Alone in the room, hurting, I suddenly wish for my father. He was always the one who took care of emergency room visits, who cheered us up when we were sick or hurt. Meadow seems like the ultimate earth mother, but she was never patient with weakness, including a flu or an injury. Rory and I laugh about it.
We were lucky to have Augustus. He would make all our favorite foods—for me it was peach cobbler, his own fabulous creation with secret ingredients I never learned. Sugary peaches and buttery crust with a tantalizing mix of spices.
My mouth waters. If I had my phone, I’d call Meadow and request that delectable dessert, even if I am a bad daughter for asking her to go away.
The nurse returns with a pregnancy test. I pee in a cup with some difficulty, and leave the specimen in the bathroom. A doctor comes in to set the wrist, which she does very gently, and then I’m lying there when Ayaz comes back in. He has the strap of my purse over his shoulder, and I see the phone sticking out. He’s also carrying two soft-serve ice cream cones, one of which he hands to me. “They said it was all right.”
“I am probably going to cry over this,” I say, blinking tears away, “because I’m very emotional right now, but this is so very, very nice.”
“You’re welcome.” He settles the purse next to me, and admires my pink cast. “Cheerful.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Are you finished? I would be happy to drive you home.” He winks. “It’s on my way, you know.”
“I have to wait for a couple of things, but yes. I would like a ride.” It’s impossible to pull the phone out while I’m eating an ice cream cone, but the food is much more important.
The nurse bustles back in. “Here’s a prescription for Norco,” she says. “It should be all right for a few days no matter what.”
“Oh, no narcotics. I’m in recovery.”
She nods, a hand up. “Understood. Let me get you some good Tylenol. Is that okay?”
“Yep.”
“The other,” she says, with a sideways glance at Ayaz, “is a yes.”
“Really.”
She squeezes my hand. “Really.”
A strange, wild thing moves through my body, beneath my ribs, inside my breasts. I dive deep into my belly to see if I can feel anything alive in there, but what it feels like is a glowing sun brightening the entirety of everything.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Meadow
I spend two days working with Kara on the logistics of getting Peaches and Pork up and running again, driving between Ojai and the restaurant twice, when I might have stayed at Belle l’été, but never mind.
Kara wants to aim for reopening next Thursday, which gives us time to get everybody back to work and clean the kitchen out properly. The books themselves are in good shape, thanks to Kara, but the money is very low. I can’t support it forever, but for a few weeks I can float some cash flow. Crass as it is, there should be lots of interest in the place in the aftermath of Augustus’s death. Kara suggests a memorial cocktail, something made with bourbon and cherries, and I agree that it’s perfect.
A visual of some festive evening in the early 2000s wafts over the screen of my memory, Augustus dressed in a well-pressed linen shirt the color of peach sorbet, eyes glittering as we toasted whatever it was, devastatingly sexy, his eyes all for me. We had so much fun with those parties. For a moment, I’m lost in the memories, the pleasure of those years.
Then I’m swamped with a sudden exhaustion. Time. So much time. So many moments of laughter and sorrow. Misunderstandings, connection, the deep tangle of two human beings in intimate concert with each other.
The weight of it all drags on me as I get in the car to drive back up to Ojai. But I just sit in the car for a moment looking out at the landscape. A thread of smoke rises from a far northern spot, and a shiver moves up my arms. It seems early for a fire, but the winter was extremely dry.
But honestly, I can’t worry about one more thing. To lighten my spirits, I call Rory. “Hey, Rory-Bear,” I say, using Augustus’s nickname for her. “I’ve really got the blues over all this. Are the girls home? Can I come by and get some baby love?”
“Of course!” She sniffles. “I’ve had a really hard day, too.”
“Oh, sweetheart. Have you? Missing your dad?”
“Ye-es.” Her voice goes breathy with a sob, and my heart aches a hundred times more. I would take all her suffering if I could, bear it by myself so she wouldn’t have to. “I’ll be there soon, baby.”