Page 76 of One-Star Romance

Long time no talk. I hope you’ve been staying safe and healthy in these trying times. On our end, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Gabby has gotten a scary health diagnosis. The doctors think it’s uterine cancer, and she will have to undergo major surgery in the next few weeks so they can go in and see just how bad the situation is. (Rob’s going to come help out with Christina since it turns out it’s especially difficult to do this when we’re still in the midst of a pandemic and can’t get reliable childcare.) Gabby has been in shock since finding out, or I’m sure she would have called you. Well, maybe that’s not true. She’s a stubborn woman, my lovely wife. But, pardon my French, I think it’s stupid (sorry!) that you two aren’t talking, especially now, so I wanted to let you know about this so you’d give her a call.

Best,

Angus

30

Rob had never babysat before. His part-time jobs as a teen had involved shelving dusty books in campus libraries or otherwise building his academic résumé. Somehow his teaching skills from the university did not translate particularly well to keeping three-year-olds entertained, as evidenced by the fact that Christina was currently running around the living room of Angus and Gabby’s house screaming.

But Rob was trying new things nowadays. He had started eating breakfast instead of just drinking two cups of coffee. Perhaps more importantly, he’d given Arizona his notice in the beginning of 2020, telling his bosses that he’d finish out the semester, but then he’d be leaving academia. He didn’t have another job lined up. How reckless, how unlike him. In his evenings, when he otherwise might have been watching a documentary with Zuri or working on new research to win himself tenure, he spent hours on job websites, trying to figure out what the rest of his life might look like, applying for positions whose descriptions gave his heart a little pulse of excitement. He imagined himself doing good at a nonprofit or teaching high school or, in a more fanciful moment, being a lumberjack. (He’d read a study that lumberjacks reported very high levels of job satisfaction.)

Of course the onset of the pandemic had thrown a wrench into everything. Rob had moved home to live with his parents then. Nothing made a person feel like they were succeeding at life like moving back into one’s childhood bedroom at age thirty-two. He was able to help his mother with his dad’s care, though, and that was important. Sometimes his father remembered that Rob had left academia and seemed to be okay with it. Other times, he’d ask how the tenure process was going, and Rob would have to remind him, then endure a lecture about how he was making a huge mistake. His father could still be as unforgiving as ever. But Rob was learning how to forgive him for it.

And over the summer, after rejection upon rejection, an offer had finally come through from a start-up working on increasing literacy in children. Turned out that Rob’s linguistics background was helpful. He’d never thought of himself as a start-up guy. (He’d been surrounded by them when he was doing his PhD in the Bay Area, and they wore too many hoodies for his taste.) But the job had given him enough disposable income to, with proper notice to his mother, move into a studio apartment in New York. More than that, it gave him a sense of purpose. Kids were falling behind in their reading now more than ever, and Rob was at least trying to do something about it.

Speaking of, maybe he could use this time to teach Christina how to read early. When this period of intense stress and uncertainty was over, when Gabby was healthy again, Rob would sit Christina down in front of her parents and hand her a chapter book, and she’d pull a Matilda, flawlessly intoning the words. And then Gabby and Angus would think, Well, this was an awful time in our lives, but look what good came out of it! We are the parents of a child reading prodigy!

So, as Christina ran in circles around the living room, Rob pulled Angus’s well-worn copy of Dune from the nearby bookshelf. “Excuse me, Christina?” he asked, opening the book up to the first page. She paused momentarily, looking at him. “Should we try to sound out some words?”

Slowly, as though Rob might be tricking her, Christina lumbered over. She took the book from his outstretched hand. “All right,” he began. “Now—”

“No, thank you!” she yelped in a bloodcurdling tone. She threw the book on the ground and jumped on it, then fell off-balance onto her bottom. She let out a wail, then pushed herself back to her feet and began to run around again. Her emotions passed as easily and clearly over her face as Angus’s did, but she had Gabby’s steely determination.

On second thought, perhaps it would be enough to keep Christina fed and alive. It would be enough for everyone to stay alive, more than enough.

Christina headed for the stairs. Gabby had given Rob a long lecture about how Christina still needed stair supervision, so he pushed himself after her, right as the doorbell rang.

“Christina, can you stop?”

“No!”

Rob groaned, then picked her up, and she squirmed against this unjust restriction on her freedom. As she pounded her fists on his back, Rob carried her to the front door and looked through the peephole. His heart suddenly skipping out a strange rhythm, he unlocked the door and swung it open to reveal Natalie on the front step, a rolling suitcase beside her.

“Hello,” he said, hesitant.

“Hi,” she croaked. She had driven across the country after isolating since they’d all agreed that the last thing Gabby needed right now was to get COVID on top of everything else. Nearly three thousand miles later, she was disheveled, her sweatpants and shirt rumpled, purple bags under her eyes, like she’d been sleeping in her car to be extra safe. Was that…yes, Cheeto dust on her chin. And still, Rob couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You have something there,” he said, pointing at the orange powder.

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What?” She swiped at her cheek, missing the dust completely.

“No, it’s…here.” He reached out and slowly brushed it from her chin, their eyes locked on each other’s, neither speaking. She did not breathe until he dropped his hand. Rob hadn’t previously realized that Cheeto dust could be erotic. He had spent the last year of his life trying to figure out what he actually wanted instead of what he’d been told to want. And right now, despite all the circumstances, despite how badly things had gone the last time they’d seen each other, his body hummed with a certainty that he wanted Natalie.

But Natalie pulled her gaze away and focused on Christina.

“Christina! Do you remember me?” Natalie held her arms out, and Rob handed a curious Christina over.

The toddler pulled at Natalie’s greasy hair as Natalie hugged her tight. Then she twisted her face away. “Yuck,” Christina said.

Natalie burst out laughing. “I think she can tell that I need a shower.” The laugh died quickly in her throat, as if she’d remembered her reason for being here all at once. And Rob remembered it too, with an extra rush of guilt over his erotic Cheeto dust thought.

“Yes, come in,” Rob said. “Gabby and Angus should be home from their appointment any minute.”

“Thank you.” Her voice had gone formal. Did she still blame him for his mistake with Tyler, still want nothing to do with him? Angus had told Rob that Gabby and Nat hadn’t spoken for nearly a year. All those wasted months that, now, could be some of the last that vibrant, busy, full-of-life Gabby would have.

The surgery itself was scary enough, carrying with it a not-insignificant risk of things going wrong on the operating table. Rob had done thorough research on the process and learned that the doctors had to do something called “debulking,” where they removed the parts of the body that had been affected. The whole thing just sounded so unnatural that Rob was surprised the body could withstand it. But the more worrisome part was what the doctors would find when they went in. Testing had been inconclusive. There was a cancerous mass, but no one knew how far it had spread. The doctors might be able to get most of it out and then pursue a course of treatment, and slowly but surely, Gabby would get better. But the scenario keeping Rob up at night was equally likely, if not more—the doctors might find the cancer everywhere, woven inextricably into Gabby’s organs, and then there would be nothing to do but wait.

“The last time we saw each other…” Rob began.

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