CHAPTER TWENTY  

Gina sipped her hot decaf coffee as a nurse checked her mom’s vitals and ran a few other quick tests to measure her progress. Her head movement had improved, but she was still too wobbly when she tried to stand on her own. Gina stood and looked out the window when her phone buzzed.

I took May to a nice dinner. Roza is watching the kids at your house. How’s Mom?

Gina was a little jealous that May liked Aunt Vicky more than she liked her. She knew it was because Vicky didn’t have to enforce any rules, but it still stung. She sighed and sent a quick response.

Have fun. Mom’s okay. Maxine Fuller stopped by. I’ll fill you in later. What a B!

Slipping her phone back in her purse, she pulled out her trusty notebook.

Tomorrow her mom would be moved to the rehab facility. It had already been four days since her stroke. Gina would be glad to be out of the hospital with the perpetual round of doctors. She started a list of things that needed to be done before then.

1. Pack up Mom’s toiletries and clothes.

2. Pick up fresh flowers.

3. Breakfast for seven? Eggs? Pancakes?

She put her pen down. The long hours in the hospital were starting to wear at her. Every time she walked through the doors, she had déjà vu of the worst day of her life.

May had been at school, but it was a warm March day, rare in Wisconsin. Spring flowers peeked out of the thawing soil, buds had started to swell on dormant branches, and geese winged their way back north, crossing overhead in large V formations. She had opened all the windows in the house before heading out to work, wanting to clear out the stale winter air.

Both she and Drew had been late that morning, having taken advantage of the empty house after May had left to catch the school bus. She had run her hands down her husband’s chest, trailing over his stomach. His firm waist from their twenties had been replaced by a softer layer, though she still enjoyed the way T-shirts tightened around his strong arms. She was no twenty-five-year-old either, with her stretch marks and padded butt, too much time in an office chair and too little time on a treadmill. None of that mattered, though, because they were still googly-eyed in love.

He had cropped his longer locks a few years ago, and now gray mingled with his dark blond. She ran her hand across the tattoos of her and May’s names, kissing them.

“Maybe we should both call in sick today,” she said, knowing he’d catch her drift.

Drew did catch her drift and chuckled. His laugh rumbled in his chest.

“Should I call myself, then? I think I’ll know that I’m full of shit. I can’t, babe. I have three people picking up their bikes today. You know this is the busy season, no matter how badly I want to call in sick with you. Everyone wants them as soon as riding weather arrives. The thunder is going to be loud this weekend if the sunshine holds.”

“Do you miss it?”

Drew had sold his motorcycle the moment they found out Gina was pregnant, a few months after the night he’d met her parents. Three months after that they married. She didn’t tell her parents until the day after May was born. Her mom had arrived at the hospital with an armful of flowers that must have cost a fortune.

“Not one bit. And I get to ride them around the parking lot.”

“That’s not the same.”

“I know. When May is grown, I might get another one, but it’s really more fun fixing them up. That was always my favorite part anyway.” He pulled his shirt over his head. “Can you stop by later? I want to show you my progress on Grilled G’s.”

“What’s Grilled G’s?”

“The name of your food truck.” His eyes danced with mischief. “I thought Grilled G’s would be a great name, ’cause it sounds like grilled cheese. Get it?”

Gina didn’t think it was possible, but she fell in love even more with her husband in that moment. He had found an old square truck and started fixing it for her, salvaging cooking equipment, rebuilding the engine, and replacing rusted sheets of metal. Once he was done, she was going to start visiting farmers’ markets and festivals on the weekends. The money would go toward May’s college fund and their retirement. And now, on top of all that, he’d come up with the perfect name for it.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“You pretended you couldn’t remember any of the information I told you so you could keep setting up redundant meetings with me.”

He kissed her, sending heat to every part of her body, even after fifteen years.

“Are you sure you can’t call in sick?”

“I wish. But if I ever get there, maybe I can leave early.”

“I’ll come visit at lunch. Maybe you can close up shop for a while.” She winked at him.

He grabbed a piece of paper—his daily note to May—then started down the steps, stretching and rubbing his left arm.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Gina went to her underwear drawer and pulled out his favorite pair. She wanted to be very persuasive later.

At noon, Gina parked her car in front of his small shop and turned off the engine. Drew didn’t need much room for the bikes. An old gas station with two garage doors and a large storage room for parts was the perfect size. One of the garage bays held the newly christened “Grilled G’s.” She couldn’t wait to see his progress on it.

She stepped through the door, the loud radio Drew liked to listen to while working drowning out the tiny bells hanging on the entrance that announced new customers. She turned down the volume. Two bikes, shiny and polished, waited for their owners to pick them up.

“Drew! Where are you?”

No answer. His car was out back, so he must be around. The bathroom? She looked in the waiting room, but the bathroom door was wide open. The storage room?

