Page 70 of Everything We Left Unsaid

She harrumphs and scowls into her plate of turkey bacon. “This is cruel and unusual punishment,” she remarks, picking up the slice of pan-fried meat and bringing it to her mouth. She wrinkles her nose in distaste before taking a bite and chewing. “I can’t leave the house. I can’t have real bacon. I’m like a prisoner.”

“You can leave the house,” I remind her with a roll of my eyes. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“It’s not the same,” she pouts. I sigh, counting down the minutes to my daily call with Jacob. He’s been texting me frequently throughout the day, and then calls or FaceTimes between dinner and bath time every night. Chloe loves seeing him on the screen and always tries to take the phone from me. I’ve had to wrestle it away from her a few times. Sometimes, I’ll call him back after Chloe goes to bed and he tells me how much he misses me and what he plans to do to me once we’re finally together again. A shiver runs through me at the thought of all his lascivious promises and naughty ideas. It’s the closest thing to phone sex I’ve ever had.

“Are you alright? You’re not getting sick, are you?” My grandmother’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“No, I’m fine, just a little tired.” It’s no lie. I’ve stayed up late several nights this week, unwilling to give up my phone calls with Jacob.

“Stayed up too late talking on the phone again last night, eh?” my grandmother teases. Shit. She knows.

“How do you know about that?”

“The walls are thin, and I get up several times a night to pee,” she replies with a shrug. “Damn water pills,” she adds, grumbling under her breath.

I decide now’s as good a time as any to bring up Jacob’s visit and our plans to stay somewhere overnight. “Jacob’s coming in this weekend, and since there’s not much room here, he plans on renting a place to stay.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she responds absently, chewing on the imposter bacon.

Here goes nothing. “Do you feel well enough for us to leave you? Jacob and I were hoping to spend the weekend together,” I convey, emphasizing that last part.

She stops chewing and places the half-eaten slice back onto her plate, giving me a flat look. Oh, shit. “I do not need you hovering over me all the time just because I had a little heart attack,” she replies dryly. A little heart attack? “I’ll be just fine spending a few days alone,” she proclaims, clearly exasperated with my hovering. “Actually, it will be refreshing.” Did my grandmother just smirk?

“Well,” I begin, a little churlish, “okay then. I guess that settles it.”

“Yes, I guess it does.” Her features soften and she takes my hands in hers. “Go, Abigail,” she encourages. “Spend some time with that man. Let him see his daughter.” I return her smile gratefully. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine.”

“But the last time I left you, you almost died.” Tears well in my eyes and my chest aches at the memory. We almost lost her.

“Abigail,” she says on a sigh. “I don’t want to admit this, not to you or myself, but I ignored the signs.” Her confession startles me and I gasp, my eyes widening in disbelief. “I knew something was wrong, but I kept thinking I could get through it. Looking back, I know I should have gotten checked out days before, but I had too much to do and damn it, I didn’t want to miss Bingo,” she adds, injecting a little humor into the tense moment. It works. I huff out a laugh, knowing how much she loves her Bingo.

“The point is, I didn’t have a heart attack because you left me. I had a heart attack because I was too stubborn to admit I felt like crap.” She swipes the tears from my face with her wrinkled hands and cups my cheek. “I’m going to be just fine while you’re gone,” she assures me. “And if anything happens, I’ll press my Life Alert button so some sexy firemen will come to my rescue.”

She winks and I laugh through my tears. That’s one of the things I love most about her. She can find humor in anything. “Are you sure?” I ask, needing confirmation that she’ll be alright without me.

“Positive,” she assures me with a comforting smile and a squeeze of my hand.

“We won’t go far. I’ll make sure of it,” I pledge to her. “And if anything happens – anything at all – you call me, and we’ll come right back.”

“Stop worrying,” she chides. “Everything will be just fine.”

I skate through the remainder of the week in blissful anticipation. The prospect of seeing Jacob again and falling asleep in his arms has me twirling in the kitchen like a Disney princess as I wait for my eggs to boil.

My elated bubble bursts when I receive a text from Jacob late Thursday morning as I sit down with my lunch.

Jacob:Something’s come up at work. I can’t leave today. I’m so sorry. I won’t be able to drive in tonight.

Doubt, my constant companion from the past, starts to rise through my subconscious, breaking through the surface like a submarine at sea. My shoulders slump in disappointment. He’s not coming. I push that thought away, burying it in the farthest depths of my mind. No more doubts. I told myself I would trust him and stop thinking of him as the person I’d believed him to be for the past two years. He’s proven himself, and I have to believe he’ll come through for me, for us.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts before tapping out a response.

Me:I hope it’s nothing serious.

I try to convey my concern for his situation instead of my vexation at his delay.

Me:Will you still be able to make it this weekend?

I chew on the side of my thumb, awaiting his response.

---