Page 83 of Between Now and Forever

There were days we didn’t see another living thing—save the rare moose or loon. The hike through the state was supposed to take us twenty-two days, but we took our time because about two weeks in my dad was clearly struggling to keep up.

We made it another seven days, one day before he collapsed. We were in a dead zone and thanks to me, the satellite phone was dead.

So, we had to carry him unconscious for almost four miles until we reached a town where we could have him airlifted to Mt. Sinai where he had his treatments.

His cancer had come back and was in his brain and spine. He was the only one not surprised by the news. He’d known for three months, and he hadn’t told anyone.

He died two months ago, and I’m angrier than ever at him. I have so many unanswered questions. So many things to say. And because of the promise I made to him on his deathbed, I’m halfway across the world on my fucking tour. Far away from everyone and playing music I fucking hate.

It’s my final night in Venice. And instead of taking the car service home, I decide to walk back to my hotel. I spurn the invite to dinner and maybe more from one of the singers in the opera’s chorus. Saying no wasn’t easy. Drowning my sorrows in alcohol and pussy doesn’t sound half bad. But I know where that leads and the last thing my mother needs is me getting arrested in a foreign country.

The Piazza San Marco is the beating heart of Venice’s most bustling neighborhood. As I stroll the charming, brightly lit and mostly empty square, I regret not stopping by the famous St. Marks Basilica—I would have loved to see their pipe organ. I follow my phone’s GPS directions and turn down one of the side streets leading to my hotel. I pass a jewelry store and see something that makes me stop. It’s a body chain draped on a black velvet bust of a woman’s upper body.

The gold chain is interspersed with tiny chips of agate, aquamarines, sapphires, and diamonds and it’s hanging down the mannequin’s back.

I know right away that I have to have it—no matter how much it costs.

After months of calls that went straight to her voicemail, and countless texts, I promised myself I wouldn’t try calling again. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but after my father died, it was easier to push thoughts of her away.

But, this necklace feels like a sign. As I walk out of the jewelry store with it in my grasp, I have a lightness in my step.

I force myself to wait until I’m settled in bed before I reach for my phone to call her. I want to be able to have an uninterrupted conversation.

I reach for my phone. I scroll to Beth’s contact. I hesitate. What will I say?

She met my dad. He was there for her when her brother died. She might not even know that he’s dead. She’ll want to know. My finger hovers for a second longer and then, I close my eyes and press “call.”

It goes straight to voice mail, and even though disappointment claws at me, I leave a message. “Hi Beth, it’s me. Carter... I just wanted to say… My father died. I thought you might want to know.” I sound stilted and unsure and I consider deleting it. But I don’t and hang up.

A few minutes later my phone buzzes with a text.

It’s from her.

I open the message and read her reply.

If her three-word missive could even be called a reply.

Stop calling me.

I should have been prepared for it after all these months of silence. But to think that I may have put the final nail in my dad’s coffin because I used our satellite phone to callthiswoman? This callous dismissal feels like a swift, hard, steel-toed kick to the very softest part of my gut.

I throw my phone so hard it comes apart when it hits the travertine tiles. And then, I promise to do my best to pretend I never met the girl who made me believe in forever.

16

TESTED

ELISABETH

My grandmother,Eloisa Wolfe is a diminutive woman. She’s barely five feet tall and doesn’t have an ounce of spare weight on her. At seventy-five, she’s let her hair go completely white and she wears it in a stylish, impeccable bob that sways as she walks. The whimsy of it is in complete contradiction to the perpetual severity of her expression and the precision with which she does everything.

“There is no room for weakness in a young woman’s character.” That was the first thing she said when we arrived back at her house. The second was “your disobedience shows a lack of gratitude for all of the blessings that have been bestowed on you. You have a responsibility to your family, and you will keep it. While you live in this house, we will speak one language. Discipline. You will spend this next year learning how to take care of your husband and his home.”

I only nodded. I was getting what I deserved. I broke the rules, and the consequences were disastrous. My brother is dead and it’s because I wanted to go to a party. Because I wanted to be like everyone else. I was kissing Carter while he was driving through the rain to get to me.

And now, he’s gone. The least I can do, after everything, is to do what they say.

I have never spent any extended period of time with my grandmother. She sent a card with a check for $50 on my birthday and an advent calendar every year.

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