I’m startled now, and I’m frozen in my tracks, because all of a sudden, the way she views me clicks into place.
“I thought you were just having fun,” I say slowly. “I thought you were just stroking your ego with me. Making yourself feel good. Surely you didn’t think it was anything else, right? You’ve known all along that I’m married. I was very plain about that.”
She’s silent. A second ticks by, then another and another. Finally, she answers.
“Yes. I knew that. But you’re an amazing guy, and you deserve better than her.”
I don’t even know what to say. I’m floored by this turn of events, and I have no words.
“Look, Zoe...”
“No, you look,” she says sharply. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. You don’t want to hurt your wife, and I get that. I respect it. But she doesn’t deserve you. Give it a little bit of time, and you’ll see that. Just give me a chance to show you what I can do...what I can be to you. I promise, you’ll be happy.”
“Zoe, no,” I answer, and something deep inside of me is on guard, on high alert.
“Jude, yes,” she replies firmly. “Trust me, you’ll be sorry if you don’t.”
She says it as though I’ll be sorry that I missed the opportunity, but her words...something about them...raise the hair on the back of my neck.
You’ll be sorry if you don’t.
She hangs up, and I stand frozen in the driveway for the longest time. The cold autumn breeze chills me, blowing right through my bones. When I finally go back inside, Corinne is still curled on her side sleeping. I sit down in the chair facing her.
She’s so vulnerable when she sleeps. So open and trusting.
When she’s awake, she’s got her guard up. With her past, with everything with her father, I understand why. I don’t like it, but I understand it.
She’s afraid of being hurt again by the people closest to her.
My phone burns a hole in my hand, and I want to smash it into the wall.
If Corinne knew about Zoe, it would be the biggest pain of all. It would crush her.
I’m an asshole for letting it even get this far.
I stare at the flowers on the table. They are wilting, and a dead petal falls to the table’s surface. I close my eyes so I don’t think of it as a metaphor for my marriage.
I’ll fix this.
I have to.
23
Five days until Halloween
Corinne
God, I feel like shit.
I thought I was sick yesterday. Today, I’m twelve times worse. Even now, my mouth pools with saliva, and I want to vomit again. As I talk to Jacks on the phone, my words sound feathery because I feel like I’m going to faint. I lean against a wall as I talk, and I briefly consider going home.
“Yeah, Jude isn’t the happiest with me right now,” I admit to her. “I’ve been working a lot, and he’s pissed about it.”
“What? What in the hell?” My sister is outraged on my behalf. “You work hard so that he can piddle around in his therapist job. If he’d gone on to med school, too, you wouldn’t have to work so hard.”
I take a shaky breath and will the vomit to stay in my belly where it belongs. My breath even smells sick, which makes me feel sicker.
“That’s not fair,” I tell her firmly. “Jude never wanted to be a psychiatrist. You know that. He feels they just push pills, and he wants to actually help people. Don’t be mean on my account.”
“I’m not,” Jackie insists. “He just shouldn’t get mad at you for picking up the financial slack.”
“Jesus, Jackie. He makes plenty of money. That’s not an issue.”
“Well, whose side do you want me to be on, anyway?” She acts bewildered. “Yours or his?”
I sigh, exhaling a sick breath. “There aren’t sides. We’ve just been bickering about it. It’s fine. Everyone fights. Everyone gets over them. He took care of me yesterday when I was sick. It was nice.”
I pause and gag. I put my hand over my mouth.
“You don’t sound good, Co.” Jackie just now notices.
“I’m not feeling good,” I admit. “Like, at all.”
“I’ll let you go, then.” Jackie releases me. “Go get something to drink. Water will help flush out the bug, if you’ve got one.”
“Yeah.” I hang up and head for the nurses’ station, where Brock looks at me in concern. “You’re white as a ghost, Corinne. You should go home. I’ve got this here.”
“Are you sure?” I ask tiredly.
He nods. “Absolutely. Go get some rest. Have Jude make you some soup.”
I have to chuckle at that because Jude doesn’t cook. “Good idea.”
I trudge to the parking garage, and my feet feel like they weigh a hundred pounds each, and the breath coming in and out of my mouth tastes sick.
“Great,” I mutter as I start my car. Wouldn’t you know...the one time I didn’t have time to get my flu shot in years.
I feel a wave of nausea well, and I barely stumble out of my car before I vomit all over the ground. Orange and pink chunks splatter, remnants of orange juice and grapefruit pieces, and the acid in my mouth is vile. I wipe my lips, and my forehead is beaded in sticky sweat.
I shiver as the breeze hits my damp skin, and there’s a noise.
I startle, because I’m alone, but the loud clap came from the shadows.
“Hello?” I call out, and the darkness is ominous and huge.
No one answers.
“Ed?” I call out the parking attendant’s name, and he doesn’t answer.
There’s another clap and then a crash, like trash cans knocking together.
I suddenly feel dizzy, so so dizzy, and I lean against my car.
“Dr. Cabot?”
A voice rings out through the emptiness, and I open my eyes. Lucy is walking toward me, her purse on her arm. “Are you okay, Corinne?”
My mouth pools again, and I shake my head before I vomit onto the pavement.
“Jesus,” she blurts out, and she jogs to my side, holding back my hair.
“Don’t get too close,” I tell her, wiping my mouth. “I’m pretty sure it’s the plague.”
“I don’t think you should be driving,” she tells me, looking me up and down. “You look like you’re about to fall over. Should I call Jude?”
I shake my head. “No. He stayed home with me yesterday, so he’s got a packed schedule today.”
“That does it. I’m taking you home. Stay right there. I’ll pick you up in a second.”
I don’t even argue. That’s how shitty I feel. She heads toward her car and comes back a few minutes later. I drop into the passenger side, my cheek resting against the cool window.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “God, I feel like I’m dying.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you to bed.”
I close my eyes, and she drives through traffic, into the suburbs and into my driveway. My sheets have never felt so good as I slide into them.
“I’ll let your dog out and bring you back some water. Can you call Jude? I don’t want you to be alone.”
“It’s just the flu, Luce,” I mumble, my face in my pillow because the coolness feels like Heaven. “I’ll be fine.”
“Just try to call him, okay?” Lucy disappears down the hall, and I hear the back door opening, then closing, as she takes Artie outside. I grab my phone without opening my eyes, fumbling around the nightstand.
I dial his number through slits in my eyes and wait. He doesn’t answer. I leave a voice mail.
“Babe, it’s me. I’m at home sick. Just letting you know. Don’t worry. Lucy is here, and for some reason, she doesn’t want to leave me alone. Call me when you get a chance.”
I hang up and close my eyes again.
“I’m so tired I’m going to die,” I moan to Lucy when she comes back in with water and aspirin.
“So your diagnosis is fatal fatigue?” She lifts a sculpted eyebrow, and if I didn’t feel so crappy, I’d laugh.
“Yes.”
I take the aspirin and a big drink of water. And then, just as the water hits my stomach, I have to vomit again. I lunge from the bed and race to the bathroom, barely making it. I hug the toilet afterward.
I heave and heave until there isn’t anything left to throw up. And it’s now, as I sit staring into the toilet, watching my orange-juice vomit float in the water, that something occurs to me.
My period is late.