Page 218 of Ice Darling
While we eat, I glance across the table and notice a very exhausted Max listening attentively to May. She flings her arms back and forth as she tells her story, and Max drags a full cup of soda out of harm’s way before it’s knocked to the ground by her gestures.
May then lifts her fork full of pasta and brings it to her mouth. Max slides a napkin on the table to catch the noodles as they fall from the spines.
May finishes the story without noticing any of his accommodating actions and waits expectantly.
In response, Max tilts his lips up in a smile. For a brief moment, the exhaustion written all over his face eases, and he laughs. It’s booming and belly-deep and genuine.
May grins, eyes sparkling as if she takes his laughter as a personal accomplishment.
Something about the interaction makes me stare at them a little harder.
Renthrow sees the direction of my gaze.
I arch an eyebrow in May and Max’s direction as if to say, “Do you see that?”
He scrunches his nose in response.“Them? No way.”
I look at them again and notice their glaring height and age difference. Max is more than a foot taller and ten years older than May.
I dismiss my hunch as Max being brotherly and continue to enjoy lunch.
After the plates are cleared, the men have a big, macho fight about who pays the tab. It feels like it’ll drag on forever until Mauve comes to our rescue with separate bills for each of the couples.
I notice that Max pays for May’s pasta, but I don’t bring it up to anyone.
After Renthrow drives me back to the garage, I tell him that I’ll be working late tonight and not to set a plate for me. I’ve been at his house almost every night, and I’ve fallen way behind on my engine repair studies.
Renthrow leaves me with a long, lingering kiss that’s hot enough to keep me warm overnight.
I return to the job I love, working with people I respect. And I don’t feel the time slipping by until I get a call from Renthrow.
“Hey.” I check my watch. It’s not even five o’clock.
“Cordelia.” He sounds urgent, and I’m instantly on guard. “It’s Gordie. She’s having another episode.”
Chapter Seventy-Four
Renthrow
Gordie’s been doing so well.Extremelywell. It’s been weeks since she’s had an episode, and we’ve all been so optimistic about her progress that Mom gently brought up the topic of returning to the cruise ship last night.
Is that what triggered Gordie’s retreat under the table?
I clench my fingers into fists and dial the therapist’s office, blustering with fear, helplessness, and anger as I wait for the line to connect.
“Hello?” Gordie’s therapist says.
“She’s under the table again,” I whisper, pacing up and down. “She’s having an episode.”
“Really?” Mrs. Raina sounds surprised. Looks like we’re both clueless here.
Last month, the therapist assured me that Gordie was in a good place and even suggested we space out her visits to once a month instead of once a week. But isthisher definition of “good”?
“Mom made an off-hand comment last night that I think is responsible for this,” I explain tersely.
“I see I have Gordie slated for today at five. I’ll speak to her then.”
“I’m just trying to understand what all the talking has done.” I massage the bridge of my nose. “Gordie crumbles at the mere mention of anyone leaving her. This isn’t healthy. My baby’s in anguish.”
