Crossing Paths (33 page)

Tuesday

I’m going through a file drawer and organizing paperwork just to pass the time. My office phone rings, and I see my mom’s number flash across the screen.

“Hi, Mom.”

“June, I only have a minute. I was wondering if you were busy tonight.”

“Not really. Caroline’s still out of town, and it’s a weeknight.”

“Oh, good. Addison and I are hoping you might join us for dinner.”

“I guess so. Is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine. We just thought it would be fun to have a girls’ night. We’ll pick you up at six.”

“Okay. See you then.”

My day is filled with nothing worth mentioning. Around four thirty, I tell Mr. Hargrove that I’m headed home for the day, and he is packing up to head out the door as well.

Mom and Addison are right on time, which is unusual, and they decide they want to eat at my favorite Mexican place.

“So, have you heard from Caroline?” my mom asks.

“No. Can we talk about something else?”

“Um, sure,” my mom says.

We sit in silence for a few minutes. Glancing around the restaurant, my eyes stop at the booth where Cohen and I sat on the first day he was in Houston. Now, a couple is sitting in the same booth, having dinner, as they laugh and hold hands across the table.

“How is the baby doing?” I ask Addison, trying to make small talk to get my mind off Cohen.

“Really good. We heard the heartbeat at the last appointment. It was amazing.”

“I bet it was.”

“You know, we’re going to be done here pretty early. There are a couple of museums with new exhibits. How about we go check one out?”

Did my mom just change the subject from baby to museum?
“I don’t know, Mom. I’m pretty tired.”

“Come on, June. You’re young. It’ll be fun.”

I reluctantly agree. She pays the cashier, and we head out.

When we pull into the parking lot, I realize we are at the Museum of Fine Arts. Tears prick my eyes, but I close them quickly.
Why, after only knowing Cohen for two weeks, does everything remind me of him?

We walk through the museum slowly, and each corner we turn brings back another memory. Even the silence of the museum reminds me of our laughter when we were here.

When I finally get home after spending the evening with my mom and sister, I am exhausted. My legs feel tired from walking, and my mind feels tired from feeling. As I lie in bed, I try to shut it all down. My legs already feel better, but my mind continues to race through all my moments with Cohen. I can tell it’s going to be a long night.

Wednesday

Two meetings take up the whole day. Mr. Hargrove sends me home with several loose ends to tie up on a big project due on Friday. I stay up most of the night before finally getting some sleep.

Thursday

I walk into my office without luster. This week feels as if it’s passing by with the speed of a slug making his way through molasses. If the boredom sets in early today, I might run screaming through the hallways for some excitement. With several meetings to prepare for, I’m feeling like today should be better. As I sit down at my desk, my office phone begins to ring, and I see that it’s my boss.

“Good morning,” I say, trying to sound like my usual self.

“Good morning, June. Listen, I need you to send a potted plant for me right away. I just got a call that Cohen’s wife has died. I had no idea he was even married, but apparently, she was sick for a while. They’re having the funeral Saturday, but I would like to send a plant to their house.”

Blinking my eyes, I try to focus on what he just said.
Was he talking about Julie?
She can’t be dead.

“June, are you there?”

“Yes, sir. Uh, where did you need me to send that plant to?”

He gives me the address, and I scribble it down on a bright yellow sticky note. Just as I hang up the phone, it rings again.

“Yes, sir?”

“June?”

I haven’t been answering my cell phone since I left Washington. I turned it off on the ride to the airport, and I didn’t turn it back on until I got home later that night. I have kept it on silent, and except for calling my parents, I have avoided even looking at my phone. I have fifteen voice mails and I don’t how many text messages, but I can’t bring myself to listen or open any of them. It’s not that I am angry necessarily. I mean, a part of me wishes that Caroline would have come clean earlier, but I can understand not wanting to throw your brother under the bus. The main reason I haven’t answered the phone is because I have no clue what to say.

“June?” Caroline says again.

“Yes.”

“Hey.”

“Hi. How are you?” I ask, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

“If you want the truth, I’ve been better.”

We sit in silence for a moment before I hear Caroline sigh loudly.

“June, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” I say, wanting this conversation to end already. “I’m okay. Really, I am. I just needed some time to think.”

“How is the thinking going?”

“Not good, but I’ll be alright. When are you coming home?” I ask, knowing she will have to stay for a funeral.

“Actually, that’s why I called. I didn’t mean to be pushy with all the phone calls and text messages, but I need to talk with you. We won’t be coming home until Sunday at the earliest.” She pauses and then takes a breath. “Julie passed away yesterday, and the funeral is on Saturday.”

“I heard.”

“Cohen’s been a mess, June.”

“Well, I am sure he has. His wife died.”

“No, June. That’s not what I mean. You really should talk to him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. He needs time to grieve.”

“Just come be here with me and with Liam this weekend, and maybe you’ll understand a little better.”

“Caroline, it’s not going to happen. I have too much work to do, and Liam can use his work perks for flights only so many times during the year. I don’t want to use them all up for a pointless trip where I will just end up with my heart broken again.”
There. I said it.

“But—”

“Just drop it! My office is sending a potted plant to Cohen’s house, and that is as close as I’m getting to the situation.”

“Okay,” Caroline says, sounding defeated. “I guess I’ll see you late Sunday.”

“Alright. Give Liam a hug for me. I’m glad he’s there for you.”

“Okay.”

I hang up the phone and plow through my day. As expected, meetings and conference calls fill my schedule and help the afternoon pass quickly. It’s after six in the evening when I finally wind things down for the day.

When I get to the apartment, I go through the motions of getting ready for bed, and then I throw myself onto the couch. I turn on some music and allow the melody to pass through my body as I close my eyes. The lyrics pierce my mind as a husky male voice sings to me about giving things another chance. I quickly hit the shuffle button, hoping for something more upbeat. I am successful with the upbeat sound, but I still find the lyrics pressuring me to think about my decisions. I turn off the music and decide to go to bed. Surely, my dreams will leave me alone.

I wake up in the middle of the night, sweating and tightly wound up in my sheets. After untangling my limbs, I walk to the bathroom and splash some cold water on my face.