Page 21 of Changing Tides

Dr. Philips shakes his head. “Gosh, that is just awful, Liam. I’m so sorry for you both. Thank you for her service, truly.” Perhaps sensing that it’s getting too emotional, he asks if he can take Lucy from me, then places her on the table. “Let’s check out this rash, Lucy.” He lays her back. He does a thorough examination, listens to her heart, checks her ears, eyes, and throat, and inspects the rash. Then he picks her up and turns to me. “A lot of times, these rashes are viral. Babies often get viruses and once the immune system responds, they develop a rash. There are several childhood illnesses that present like this. But unfortunately, there isn’t always a clear answer. It could be any number of childhood viruses. There’s no need to test for these because Lucy is presenting like a baby with her first cold. If she worsens, or if her fever doesn’t break in a couple of days, you’ll need to bring her back.” He hands Lucy back to me.

I nod, taking her back from the doctor. “Okay. So, we just do nothing but wait and keep her comfortable?”

“We’ll swab her throat to make sure it’s not more serious, but in the meantime, treat this like any illness you might get. Rest, fluids, Tylenol when needed. She’ll be feeling better in a few days,” Dr. Philips smiles. “And once she’s feeling better, let’s get her back in here for those shots she is behind on.”

Dr. Philips wraps up the appointment by swabbing Lucy’s throat and says he will send out the test to the lab. I won’t hear anything for a few days. We get in the car, and Lucy falls right to sleep. I decide to cruise around a bit so she can rest. I drive past our house without pulling in, and I can’t help but notice that Sophie’s car is gone. I feel awful about how I spoke to her last night. I would love to talk to her, but she seems to be preoccupied with company now. I have to wait until I can catch her alone. In the meantime, I will do the best I can to help Lucy feel better.

I get home, put Lucy in the playpen with Elmo, and fix myself some coffee. I haven’t had any caffeine yet and I feel the headache starting. I sit down in the recliner with my phone. I have several texts that I have ignored all morning.

Melanie: How is Lucy this morning?

Ellie: Liam, Sophie said Lucy is sick. How is she? Are you alright?

Perry Street Boys (Group Text): Anyone want to go out tonight?

All of a sudden though,I don’t have the energy to answer anyone. I put my phone on the end table with my untouched cup of coffee and drift in and out of sleep.

* * *

I wake up with a startle.It was just a dream.I exhale deeply and rub the sleep out of my eyes. I was dreaming of Cara, the night she died. She was trying to get in my car but non-dream Liam knew what was going to happen so dream-Liam tried to stop her.

I shake my head and look around the room, breathing a sigh of relief. I’m still in the recliner, Maggie’s wet nose is nudging my hand, and Lucy is sleeping in the pack-and-play. I am relieved that she’s resting. Maggie whines and nudges me again. “Okay, you have to go outside, girl?” I ask her. I get up from the recliner and walk over to Lucy. I look down at her sleeping, feel her sweaty forehead and then her back to make sure she is breathing. She is. I think I googled that sweating could mean her fever is breaking.

“Okay, let’s go.” I motion Maggie toward the door.

I look down at my watch. 3 p.m. We must have been asleep for quite a while. I know I have to get back to everyone who texted me, but I am haunted by the dream I just had. I can’t stop remembering the night like it was yesterday, not twenty-two years ago. But my dream was different because this time, I know the ending. Everything leading up to the accident was the same, but in my dream, I didn’t want to get in the car.

“Come on, Liam! Let’s go!” Cara skips down my front steps and out to my beat-up old Ford Mustang. I feel so cool driving this car. I had it repainted to be a metallic navy blue that glistened in the sun. I put bright neon green rims on the tires and tinted the windows. I can only fit two additional people because I put a large bass in half of the backseat so people can hear me coming. “Unlock my door!” She squints at me, shading her eyes.

I am paralyzed on the steps. “No. I don’t want to go anymore,” I say carefully.

“Liam! Melanie is waiting for us. Come on.” Cara stamps her foot. “This is the first football game of the year! Don’t you want to get a good spot?” She puts her hands on her hips. “Besides, I’ll make it worth your while,” she teases.

There isn’t much that Cara can’t convince me to do. She smiles mischievously and makes a come-hither motion with her index finger. I huff and stomp down the steps.

Although it’s a night game in September, it’s not completely dark yet. We stop to pick up Melanie, who squeezes in the backseat. We are blasting Blink 182 as I approach a four-way stop off the Garden State Parkway. There is no one stopped on the other side, but I do see a large pickup making its way pretty quickly. Feeling cocky, and a little amped up for the evening, I gun it through my side of the four-way, but the pickup never stops.

Cara was killed instantly, and I will never forget the painful scream that I heard last.

The sound of the crash in my dream is what startled me awake. For years, I have had dreams like this. I could generally work through them with Doc during my weekly sessions, and we discovered that high levels of stress brought them back. Shocker. I have been abnormally stressed the last few months. No wonder the dreams are coming back. The last few days, I have been short-tempered and irritable. And lonely, oh so lonely.

11

SOPHIE

“Oh my god.” I cover my face with a pillow. “I am going to die,” I groan. “Why did you let me drink so much?”

Claire snorts. “Girl, you did that all by yourself.” She is sitting up on the velvet sofa with a piping hot mug of coffee. “Would you like me to fix you a coffee?”

My stomach rumbles, and I can’t answer her because I’m running for the bathroom. I’m going to be sick. I emerge a few minutes later with nothing left in my stomach and plop down on the couch next to Claire. She hands me a cup of coffee and a beer. “Hair of the dog? Or coffee?”

I pick up the beer first and take a swig, swishing it around in my mouth. Then I pick up the coffee deciding the beer isdefinitelynot what I need. I smell it first and then take a sip. “Did you put Kahlua in this?” Ellie has an old liquor cabinet in the cottage with a note on it that saysHelp Yourselfin case her guests don’t bring any alcohol.

Claire grins mischievously.

I laugh at her. “You’re impossible.”

Claire laughs too, throwing her head back. “Hey, you know the hair of the dog is a proven method to feeling better after a night of drinking too much. There’s more regular coffee in the pot.” She gestures with a shrug. Then, more seriously, she looks at me and says, “You told James you’re moving to Cape May last night. Is that true?”

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