Page 33 of Starry Tides
The following morning, Helena was cleared to go home. Dr. Marsh was square with her about what she needed to do to “keep herself healthy while the search for a liver continues.” He told her exactly what to eat, exactly what not to do, and exactly what to hope for. There was nothing in what he said that made Helena think that she wouldn’t get a liver transplant, which seemed insane. She’d never assumed that would happen. Was he living in a delusional world?
Before Helena left the hospital, she decided to visit Dr. Bethany Sutton and thank her for her kind words. Bethany had given her the number last night and told her to come by any time, as she’d be “very bored.” But when Helena reached Bethany’s room, the door was closed, and one of the nurses came by, pressed her finger to her lips, and told Helena that Bethany needed to rest. “She can’t slow down, so we’re trying to force her,” she said.
Helena was overwhelmed with sorrow for her new friend. “She shouldn’t have come to my room last night,” Helena mumbled, worried. What if Bethany lost her baby, all because she cared too much about the rest of the world?
Helena called a cab to take her back home. It was just as she’d left it before Elliott had called and ripped her out of herself, with her paintings and paints on the patio, a few dishes in the sink, and a glass of nonalcoholic champagne fully flat on the counter. She’d taken to finding ways to celebrate her minor and major painting successes in any way she could. Nonalcoholic champagne, strawberries, crepes, and squares of chocolate were her favorite modes.
Now, although it was only ten in the morning, she clunked off a square of chocolate from a larger package and sat on the patio in the sunshine, thinking about Matteo. What Bethany had said about letting Matteo make his own choices rang in her head. It was true that Matteo was an adult man with adult sensibilities. And he’d told her in his note that if she wanted to, they could remain friends. He just wanted to connect with her. Wasn’t that beautiful?
Before she knew what she was doing, Helena pulled up Matteo’s phone number and called him. She could hardly breathe. When he answered, “Hello?” she got to her feet, then felt a rush of dizziness that brought her back down again. For a moment, she forgot how she was supposed to answer.
“Hi,” she said. “It’s, um. It’s Helena.”
“Helena! It’s great to hear from you,” he said. His voice was tender and warm.
“Thank you for the flowers,” Helena said. “They were gorgeous.”
“I felt a little creepy leaving flowers on your dock like that,” Matteo said. “I’ve been overthinking it, to say the least. I mean, that’s the second time I trespassed on your property. I can’t make a habit of that.”
“You shouldn’t overthink it,” she said. “I loved them. It was very sweet.”
Matteo was quiet for a moment. Helena could hear the rush of the ocean on the other end of the line and wondered if he was somewhere on his boat. She could picture him, sturdy and strong, wielding the ropes and the sails. She wondered if she’d already called too late, then remembered there was nothing “too late” about the friendship she wanted to have.
“I was wondering if you wanted to get together,” she said.
“Very much,” Matteo said. “I’ll be in Nantucket tomorrow, actually. I’m sailing around but planning to tie up at the port tomorrow afternoon.”
“Beautiful,” she said.
“We could grab dinner?” Matteo suggested. “I’ll be starving after a long day at sea.”
Helena said she’d arrange for something and text him the details. When she hung up, her heart hammered in her chest, demanding if she was making a big mistake.
But how could all these beautiful emotions be mistakes?
Helena painted for a little while, then went inside to rest and recoup. While posting a few social media updates about her painting career, she accidentally saw a post from Meg that insinuated things between her and Elliott weren’t exactly peachy. Helena felt a strange sorrow and a kinship with Meg, but one she didn’t want to delve into. She blocked all posts for Meg and Elliott, reminding herself that sometimes in life, you had to create your own peace.
Helena reserveda table for two at a moderately swanky restaurant in the old historic district of Nantucket. It had been a long time since she’d dressed up to see a man. She considered this as she went through her limited closet, a closet that she’dmade to be utilitarian, as she’d been more or less a hermit for many years. With nothing to wear and no real makeup to work with, she decided to head to the historic district early to find something.
Before she left, she took some of the medication prescribed by Dr. Marsh, which was meant to keep her more stable through the day. “No more fainting spells,” Dr. Marsh had told her yesterday. “Or fewer fainting spells at the very least.”
It was more than Helena could hope for.
Helena researched online before her trip to find a place to park her Chevy. It was her first time visiting the historic district, but she knew it would be swarming with tourists and difficult to gauge. En route, she listened to the radio, singing songs that reminded her of being thirteen again, thirteen and in love with a boy named Elliott. How could she have known what kind of man Elliott would turn out to be? Life was a series of mistakes and consequences and rebounds. Life was beautiful and messy.
For a little while, Helena tried on dresses at a boutique not far from the restaurant. Although she was used to avoiding mirrors, she trained her eye on her reflection, shifting to-and-fro to see her tan legs, her long arms, her waist. It wasn’t possible that she’d gained any real weight, but she’d gained a bit of muscle, incredibly, and she wore it well.
At the makeup store, the woman behind the counter helped Helena pick out a blush and a lipstick that suited her coloring. Helena caught herself telling the woman she had a date tonight, although she knew better than to call it that. But the woman gushed with understanding and excitement for her. “You’re going to floor him with this blush,” she said. “Men don’t usually notice makeup. It’s more about the aura you project. It won’t look fake. It’ll just make you look…” Her eyes widened. “Healthy. Vibrant. Romantic!”
Helena couldn’t recall having looked that way for a very long time.
“I’ll take all of them,” she said, thinking of her bank account, of all the money she’d never be able to spend.
Helena was surprised to find that Matteo was already at the restaurant when she arrived. He stood, wearing a white button-down and a pair of slacks. His hair was styled and gelled. He looked so handsome, like an Italian movie star. Helena walked through the packed veranda to stand before him. Was it her imagination, or did he look nervous?
“You look incredible,” he said.
She forced herself to look him in the eye and say, “You do, too.”
