The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) Page 8

  "Stop." I shoved the letters back in. "That's illegal, isn't it?"

  "Not hurting anyone. I saw it. Wasn't her name. Some guy."

  "Boyfriend?"

  "Maybe."

  I knocked again, less nervous now that I figured no one was home. Or we had the wrong house altogether.

  But the handle jiggled, then turned.

  I held my stomach to suppress that feeling again. The worms.

  My mouth dried up as the door opened in slow motion. Donovan held my hand. I just kinda stood there.

  A man stuck his head out, looked around us, then opened the door a little more. "Can I help you?"

  "I'm here to see Julia. Does she live here?"

  The man looked around us again and shook his head. The door started to close, but Donovan put his foot out to stop it.

  "Do you know her? Or where she might live?" I asked.

  "Why?" He hid most of himself behind the door. "Who's asking?"

  I shrugged and looked myself up and down. "Me?"

  "She don't live here no more." I noticed bruises on his arms. "California last I heard."

  Donovan and I looked at each other. The guy finally closed the door on us. We stayed there. Looking at each other. Processing. Wondering.

  "California?" I finally said.

  "Let's do it," he said.

  I smiled. "That's a huge trip."

  "And you're gonna say yes."

  "You know me."

  "Let's enjoy Boston one more night and find a plane ticket tomorrow."

  "Want to drive?"

  "Don't wanna waste more money than we need to, but that would be a lot of fun."

  "Come on. Let's drive."

  "Let's get off this guy's steps first and figure it out later."

  Plane it was. Mainly because Donovan couldn't get off work anymore than three more days. We'd fly out and back and he could keep his job.

  He went to the bathroom while I pulled out my iPad in the airport and looked up her address. A wee tad freaky that you can find out so much about a person online. It showed everything from her shopping preferences to criminal records and phone numbers.

  Donovan sat beside me and crunched on a granola bar.

  "Hey." I pointed to the screen. "I found all this information on her. Paid for this report thingy and I have an email address." He handed me his half-eaten granola bar. "Should I just email?"

  "Up to you."

  "I know. But what do you think?"

  "Depends how you want your first meeting to go."

  "I could try emailing and we can still go out there. See if she responds first."

  "Go for it."

  I pulled out my Bluetooth keyboard and typed, "Hello." Then I stared at that intimating cursor as it blinked and blinked and blinked. Donovan meandered off again in search of more food and somehow I ended up looking at Alistair again.

  It was nice to see his face. A picture to go with the fading memory. I could almost picture his smile as he asked to kiss me. What an odd day.

  "Jane is in love," Donovan teased as he handed me a water bottle and a slice of pizza. "If there's anyone you should email, it's lover boy."

  "Stop calling him lover boy." I closed the iPad and smelled the pizza. "Mmm..."

  "Why don't you just email him?"

  "Can you imagine me dating someone? Like for real dating?" I took another bite of pizza and laughed as the cheese attached to my chin.

  Donovan picked it up and pulled it toward his mouth.

  "Ew!" I pulled it back and put it on my plate. "Gross!"

  "Remember when I used to eat the gum you chewed? I think it was seventh grade."

  "I remember." I wiped my face. "Sick."

  He finished his second slice of pizza before I finished my first. When I finally took the last bite he threw our plates away and we made our way to the gates. They were now calling letters and numbers.

  Donovan leaned into my shoulder. "️Email him."

  I leaned back into his shoulder. "I can't."

  "You can." They called us and we walked forward, handed them our tickets, and headed down the terminal. "Do you want to?"

  I shrugged.

  "You pretend like you don't want a relationship, but I know you do."

  "No." I tapped the side of the terminal three times before getting into the plane. Weird habit for good luck. Probably didn't do a thing, but I hated flying. Being superstitious was worth it in this case.

  "Yes," he said. "I know you better than you know yourself."

  "Apparently not." We shoved our bags above our heads and sat down. He took the window seat, knowing I didn't want anything to do with it. "I really don't. I'm not opposed to it, but at the same time I'm not ready for it."

  "Will you ever be ready?"

