JENNIE
Months later . . .
"Mom, you can't put the Royers by the Boccis, they hate each other. Ever since Mr. Bocci ran over Mrs. Royer's cat. How can you not remember this? Golden Graham got smushed under the front wheel of the Royers' new Mercedes. It was all Mrs. Bocci talked about all summer long, it's why we stopped inviting them to pool parties, because all she wanted to do was talk about her dead cat . . . Yes . . . Yes, summer before I went to college . . . Yes, it's gone on that long . . . Yep, you got it. Put them by the Schaefers, everyone likes them . . . Okay . . . talk to you tomorrow . . . Bye . . . Bye . . . Bye . . ."
I hung up the phone, rubbing my ear. It was hot. It should be. I'd been fielding calls from my mother for the last thirty minutes, after spending the last thirty hours with her in our home.
Our home, which had turned into Wedding Central. My mother had come in for a weekend blitz of wedding details, the likes of which I'd not been the least bit prepared for. My mother, Lisa, Jisoo, and I, along with Jillian and Rosé for certain portions, had been shuttling across the bay and back again for two days of cake sampling, menu tastings, flower designing, dress fittings, and big band listening. The listening had been my favorite part, actually. The rest? For. The. Birds.
How do people get married without losing their minds? Without losing their wallets? Without being convicted for assault by petticoat? I'd now been front and center for two weddings that I'd been directly involved with, first Jillian and then Jisoo. And I'd thought from the outside, even as involved as I'd been, I'd be prepared for the onslaught of decisions and complications and the sheer terror of putting a foot wrong on our important day.
I'd been blissfully ignorant. Not this time. I was full metal jacket in the middle of this tulle and lace torture extravaganza and it was going to drive me to the nuthouse. When my mother finally left to drive back home, leaving me in a house stacked with early wedding gifts, seating charts, and maps of the immediate areas surrounding both the church and the reception to help Jisoo predict the traffic patterns on our important day, I'd closed the front door with a cheery wave and collapsed right there in the entryway. Lisa found me there several minutes later when she handed me a cell phone.
"Your mother," she mouthed.
"I turned my phone off!" I mouthed back.
"That explains why she's calling my phone, then, doesn't it?"
"Shit!" I whispered, then took the phone from her. "Hi, Mom, what's up?" I said as she picked up my left ankle and dragged me into the living room. Luckily we'd just had the floor waxed and polished.
Once I hung up the phone, I looked up at her from where she'd left me, just next to the couch where she sat, looking exhausted and more than a little confused.
"She didn't even make it onto the freeway before she thought of more seating chart issues," I explained, handing her back her phone.
"I got that. How can it be so hard to put all these people in the same room? Hi. You're our loved ones. We'd like you to be here with us while we make things official and all that. You're our favorite people in the entire world. We're going to feed you roasted beef tenderloin with new baby potatoes dotted with a mushroom sauce made from mushrooms foraged in the hills above San Francisco. And you can't forget about a dead cat long enough to enjoy the Atlantic prawns served over a bed of sautéed arugula accented with a garlic foam?"
"We had to eighty-six the prawns, babe. Too many people have a shellfish allergy."
"But I loved the garlic foam!"
"I know, babe."
"This is getting out of hand." She sighed, covering her face. I crawled from the floor up onto her lap and pried her hands back.
"I hear that. Want to elope?"
"Tomorrow," she said, looking at me to see if I was serious. When I shook my head, she sighed again. "It's fine. It'll be good. Then I get you all to myself on a beach in Spain for three weeks."
"You're right about that. I'm so glad you were able to get that same house in Nerja. It's the perfect place for a honeymoon. And it's only a month away."
"A month. Only a month. Only a month," she repeated like a mantra. "I thought I'd get some time to pack this weekend for my trip, but taste testing cakes took precedence."
"They were really good cakes; don't tell me you didn't enjoy that part of it."
"They were good, but nothing's as good as what you make for me. If I had my way, we'd be having your apple pie instead of wedding cake," she said, her hands resting on my hips.
"That's sweet, babe. But the triple coconut with raspberry cream was pretty damn good."
"Agreed. Want to come help me pack?"
I said yes, and then hung off the back of the couch until she picked me up and carried me upstairs piggyback. She had her last trip before the wedding, a two-week shoot in Vietnam. I hated that I couldn't come along. National Geographic was sending her to do a study on the newly developed cave system in Son Doong, just opened for tours in the last two years or so, and the hottest ticket in Vietnamese tourism right now. There were entire sections that hadn't been photographed yet, underground rain forests and rivers that hadn't been seen by hardly anyone. Rappelling down rocky slippery cliffs, wading through dark rushing water, dodging bats and bugs the size of dinner plates—it was exactly the kind of thing Lisa loved. And she'd capture it on film in her unique way, taking viewers along with her to the deepest, darkest recesses under the earth.
"I still can't believe you can't put this trip off until after the wedding." I sighed, still perched on her back as she navigated the upstairs hallway.
"I think it's more that you can't believe you aren't coming with me," she replied.
"True, but mostly I just wish you were here to help me finish up this last little bit of planning."