“Drew?”

He better not be planning to jump out and startle her. She hated that. He had done it once when they were first married, and she’d punched him in the face. Both of them were surprised to learn she was a fighter, not a flight-er.

Light leaked from the storage room, where shelves were lined up in rows like a library for parts. She looked down each row, getting more and more irritated that he hadn’t answered her. After she put on this uncomfortable underwear and everything.

But down the row full of tires, the last one, she finally found him. He lay on the ground, eyes closed and arms at an awkward angle.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said as she walked toward him. “Get up. You know scaring me never goes well.”

He didn’t move, not even a smile or a twitch to let her know he had heard her. He was really committed. She knew how to break him.

“I have your favorite underwear on.” She stepped over his body, a foot on either side of his waist. He only needed to crack open an eye and take a peek up her skirt to confirm. But he didn’t.

“Drew, knock it off. You’re taking the fun out of it.” She nudged him with her foot, but it was like trying to move a sandbag. Her mouth went dry as she dropped to her knees, putting her hands on his face. Still warm. His chest rose up and down—not a lot, but he was still alive. Her own breath raced, more than making up for his lack.

“Drew.” She slapped his face a little. Nothing. She did it harder, then harder. “Drew!” Nothing. He wasn’t playing.

911. She needed to call 911.

A blur of sirens and paramedics, then glaring hospital lights. She couldn’t process what was happening. They were supposed to be making love in his office, not roaring into an emergency room. She overheard words like “heart attack” and “nonresponsive.” Those weren’t words for a forty-three-year-old. He just needed to get up. No one was stronger or healthier than Drew. Why wasn’t he getting up? Why weren’t his eyes open? His beautiful, laughing blue eyes. Gina moved to get closer to where he lay but was grabbed by someone in scrubs and pushed out of the room. She pushed back, and more people came to deny her. He needed her. Why wouldn’t they let her go to him? He would wake up if she was there. She knew it.

“No.” Her voice roared above the emergency room din. “Drew! I need to be with him!”

An overstrong nurse in green scrubs pushed her to the waiting room, Gina’s feet sliding on the shiny floors as she tried to get around the woman. “Mrs. Zoberski.” She held her firm. An NFL linebacker wouldn’t get past this woman. “We’ll come get you when we’re done, but we need you out here so we can work.” The doors behind her swung shut, and she could no longer see the room where Drew was. He wouldn’t know she was here. How much she needed him.

A low moan of defeat came from her lips. The effort of resisting had been too much and now the adrenaline was gone, leaving limp muscles behind. Instead of holding her back, now the burly nurse had to hold her up.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” She waited for Gina to answer the question.

Gina covered her mouth with her hands. This was serious. Like he might not make it serious. Her mind whirled like a carnival ride as she tried to contemplate a world without Drew’s smile and warm feet and warmer heart. Another person in scrubs came to sit next to her, helping her call Vicky. She couldn’t speak, so the woman did. She stared at the hospital floor tiles, matte so they didn’t reflect the bad lighting.

Time stopped. Her mind detached. Would she be here long? She should get back to the shop so Drew’s customers could get their bikes. She should have grabbed his schedule while she was there. She should write this down on a list, but she didn’t have any paper or pens with her. Why wasn’t she more prepared?

Then her mother arrived. She didn’t have flowers. She replaced the faceless person in scrubs. Vicky must have called her. She didn’t speak either. Gina could only get one word out from her clenched jaw.

“May?”

“Vicky is picking her up from school right now and bringing her here.”

A woman with short red hair in a white coat finally came out from where they’d taken Drew. The red hair stood out against the hospital’s bland colors and a bright blue and yellow Tweety Bird bandage was wrapped around her index finger. The edges were peeling back. She wanted to get the woman a new bandage and help her put it on. The red-haired doctor was followed by a person in green scrubs. Gina didn’t know if it was the same person who had pulled her away from Drew. They were all concerned brows and folded hands. She hated them.

“Mrs. Zoberski.”

Gina shifted her weight to her feet to stand. She didn’t want to have to look up at them when they said aloud what their faces had already told her. But the floor seemed to alter, turning to ice, and any strength in her legs fled. She couldn’t find her footing and melted to the ground, the cold floor numbing her body. Crumbs of dirt bit into the palms of her hand and a goldfish cracker stared at her from underneath a nearby chair. They should sweep more.

But the doctor still knelt beside Gina.

“Mrs. Zoberski, your husband had a myocardial infarction, what you would call a heart attack. He survived the first one but had another in the hospital. We couldn’t save him. I’m so sorry for your loss.” She said more words, explanations for why this had happened, but all Gina could understand was the “we couldn’t save him” part. They couldn’t save him. Drew had never needed saving, not once. He was the saver, the knight in white armor.