  "I think so." I set my iPad on my lap and looked at him. "Come on. I'm only eighteen! I have plenty of time."

  He tapped on the window. "Unless you die on this plane as we're flying over Chicago."

  "Thanks."

  "Plummeting thousands of feet as the oxygen mask flings toward your face. No escape. Only the end. Waiting."

  "Thanks for the mental image I've been trying to avoid for the last hour."

  He folded his hands over his lap, leaned back, and closed his eyes. "That's what I'm here for, sweetheart."

  We landed in LA. Thank the stars above. If they can be thanked, of course. I don't need to tell you that the first thing Donovan insisted we do was immediately find food. Good food. Not airport food.

  We picked up our rental car after navigating the airport and my phone beeped. I ignored it, but it kept beeping and buzzing in my bag.

  "You should check that," he said as we drove off to find food.

  I pulled the phone out. A bunch of calls from Eddie.

  "It's Eddie," I said. "He called. A lot."

  "Must be important. Eddie only texts. I didn't even know his phone worked like a normal phone."

  I called back. "Hey," I said. "Everything okay?"

  "No." I could barely hear him. "Mahidinahizpitooh."

  "What? You're mumbling, Ed. I can't hear you."

  "Oh, sorry." Finally could hear him. "Had my finger over the thing."

  "Is something wrong?"

  "Where are you?"

  "I'm out with Donovan."

  "No one could get in touch with you. Dad's in the hospital."

  "For what?"

  "We aren't sure yet." Something jumbled and then he spoke clear again, "Are you coming?"

  "Eddie, what happened?"

  Donovan was already heading back to the airport. Guess he noticed the tone of my voice.

  "I don't know. Dad's acting weird. They're doing tests now. Mom is freeeeeaking out. You need to get here now."

  "I'll get there as soon as I can. Might be a while. We kinda took a vacation."

  "Yeah, well while you're out there looking for a mother who left you your real mother needs you."

  "Hark! He speaks!"

  "Hanging up now."

  "Sorry. I'll be there when I can."

  I hung up and looked at Donovan. "Leave it to Eddie to spend most of his life mute and then slam you with random bursts of intensity."

  "What happened?"

  "Dad. They don't know. Mom's having a nervous breakdown and Eddie is reprimanding me for looking for this mom while my real mom is in need of someone."

  "Not like you could've known."

  "Yeah. I don't think he likes that I'm looking into this. He doesn't express himself, so who knows, but I just feel like everyone thinks I'm betraying them."

  "You're not."

  I nodded. "Hope Dad's okay."

  Donovan squeezed my hand and held it until he parked.

  I was thankful for that hand.

  By the time we got on a plane and back to Philly it had been twenty-two hours since Eddie first called. That's a lot of time when you're dad is in the hospital for something unknown. It's also a lot of time when you have too much to think about. Like fami
ly, love, friends, mothers, roommates. Too much.

  Donovan took me to the hospital and given his place in our family, he came inside with me too.

  I inhaled as we walked in. Donovan gave me a weird look.

  "What?" I sniffed again. "I love the smell of hospitals."

  "Yeah." He smirked. "You and one percent of the population."

  "It's clean and plasticy. Like Office Max without the paper smell."

  "Mmmhmm."

  We found our way to Dad's ICU room and Mom hugged both of us as soon as she saw us. Her tears totally covered my shoulder, but I didn't mind. She was always the strong one unless something happened to Dad. Can't tell you how many times I heard her half-jokingly but mostly seriously say to him, "Don't die. Don't ever die."

  She finally let go of us, looked back to Dad, wiped her face, then stared at the floor.

  "Dad's sleeping?" I said. "So, any news?"

  She chewed the inside of her cheek and shook her head.

  "Not sleeping," Eddie said from across the room, waking Granny in the process. "He's in a coma."

  "Oh, Jane." Granny wobbled to her feet and walked toward me. I met her ninety-percent of the way. "So glad you made it, honey. It's going to be okay. Everything will be fine."

  "Everything's not fine," Eddie said, rubbing his eyebrows. "It's not, Granny."

