Page 61 of Running Into You
Good God, Betty. My hair sticks out in every direction and the mascara and eyeliner I spent so much time on last night has been smudged above and below my eyes. I’m very aware that I didn’t brush my teeth last night. There is a metallic taste in my mouth and a build-up on my tongue that is almost fur-like.
I don’t see my phone anywhere in my living room, but I do spot my purse and realize that it’s been in there since I got to the restaurant. I rummage through the convincing Coach knock-off until I find it. Realizing I’d never turned it back on after I left the restaurant, I press the power button until I see the Apple logo appear. As I wait for my phone to come back to life, I walk to the bathroom and grab my toothbrush. I honestly don’t remember my mouth ever feeling so terrible. It’s as if some poor creature crawled in there as I slept and decided to take its own life.
I stare at my haggard reflection in the mirror as I brush. I’m definitely going to need to shower before I see Josh. All the words I need to say to him race through my mind like a giant, typo-filled, run-on sentence. On the vanity, my phone comes to life.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Is this what they mean when they say one’s phone is “blowing up”?
I have six missed calls, four unread texts, and a new voicemail.
What the hell happened?
I check the calls first. Two from Josh and four from Rilla. All from last night. I hit the voicemail icon and wait, not breathing.
“Betts, my dad had a heart attack. I know you can’t do anything, but I really need to hear your voice. Josh is on his way. Please call me when you get this.”
No, no, no, no. The toothbrush falls to the floor, and I race to the sink to spit and possibly be sick. Gripping the sink, I take a deep breath. When the panic has lessened, not passed, I grab my phone and sink to the cool bathroom floor to check my texts.
Rilla:Can you call me?
Rilla:He’s stable. I’m at the hospital with mom.
Rilla:Can you please let me know if you’re okay?
Shit. She’s worrying about me when her father’s in the hospital fighting for his life. I check the last message.
Josh:Hey. Dad’s stable. We’re waiting to talk to his doctor. Can you call Rilla when you get this? She’s worried about you.
A sob escapes my mouth before I can hold it in. I close my eyes tightly and clutch my phone to my chest. I’m squeezing it so hard, I might crack the screen. Every instinct in my body is telling me to fall apart. Let the panic come, give yourself to it.
I picture Rilla’s face, then Josh’s. I need to pull myself out of this because they need me. At least, I think they need me. I want them to need me. I take a few more deep breaths and select Rilla’s contact from my recent calls list. She picks up on the second ring.
“Betty? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine!” I answer, trying not to let every emotion show in my voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m okay. Dad’s doctor just left. Everything looks good. He’s going to have to take it easy for a while.”
“Is Josh okay? And your mom?”
“We’re all okay. Tired. Freaked out.” Her exhaustion is audible. “I wish you were here.”
“I’m on my way,” I say without a second thought. “I’ll be there this afternoon.”
“Really? Betts, you don’t have to.”
“Of course, I do.”
“But you don’t have a car. How are you getting here?”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll text you when I get there.” I stand with a newfound purpose and turn on the shower. “Will you be at the hospital or at home?”
