Page 51 of Waiting for Gilbert

My phone vibrates before I’ve put it away.

Nathan: Diana wants to know if Cordy made it home.

Nathan: I told her you aren’t her sister’s keeper, but can you check?

Gilbert: I’m with her. Sort of. She’s being weird.

Gilbert: Not weird but quiet.

Nathan: That’s weird for Cordy.

Nathan: Diana says that’s inappropriate and you shouldn’t be alone together.

Gilbert: Tell Diana I’m a saint.

Nathan: She says so is Augustine.

Gilbert: ?

Nathan: IDK, I’m just the messenger.

Nathan: Diana also says Cordy does the quiet thing sometimes. She’ll be fine.

Gilbert: Ok

I’m less anxious but a blast of hot anger shoots through me instead. Diana knows this happens and hadn’t bothered to check on her sister until I reached out to Nate? My text jogged Diana’s memory that she has a family member in bad enough shape she may not have made it home? Did she have acluethat Cordelia would sit in the car to the point of hypothermia? It’s still below zero out there.

I’m not about to leave Cordelia in this state. Someone who’ll stay in the cold until they can’t move cannot be trusted to care for themselves. My brother Cameron used to have mood swings similar to this. Hm. Once he didn’t shower or leave the house for over a week. Can’t be having that.

“Okay, Champ.” I clap my hands once, and she lifts her head with a scowl. “Pity party’s over.”

She huffs, the sides of her mouth turned down, but glances at her mug of tea. “I’m not having any kind of party.”

“Sure you are. I don’t know what about. But by all accounts you’ve spiraled into a weird slump, and I don’t see you climbing out anytime soon. I’m here. Let’s do this.”

She unzips her coat. “Sounds like you have everything figured out, Coach.”

Fine. I can be Coach. If I ignore the ugly tone of her voice. I clear my throat. “What set you off?” Maybe if I get her talking, it’ll help. I wonder if sitting beside her is intimidating. The box on the floor has begun to absorb water from the snow I tracked in. I place it on the table. “Shall we see what’s in here?”

“It’s the showerhead.” Not the least bit excited.

Wow, she’s fallen hard. “Awesome. I’ll install it for you tonight.”

“Whatever.”

I snap open the top of the box and mimic her with extra snark. “Whatever!” Whistling in amazement, I unpack everything. “Now would ya look at this? It comes with a detachable hose. You picked a good one. This brushed nickel will look really nice.”

“Listen, Gilbert…”

I’m very interested in unloading the box. What have we here? I’ve never seen a showerhead and must examine it from all angles.

“I don’t know what you’re doing here. You’re very annoying. Asking what set me off?” Her whiny voice reminds me of Nate’s oldest girl, Lauren. “Nothing set me off. I’m not some kind of machine. An uncontrollable device that malfunctions willy-nilly? That’s insulting. I’m sad. Okay? I’m annoyed. I’m angry.” Her whimper is both pathetic and laughable. “I’m in the depths of despair.”

She’s told me to scram, yet she’s still talking. Maybe I should stay but be cool about it. More friend, less coach?

Got it.

The showerhead instructions are in four different languages. I slowly open the accordion of gibberish and avoid giving too much attention to her. Just a handyman neighbor friend drinking tea and installing stuff. Let’s pretend that I’m the kind of man who normally reads instructions in detail. Hahaha. What a good actor I am.

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