  "Edward Darcy Austen!" Mom's tears dried right up as her face reddened.

  "It's true." He hadn't looked up from his phone since I walked in.

  "Eddie, why do you speak when you shouldn't and refuse to when you should?" I hugged Granny.

  "Why do you go off and—"

  "Enough you two," Mom said, now holding Dad's hand. "Your father could very well be dying. Maybe you two can find it within yourselves to stop arguing."

  "Dying?" I looked from Mom to Granny, then noticed Donovan's bummed out face across the room. "Why is Dad dying?"

  "He's not dying," Granny said.

  Mom leaned into the hospital bed and sobbed into his hand.

  "What's going on?" I pleaded. "What happened?"

  "He was cleaning out the shed," Granny said. "He thought a bird flew at him, but he got a flu that wouldn't quite go away for the last week or so. When he came here they ran some tests and think he was bit by a bat and now has rabies."

  "Rabies? There's a cure for that. People don't die from rabies."

  Mom let out a loud cry again.

  "Do they?" I whispered.

  Donovan put his hand on Mom's shoulder and Granny put hers on mine. "He's in a medically induced coma. They are doing everything they can."

  "But..." I couldn't lose it. Not in front of Mom. Not now. "He'll be okay." My voice shook. I steadied myself and tried again, "He's going to be okay. He will. There was an Office episode about this." Images of Michael Scott running down the sidewalk covered in sweat flashed through my mind. "Everyone was fine."

  "This is real life," Eddie chimed in again.

  "Put your phone away." I flicked his head.

  He swatted my hand.

  "Stop acting like you're toddlers," Mom said. "As you can see, your father is in a coma and doctors have warned me that this could be fatal." She sniffed. "Do you understand?"

  I inched closer to Granny and whispered, "Has she left his side at all?"

  "Of course not."

  "Mom," I said. "Do you want to go get something to eat while I spend some time with Dad?"

  "No." She ran her fingers along his jaw. "I'm not leaving his side."

  "Mom, you—"

  "I'm not leaving, Jane. I can't leave his side. You never know. You just never know...."

  Donovan waved at me to let it go. I pulled a chair beside the hospital bed and sat beside him, mentally prepared for an Internet search extravaganza all about rabies. That would be later.

  I kept staring at Mom. The pain on her face reminded me of a scene from Batman Begins, and I figured I probably shouldn't be thinking about Batman, so I focused on Dad's closed eyes. But Mom distracted me back to her face with every sniffle.

  I don't know.

  That level of love kind of freaked me out. I couldn't imagine loving a person like that. Where losing them is the most excruciating thing imaginable. I didn't like that. I didn't want another life to have that kind of power over me.

  Donovan sat down beside me and held Dad's hand. The right side of my mouth pulled up into a jittery smile. He drummed on my knee and squeezed Dad's hand.

  I imagined losing him. Standing over his casket as they lowered it into the earth. Then I quickly stopped imagining it because it was exactly what I feared.

  The slightest inkling of what Mom felt. Creeping right in.

  Don't die, I said inside. Don't you ever die, Donovan.

  Chapter 13

  I tried to focus on the boutique, my business plan, the designs I needed to sew, decor, my obnoxious roommate, but it was too much. Just too much all at once and with Mom refusing to shower or leave Dad's side, I felt horrible trying to maintain a normal life while he was still in a coma. They said maybe he'd come out soon, but once they try to get them to wake up it really depends on the person. Doctors were happy with the results of his anti-viral meds though. They seemed optimistic, but I think all of us feared optimism because of the let down it could bring.

  Fear or not, I refused to avoid optimism purely because of a potential let down. I believed and hoped Dad would be fine. Because he would.

  That's all I needed to know.

  Zoe ate a bowl of yogurt with blueberries on top as I poured cereal at the counter. I couldn't believe she was still living with me, but with their recent break up she seemed to become a little stalkeresque.

  "How's Donny?" she asked for the six millionth time.

  "Good." I crunched. "I'm good too. I mean, in case you were wondering."

