Page 61 of Even After This
“Hercules.” I make every effort to state this name like it’s normal. As if Bambi, Superman, and Princess Leia are also on my list.
He nods and maneuvers my contacts to find the name. His eyes grow into saucers, and his head shoots up. “Wait a minute. Is that really—”
“Hush,” I say entirely too loud.
“Sorry. It’s just ... is that really him? I’ve seen that awesome video of him saving that girl. I mean, it’s a cool pic of the two of you. If it’s really him.”
Yes,that’s really him, I want to say. That’s really him before he told me he wanted to kiss me. And it’s really him a few days before he was embracing his ex-wife. I glare at Cade.
“Right.” He returns his gaze to my phone.
A UPS guy sporting a fuzzy blond mustache approaches our area. Carrying a large box, he walks past us the exact moment the aforementioned toddler decides my side of the store is more interesting than his mama’s. A look of awe shines from the child’s cherubic face.
“Whoa there, little man.” The UPS guy shifts his hips and legs backward in a partial hopping action while the forward-moving box is lifted higher to accommodate the runaway.
Cade, clueless to the stray child, continues to stare at my phone.
I turn to smile at the boy but instead find calamity looming. He reaches his little arm up to a counter, stretching as far as he can to grasp a shiny new silvery laptop. One of his chubby hands finds purchase on the charger cord, and he pulls the computer just enough that it teeters on the edge.
The UPS guy lowers his box, momentum pressing him forward.
The runaway’s mom uses her stealth speed to slide in front of and past the man to save either the laptop or her son.
The delivery man, unprepared for the Olympic-worthy mommy move, loses his balance.
None of this would have mattered to me, except this incident causes the UPS guy to fall into Cade while Cade is pressing commands on my phone.
“Oh, shoot.” Cade regains his balance and his head pops up, eyes filled with terror, cheeks fire-engine red. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.” He shoves the iPhone in my face.
“Hercules” and “Calling Mobile” are splashed across the screen, accompanied by the selfie of Harlan and me at the Garden of the Gods.
No. Nononononono. Noooooooooooo. I’m aware of the computer crash behind me, but all I hear is my pounding heart.
“Did you just—” I slam my hand on my chest. “Did you justcallhim?”
Cade’s nod is so vigorous, his hair layers flop like the wings of an eagle.
“What do I do?” I stare at the screen. WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdo?
The ringing phone taunts my paralysis.
I bug out my eyes at Cade.
He shakes his head strenuously, his hair now resembling twirling helicopter blades. I half expect him to take flight. “You could hang up the phone.”
“But then he knows I called!”
If I hang up and don’t leave a message, what will that look like to him? Desperate? Aloof? Interested? Insecure? Presumptuous to not at least leave a message? Why can’t we live in a time when phones don’t document each and every call we make? My parents talk about what it was like to live pre–caller ID, and while it sounded lame to me growing up, it sounds like a pretty great setup right about now.
“This is Harlan, leave a message.”
I almost injure myself from whiplash when I snap my head down at the sound of the deep-toned voice coming from my phone.
I have six point two seconds to decide what to do while the automated voice lady explains how to end the call. If I hang up, he’ll still see that I called. I’m about to jump into shark-infested voicemail waters.
My shaky hands bring the iPhone up to my ear while I pray I don’t vomit all over Cade. Though it might serve him right. I hunker over the display next to us and place my free hand up to my head to brace for the ominous beep.
“Hey, uh, it’s me.” I clear my throat. “It’s Meredith. From the Broadmoor. I mean, there are probably a lot of Merediths who’ve been to the Broadmoor. I just mean it’s me. Meredith.” I cringe my eyes shut. “I didn’t mean to call you. I mean, it’s good to hear your voice. Or, uh, the six words you left on your outgoing message. Not that I called to hear your voice. I didn’t mean to call at all.”
