Chapter 6
On the day Greta was supposed to get her cast off, I took half a day off to go with her to the hospital.
She looked surprised. "Aren't you busy? You don't have to..."
"Let's go," I said.
The hospital was packed, so I waited in line with Greta in her wheelchair.
She kept glancing back at me, her lips moving like she wanted to say something, but she kept stopping herself.
"Just say it," I said.
"Kieran, have you been doing better lately?" she asked.
"Better about what?" I replied.
"It's just you sound different today," she said, her hands resting on her knees, fingers twisting together. "You're not angry anymore?"
I looked down at her.
The harsh hospital lights washed over her face, making her skin look very smooth. There were bluish shadows under her eyes, clear signs she hadn't been sleeping well.
A year ago, I loved that face.
"Greta," I said.
"Yeah?" she replied.
"Do you think that if I'm not angry anymore, everything will just be over?" I asked.
Her fingers froze.
I kept pushing the wheelchair, my voice steady. "You handed the life jacket to someone else and kicked me. What do you think that costs? Just saying sorry? Crying a little?"
"That's not what I thought..." Greta said.
"We're here. Go on in," I said.
The cast came off quickly. The doctor glanced at Greta and said, "You're healing well. Just take it easy for another two weeks, and you'll be back on your feet."
As we left the hospital, she held onto my arm, walking slowly.
"Thanks for coming today," she said.
"Yeah," I replied.
"I'll cook tonight. What do you want to eat?" she asked.
"Whatever," I said.
As we reached the parking lot, her phone rang.
She glanced down at it and quickly declined the call.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"My mom," she said.
I gave a small smile.
I didn't say anything.
I remembered her mom's caller ID. It was Mom, with a red heart emoji.
But just now, there was nothing, just the number on the screen.
It was Louie's number. I've had it burned into my memory for a year.
I opened the car door for her, waited until she was settled, then walked around to the driver's side.
As I buckled my seatbelt, I said, "Greta, the company's annual party is this Saturday. You're coming as my plus one, so make sure you dress up a little."
She froze for a second, then broke into a real, genuine smile.
"Okay!" she said.
She thought I was trying to make peace.
But she had no idea there was someone else on the guest list for the annual party.
Our company just landed a new deal, and the person coming from the other side was Louie's boss, the department manager at his company.
This dinner wasn't really for her.
It was the last knot in the net.