It was like a knife being slowly pushed through my heart. “He passed away last year.” I tried to say it with as much composure as possible, but my voice cracked at the last second.
“I am so sorry, Mia,” he said. Both of them stood there with sympathetic looks.
“Thank you.” I took a deep breath. “Hey, if you guys don’t have dinner plans tonight why don’t you come to my apartment and I’ll throw something together?”
“You live here now? Permanently?”
“After Pops died, I came out to run the café and I just fell in love with this place and the people here. What about you? Where do you live now?”
“London. Been there for five years.”
“That’s wonderful. So what do you say to dinner?” Jason looked over at Laura, who smiled and nodded.
“Yeah, that sounds great!”
“Okay, come over around seven.”
Jason and Laura were a charming couple, absolutely in love. She was studying to be a philosophy professor and he ran a nonprofit organization that helped get computers to schools in South Africa, where he’d lived with his family for several years before moving to London. We caught up while I cooked one of Will’s pasta recipes. While I sautéed vegetables on the stove the phone rang, so I told Jason to grab it.
“Hello?” He paused and looked over at me. “This is Jason, Mia’s friend.” Right at the most unfortunate moment I burned my hand and immediately ran over to the sink to run it under water. I heard Jason say, “She’s busy right now. Can she call you back?”
He hung up and walked over to me at the sink, “That was a guy named Will; is he your boyfriend?”
“No, roommate.”
“Oh, he seemed pissed.”
“He’s a lot nicer to women.” I was being facetious for no reason since Jason didn’t even know Will. Will was just as nice to men as he was to women, but I was feeling a little pissy after seeing the picture of him and Sonja on the magazine, so the comment just slipped out. Anyway, I knew he must have wondered who the heck Jason was and I’m sure his imagination was getting the best of him, but I didn’t care at that moment.
Later that night after Jason and Laura left, Jenny called. “What did you do tonight?” she blurted out without even saying hello.
“Nothing.”
“Oh, you’re gonna pull that bullshit? Will just called Tyler and asked if you were seeing someone. He said he called the apartment and some guy answered.”
“Jenny, just leave it alone. Will shouldn’t be involving you guys.”
“Well, okay, Mia, we’ll leave it alone. I can’t help you, anyway. Stop playing games, that’s all I’m gonna say.”
We said goodbye and that was that. She didn’t bring it up again.
Track 17: Angels’ Wings
On January 26th, exactly one week before Will was scheduled to come home, Jackson died. I took him for a walk through the park that morning. I threw the ball for him and he chased it like a puppy. We took a nap on a blanket overlooking the children’s playground; he seemed so happy and content. When we got back to the apartment, he went and curled up on his bed while I took a shower. Coming out the bathroom, I glanced into the doorway of my bedroom and noticed that he was lying in a different position. He was facing the wall, which was unusual and he was very still… too still.
I knew he was gone without getting any closer. “No, no no, please no.” I ran straight out of the apartment, wearing nothing but a robe. On the street, I was blasted by freezing air, which caused me to scream loudly. I was hysterical by the time I walked through the café door. Martha and Jenny swarmed me.
“It’s Jackson!” I said, sobbing.
Martha wrapped me in her arms then turned toward Paddy and Joe. “Can you boys man the counter?”
They stood up, proudly saluted Martha, and dashed behind the counter like it was the most important job they would ever do. “Thank you.” I mumbled, barely loud enough for them to hear.
“Of course, luv,” Joe said sympathetically, sounding just like my father. Pain shot through my heart again. I winced and then buckled over. Jenny rubbed my back and urged me toward the door.
Once on the street she called Tyler, asking him to come over immediately. When the three of us got to the landing outside my apartment door, I turned toward them. Hyperventilating, I tried to get the words out. “I can’t… go… back in there.” We slumped into a pile at the top of the stairs, both of them holding me tight as we waited for Tyler. I cried softly into my hands until I felt him moving past me. He bent down, leaned toward my ear and spoke slowly. “I’m sorry, Mia.”
“I know,” I said, voice raspy. “Thank you for helping.” He kissed my temple and went into the apartment.
He brought Jackson out, wrapped in a blanket. I stood up and put my hand on him. Through sobs I spoke to my dead dog. “I’m sorry, buddy. I love you—you were the best.” And he was. He didn’t even make a fuss about dying; he just curled up on his little bed and went to sleep. Man’s best friend… I get it.