  "I thought maybe I heard him in your room last night."

  "Nope." I crunched again. "He was on speaker phone though. So if you count his voice being in my room, then yeah, I guess he was."

  She nodded and stared off for a second, then said, "So ... um ... have you guys ever like ... has he kissed you?"

  I laughed a bit of milk right to my arm. And crunched. "No."

  "Never? But you guys are so close." She blushed. "And he's so hot."

  "He's okay."

  "Whatever. His arms. His back. Those eyes and that messy hair. He's like perfect."

  "He snores. Loud. He's horrible at laundry, pretty much lives out of his basket. He has a third nipple. Yes, it's true. And prominent. He constantly bangs the spoon against his teeth when he eats and always, always, always gets something stuck in his facial hair even if it's just a tiny bit of hair peeking through." I crunched. "So. Yeah. He's okay."

  She laughed a little. "You swear you never kissed?"

  "Not once. He's kissed the top of my head. I've kissed his cheek. In a school play he kissed my hand. That's about it."

  Technically, I wasn't lying. Because he kissed me.

  "Well, it's clear he's not into you like that, but I just figured you were into him."

  "Why?"

  "Because everyone is."

  "I'm not everyone." I really wanted to know why it was so clear that he wasn't into me though. Clear? Why clear?

  "That's an understatement." She put her bowl in the sink. "Mind washing that for me? I'm late for work."

  I glanced at her bowl and nodded.

  "Donny coming over tonight?" she said.

  "Donny boy will not be coming over tonight. I'll be sure to let you know."

  She stepped closer to me. Too close for comfort. And sniffed.

  I stepped back. "Did I forget deodorant?"

  She shook her head. "Sorry. I thought for a second that I smelled his cologne on you." She sighed. "I'm going to marry him, you know. He was looking for a ring. He wants to be with me."

  "Hmm. Yeah. I hope it works out for you."

  "Do you? I know you have to be jealous, being single for your entire life
and all."

  "Shouldn't you be at work?"

  She grabbed her purse, checked her reflection in her phone, and opened the door. "Sorry if I upset you. You're time will come."

  I laughed when she left and drank the milk in my bowl, washed our dishes, and wondered if people like Zoe realized they were so rude or if it just came so naturally that they genuinely believed they were being nice. I'm a believer in skepticism so I say ... rude. Just plain rude.

  I loved my apartment. Minus the Zoe part, but she wouldn't stay forever. Would she? It was so bright. Mornings. Afternoons. Evenings. Bright, bright, bright. I tried to sit down at the dining room table and plan stuff for the boutique, but Dad kept popping into my mind and I felt bad leaving Mom there to cry at his side.

  So I took a quick shower and called Autumn.

  "Hey," I said. "I'm gonna cancel lunch plans. I think I'm gonna go visit my dad for a while and then come back and try to figure out a name for this boutique."

  "Can I come over later? I'll help."

  "Of course. What's mine is yours."

  "Even Alistair Anonymous?"

  "If he were mine, sure. But he's not."

  She laughed. "I'll see you at seven?"

  "Perfect."

  "Send my love to your family."

  "Will do."

  Mom barely moved when I walked into the hospital room. I hadn't seen her sleep since he got there, so it was nice to see her conked out by Dad's bed, fingers locked with his. I watched them both, careful not to wake her. And I noticed Dad's eyelids flutter. At the same time as hers. I imagined them dancing together in their sleep.

  I admit ... their love was beautiful, as over the top as it was. They were best friends and lovers. The ideal marriage, really. I figured I'd be more of the "I married my best friend type"—I know what you're thinking and I do not mean Donovan—but I could appreciate those who had what my parents had. Of course they were pretty much the only people I knew who had what they had. The staring into each other's eyes was a bit much though. And the emotional decay when something happens to the other one. Not so much a fan.

  I would be stronger than that.

  Donovan texted me. How's Dad?

  Me:His eyelids are fluttering. Maybe that's a good sign? Mom is asleep beside him. Please don't ever let me fall apart if my husband gets sick. I want to be stronger.