front of her until it was too late. He’d moved on with his life, and there was nothing she could do about it. She felt her bottom lip start to tremble, and she closed her eyes before the tears could start.
She missed him. If only she could see that grin playing at the corners of his mouth, the friendliness in his face, the warmth behind his eyes. She missed the way his head turned to the side just slightly when she was talking, how he leaned forward a tiny bit in interest. She missed the sight of him with his hands in his pockets whenever he was standing. She missed the feel of his hand in hers. Those things weren’t hers to have anymore. They weren’t ever meant for her. Would he look at someone else with doting eyes and that smile of his? Her stomach burned with the thought.
She typed back: How do you think Pop feels about the sale?
She looked up from her phone. Her apartment seemed more sparse than it had in the past few days. And quiet. No one stopped by to say hello, she didn’t know her neighbors and, while coming and going, she’d only seen a handful of people more than once.
As she waited for Pete’s response, she remembered the way it felt lying on his chest that morning, his arms around her, his hand on her hip, the feel of his steady breathing. She could lie like that indefinitely. She’d been so quick to get up, to move things along, that she’d missed out on more of that feeling. What if the best moments of life were spent being still? As she sat in her apartment, trepidation settled inside her because she knew the answer already. Being in New York wasn’t as important as being with people she loved.
Just like Nana’s story about the rug: All the earnings and accolades were just things; things don’t make us happy. People do. Now Pete didn’t want to be with her, and she was miserable in New York because she couldn’t be with him. A wave of fear swept over her, prickling her skin from the inside out because she realized in that moment that she didn’t have a plan for this, she didn’t know how to fix it. And what worried her most was that she didn’t know if it could ever be fixed.
Her phone pinged. Her heart fell as she read Pete’s answer: Honestly, lately, he doesn’t even remember that house. He’s losing it, Libby. A few days here and there, he didn’t remember my name. The good news—if you can call it that—is that he hasn’t wanted to take walks lately. He spends most of his time in his room.
She stared at his words until the screen on her phone went black. She sat in silence, tears welling up in her eyes and then spilling over. She felt so far away. She wanted to talk to Pop—about anything—so she could have those last few moments of the real him before the disease stole him from her. She knew there probably wasn’t much time left, and she felt guilty for not being there. A runaway tear chased another down her cheek, and she wiped them with the back of her hand.
If it weren’t for Trish’s wedding, she’d be on a plane immediately. She wanted every minute with Pop, so she wouldn’t miss a single moment when he was lucid.
I want to be with him, she typed. The tears were coming faster, one after another, with no end in sight. Her heart ached for Pop.
The phone pinged again. The minute he’s himself again, I’ll be sure to tell him that you miss him. Promise.
She needed Pete’s hug. She needed him to hold her hand. No one else could make the hurt any better. But she couldn’t have any of it. The reality of that was like a boulder on her chest. The sound of engines outside began to make her ears ring as she sat, alone, trying to figure out how to get herself together. She had to get ready for work, and she hadn’t been there long enough to take a day off.
Another ping. She opened the screen and read: Libby, I know you want to be here and you can’t. I’ll give him enough love for the both of us. I’m right at the other end of your phone if you want to check in on him. Go get ready for work. You’re going to be late.
The last bit made her smile, her unremitting tears still falling. How did he know she wasn’t getting ready? With a deep breath, she got up and walked into the bathroom for a shower.