Page 40 of Before the Storm

A brilliant thing about putting distance between her body and chemo and radiation was that she felt brighter, kinder, fuller, and more present. The medication her doctors prescribed back in Manhattan had a hand in that, too—so much so that some afternoons, she didn’t even need to take a nap. This was beneficial. She wanted to be fully awake and alive in Seattle. She wanted to be fully conscious and reactive during their first conversation with their parents in twenty-plus years.

But she was really nervous after that phone call. What was wrong with their mother? They’d find out soon.

Tara interrupted Josie’s reverie and knocked on the bedroom door. “Do you want me to throw anything into the laundry real quick?” she called.

Josie cleared the distance and opened the door to find Tara in a soft white robe, her face without makeup, her eyes glinting with something like optimism. It was all because of that date with Johan, Josie was pretty sure. But she still hadn’t pressed Tara for details. They had a big trip in front of them. Maybe they could hash out what had happened on the date then.

“I think I have everything, thanks,” Josie said. “Flight’s at eleven.”

“I guess we should leave the house by seven o’clock,” Tara said.

“Perfect.”

Tara turned on a heel and disappeared into the kitchen.

Suddenly, a thought crept through Josie’s mind.What if I die on the trip?

Josie was suddenly sour with fear. She closed the door and sat on the edge of the bed, studying her hands. She most certainly did not want to die while they were traveling. This would only make a bigger mess for Tara. Josie had a plan and would share it with Tara when the time was right. She wanted to die here—in the beautiful seaside home they’d picked out for themselves and Winnie back in the early 2000s, when they’d had their whole lives in front of them. She wanted to die by the ocean, surrounded by memories.

It would be easy for Tara, Josie hoped.

Josie would slip away, listening to the sounds of the island rather than a Manhattan filled with blaring car horns. And Tara could call someone to come pick Josie up.

Planning a funeral will be easy for an event planner, Josie thought.But I hope she knows she doesn’t have to. I’ll write it in a note before I go: “Tara, do not plan my funeral! Rest!”

The following morning, I found Josie in the passenger side of the car a full ten minutes before Tara. Josie felt like a golden retriever anxiously awaiting his walk. Tara’s hair was still wet, and she had a little bit of lipstick smudged on her cheek. But she looked happy and a little frantic, which suited Josie’s mood, too.

“Let’s go!”

On the ferry to Hyannis, they grabbed some tea at the little coffee shop and watched the water. A little girl in a winter coat that went past her knees ran around and sang songs, annoying several ferry riders who wanted to sit with their coffees in peace. But Josie and Tara were pleased with the girl’s performance. Josie knew that Tara was thinking about Winnie because Josie was thinking about Winnie, too. She batted her eyelashes to keep from crying. Would they ever talk about what had happened?

When they got back in the car, a popular song from 2005 or 2006 played on the radio. Immediately, Tara burst into tears.

Josie touched her back, knowing and remembering what this song meant. It had been Winnie’s song of the summer. She’d danced all over the kitchen to it, making up her own lyrics and jumping on the sofa and pretending everything from her banana to her hairbrush to her Barbie dolls was a microphone.

The song, plus the little girl on the ferry, had sent Tara over.

Tara’s shoulders quaked. She whispered, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You can do this, Tara. You can. And it’s going to be so worth it.” But even as she said it, Josie wasn’t sure she believed herself.

Tara started the engine and drove them off the ferry and onto the highway. They didn’t speak for over a half hour, and neither of them braved the radio, as they were too frightened another song would sneak out and bring a torrent of painful memories.

At the Boston airport, Tara parked in the long-term lot and pulled both Tara’s and Josie’s suitcases behind her. Josie had a small backpack on her shoulders, and it was already making her back ache. Soon enough, they were able to get rid of their suitcases, go through security, and sit at another little coffee shop by the boarding gate.

“Should we bring a present for Mom and Dad? If we see them at all?” Tara asked, trying to make light of the situation. “Something to remind them of their East Coast past?”

“Maybe we could buy a lobster at the restaurant and put it in my backpack,” Josie joked.

Tara cackled and imitated holding a lobster by the tail. “Here you go, Mom and Dad! A peace offering!”

Josie wrinkled her nose, imagining their mother’s petrified face.

“It’s weird that we’re going out there without telling them, I guess,” Tara said. “We’re setting ourselves up for heartache.” She took a drink of her coffee and raised her chin as an enormous plane lifted into the sky. “I keep imagining us sitting in front of their house in the rental car, watching them like spies. Maybe we should get binoculars.”

Josie snorted. Just now, sitting here as the takeoff time got closer and closer, Josie was fully able to acknowledge the ridiculousness of their situation. She’d called their mother and panicked when something seemed to be wrong. But she still hadn’t shared this news with Tara.

There were forty minutes left till boarding.

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