A wail poured from her throat as she fought to remain whole, but lost. She wanted to curl into a ball to preserve what she could, but the truth pulled at her, demanding its payment. Her heart tore into two. People talked about a broken heart, a metaphor for sadness. But at that moment, Gina knew it was no metaphor. A ragged cut slowly pulled her apart, like a piece of paper being ripped in two. She would never be whole again. No amount of ointment or bandages would heal it. Arms, not her own, wrapped around her shoulders, doing their best to contain the damage, but it was too late.

“When you’re ready, we can take you back to him,” a voice said.

She nodded. She’d see him if it meant crawling to him on her hands and knees, but her mom, with strength she drew from somewhere unknown in her modest frame, pulled Gina up and looped her arm around her waist. They followed the doctor together, through heavy doors that closed with a whisper behind them. Past rooms where people waited with small children, past a room where several people surrounded a patient, past a gangly teen boy with his arm in a sling. Machines beeped and people spoke in urgent tones. The hallway went on forever. A part of her wished the hallway would keep going, because she knew what waited for her at the end.

And then there was Drew. A nurse finished coiling a tube and pushing a machine out of the way. He wasn’t connected to anything—there was nothing left to track. He looked exactly the same as he had that morning. Same silver-flecked gold hair, same big strong arms, same tattoo trailing down, marking her way home. But everything was different, too. Motionless, he may as well have been wax.

His chest was bare, so she could see her and May’s names, still over his heart, still with him. May’s childlike writing etched on his skin. Forever. She touched her hand to the spot, begging for a miracle, a flutter, one more second to tell him how much she needed him and loved him and couldn’t live a life without him. How May needed him. Her heart stuttered at the thought. She had been so focused on herself and Drew, she had forgotten May. This fresh agony cut even deeper, making it impossible to breathe. What should have doubled her grief instead multiplied it by ten, twenty, a hundred, like some horrific grief calculus. Drew would never see May graduate high school, fall in love, get married. He wouldn’t be able to teach her how to drive or move her into her first apartment. The loss pushed down on her like a mountain. She wished she could let it crush her to dust. Anything to make it stop.

How could he be gone? Couldn’t they start today over? She swore if she could wake up again, she’d pack him in the car and take him to the hospital to find the problem. Just back it up a few hours.

He was already cool to the touch. She lay her head on his chest, then regretted it instantly. There was no heartbeat, only the husk of the man he had been hours before. She leaned over to kiss his lips, her hand held his stubbly chin for the last time.

“I’d still jump in a river for you.”

Her voice cracked.

Her mom took her hand, and they stared together at his body, Gina wondering where the spirit of him had gone. The noise in the hallway continued just like before, and Gina didn’t understand. How could life go on without Drew? How could she go on?

“May will be here soon. You need to pull yourself together and move forward. You need to be there for her like I was there for you and Victoria.”

Gina yanked her hand away and stepped back.

“No.” The anger felt good, giving her a place to funnel all the rawness. “I’m not you, Mom. I’m not going to just get over Drew and get back to my life like you did when Dad died.” Lorraine sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to move forward. I can still feel his kisses on my lips, smell his aftershave on my shirt. We were supposed to be having lunch at his shop right now. I will not pretend that this isn’t destroying me.”

Lorraine straightened her spine and pinched her lips.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No, you’re the one who has no idea, Mom.”

Her mother’s lips grew thinner.

“Daddy? Daddy?” May’s voice rang down the hall and Gina stepped out to meet her, pulling her into a hug, her body blocking May’s view. Vicky followed a few steps behind. Gina didn’t want May to see her dad like this, so still and cold. She should remember him vibrant and boisterous. “I want to see Daddy. Is he okay?”

Gina shook her head and looked into Vicky’s eyes over her daughter’s dark hair. Vicky covered her mouth as her eyes welled.

“No, baby. But you don’t need . . .”

Lorraine joined Gina in the hallway, gently setting her hand on Gina’s shoulder.

“She does.”

“No . . .”

Lorraine’s voice grew firmer and she unwrapped Gina’s arms from around May, freeing her.

“You can’t protect her from this. It’s important for her to say her goodbyes herself.” Her mom grabbed Gina’s hand. “There is a healing in farewells that she is going to need.”

May shrieked when she ran into the room, a sound Gina had never heard come from her daughter before. She stopped inside the door and took a step back. Vicky, a step behind her, set her hands on May’s shoulders. As she watched May take in the truth, Gina’s heart broke in half again for her daughter, leaving her only a quarter to live on. May and Drew had been two peas in a pod. She even knew how to take an engine apart and put it back together, just like her father had taught her. Last year, she’d repaired the stand mixer with his help. Who would help her now?

Lorraine had been right about one thing. She needed to pull herself together for May. She’d keep her mourning private or with Vicky. May needed to be her focus. That one thought, and her quarter of a heart, would get her through the next moment, and then the next, and maybe even the next.