Page 110 of Finding Jack
Tate was okay.
For right now, he was okay, and it sounded like he had a chance to get better.
I finished my French toast, cleaned my plate, and laced up my running shoes.
“Want company?” Sean asked as I tightened my laces.
“Maybe tomorrow?” I had something I needed to do today, and I needed to be alone for it.
“Sure.” He went back to his French toast, Shep panting at him for a bite of his own.
I caught the streetcar over to Golden Gate Park but instead of heading for the running trail I liked, I found a quiet spot in the Shakespeare Garden.
I chose an empty bench and pulled my phone from my armband, studying the blank screen like it could tell me what to say instead of vice versa. I’d run over the words a thousand times in my mind, changing the inflection, the order, the verbs. But I couldn’t ever get it exactly right.
That was the thing about perfection. It didn’t exist. No way I could say this in a way that would fix everything. Or even anything. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have to say at least something.
I took a deep breath and opened the messaging app. I pulled up Jack’s name and pressed “Record.”
“Hi. Long time, no talk. I’m in a place called the Shakespeare Garden.” I flipped the camera so he could see it. “It reminded me of our date walking through Hyde Park.” I switched the view again and sighed. “I needed a peaceful place. It shouldn’t surprise me that I chose one connected to you.” I tried to say the next part I planned, but a lump formed in my throat, and I knew I wouldn’t get the words out, so I ended the recording. I sat and took more deep breaths and looked for the courage to try again.
It took several minutes before the pressure of unshed tears eased behind my eyes, and I felt like I could try again. I started the next video message with a smile that was shakier than I wanted it to be, but I was proud I’d managed one, however small.
“I told you I started volunteering at the hospital a month ago. The patients and staff are amazing. Um, but this kid I was working with…I thought he had died.” My voice trembled, and I paused a second to pull myself together. “It was hard. I don’t even have words for how hard, and I barely knew him. I just found out that I was wrong. I have never, ever been so happy about being wrong. He’s gone to Cincinnati for a new clinical trial. But for those couple of days when I thought…”
I stopped the recording, fighting to reorder my thoughts in a way that would make sense to Jack. I pressed record one last time. “I wanted to say I’m sorry again. I’m so sorry. You weren’t running away. You weren’t hiding. You were so strong to work there for as long as you did. I don’t know how you did it. And I’m so sorry for what I said. If this is how it feels when it works out for a kid I barely know, I can’t imagine what it was like when it didn’t work out for a kid like Clara. I’d love to talk to you. Really talk. I get it if you don’t, but if you do, call me?”
I ended the recording and sent it before I could talk myself out of it. I couldn’t have said it any worse, but I also didn’t know how to say it any better.
It wasn’t hard to ignore my phone the rest of the day. I knew he wouldn’t call. I wouldn’t have.
I went out with Ranée and some girlfriends for dinner, and even though I laughed and joined the conversation, Ranée kept shooting me concerned looks, like she knew exactly how big of a show I was putting on. I tried to keep a cheerful face on. I even agreed to go with them to a nearby pub to listen to some live music, but she kept sending me those worried looks.
Sometime after midnight, she picked up her phone, wrinkled her forehead, and showed it to me.
This is Jack. Sorry to bug you but I can’t get hold of Emily. Could you ask her to check her phone?
I fumbled my cell from my handbag so fast that it shot out of my hands, and I had to retrieve it from between Ranée’s feet on the sticky pub floor. I unlocked, cursing when I realized I had no reception bars but six different notifications from text, voicemail, and FaceTime. All of them were from Jack. I checked the text first.
Call me.
“Ranée, it’s—” I started to shout over the music.
“Go.”
I excused myself from the table and stepped outside to the street to make the call, hesitating before I dialed. The text had come in two hours ago. Maybe it was too late tonight? But the city was full of quiet noise, the soft hum of passing cars and the chatter of people on the sidewalk. Maybe Jack would be awake too. I dialed his number.
It rang twice before he answered it simply, “Em?”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
I savored the warm sound of his voice. It was better than the drink Ranée had forced on me when we got to the pub.
“You wanted to talk?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I looked around me at the bustle of my city corner, but I didn’t want to wait until I got home where it was quiet. “I’ve been thinking. I was so wrong about so much when I was up there.”