"Babe, you've got Frick and Frack the planning twins competing to alphabetize your favors. I think you'll be okay," she said, grabbing her duffel bag from her closet and dropping it onto the bed. She dropped me onto the bed a moment later.
It was true, my mother and Jisoo were running things pretty well at this point. And as busy as I'd stayed at work, I was glad for the help. But still, there were last-minute things still to do and she was getting to skip out on some of them.
"Remember when we said this wedding would be about us, and what we wanted?" I asked, watching as T-shirts and shorts went into the bag.
"I think we waved bye-bye to that a few months ago, babe, when we had three separate discussions about Jordan almonds and what color netting they needed to be wrapped in."
"I know, I know. I don't even like almonds. But it's . . . I mean . . . it's still us, right?"
"Yes, it's still us. Us, and three hundred of our closest friends."
"Ugh. Three hundred. It sounds insane when I say it, but when I go through the list, I don't know who we'd cut out at this point," I cried, laying back against the pillows. The guest list had ballooned up and up until it was beyond ridiculous. Most of Lisa's old school pals and their wives were coming west for the wedding, which was wonderful to see. Her childhood neighbors, the Whites, were coming as well. She was very happy when she saw their RSVP.
"How many Jillian Design clients are on the list? How many of your parents' friends made the cut? There's tons of people on there that we don't know. Don't know well, let's say."
"Let's not have this discussion again, okay?" The guest list, the menu, the parking attendants, everything was just getting bigger and bigger. And the bigger it became, the more I could tell Lisa was putting on her game face, making it seem like she was okay with everything. But when it was just the two of us, and the planning committee had retired for the night, she admitted it was a bit overwhelming. But she was in for a penny, in for a pound, and insisted we keep everything as it was. But that didn't mean she didn't get a little disgruntled from time to time. We'd had several tense conversations over the last few months, mostly over the guest list. She didn't understand, not coming from a large family that all lived within an hour of where we now lived, why it was necessary to invite so many people.
Mostly, though, I think seeing how many guests were in her column, and how many were in my column was difficult to see. It was like a black-and-white reminder of who she'd lost. And who wouldn't be there. She was a trooper. She was my trooper.
And it was all happening in a month. And then we could begin to live our lives again, just for us. And our little kitty family. I changed the subject, asking her questions about her trip and getting the details on what she'd be doing. And as we talked, the tension eased. As her bag filled up and the cats began to circle, knowing that this was what happened before Dada went on a trip, we talked only of cameras and caves, and no more tulle and lace.
And when we went to bed that night, and she kissed me long and deep and told me she loved me and she'd miss my sweet ass while I was gone, I giggled and let her love on me as long as she could. Which was awhile, because this was my Banger we were talking about here.
Early the next morning, I drove her to the airport, kissed her good-bye, told her I wasn't wearing any panties, and then kissed her once more while she tried to push me back into the car to see if I was bluffing. I was not. Kissing her a final time, I told her I loved her and I'd see her in two weeks.
No one ever tells you to remember these moments. To photograph them in your mind, develop them into memories, to have them easily accessible and on instant recall when you'd need them later. To try and replay and re-create the last time you see someone.
It was 2 a.m. I was asleep on the couch under a cover of furry bodies. Food Network was on the television. I unstuck my face from the pillow . . . nice. Drool. Wait, why was I on the couch? And what was ringing? The phone. Oh, the phone! I scrambled to pick it up, seeing it was Lisa.
"Babe? You make it there?"
"Just landed in Hanoi," she said, yawning, but her voice had the sense of urgency she always has when she's on a trip. She loved her work. She loved the travel. There was a time when we first started living together that she wasn't traveling as much, and I thought she might be thinking about giving up this globe-trotting life. She still traveled, just not as much. But she loved it too much to ever give it up. And I loved her too much to ever ask her to. Besides, we were used to being apart. It's how we met, it's how we got together, it's how we fell in love. We made it work, because it was all we knew.
"How was the flight?"
"Last leg was brutal, but it's good to be here. Sun's shining, it's a thousand degrees, and there's a bowl of pho waiting for me as soon as I get off this phone."
"Well, don't let me keep you," I teased. "Thanks for checking in. When are you heading to the first location?"
"Tomorrow morning. I'm spending the day in the city, acclimating and working with the guys here who are taking me out with the tour. Then hopping on the night train tomorrow. Or tonight. I have no idea what time it is."
"Okay, babe, call me when you can." I knew she'd check in, but when Lisa was working she tended to lose all track of time. She certainly was the same way when she was working me . . .
"Will do. Love you."
"Love you too. Ella says she misses you."
"Aw, tell my pretty girl I miss her too."
"She only sleeps with me when you're out of town."
"She knows who's in charge."
"Hanging up on you, Banger."
"Hanging up on you first, Nightie—"
Hee-hee. I got there first. Dislodging four cats took some doing, but eventually I was on my feet and stretching before heading up to bed. My phone beeped, and I looked down at the screen. She'd sent me a picture of her noodles. Ass.
I worked hard that week, trying to stack up some work ahead of time before the big day. Yeji had transitioned from assistant to junior designer since coming on board last year, and she'd been instrumental in helping me, and the entire team, move seamlessly into the new arrangement we had with Jillian's new schedule. Yeji still worked closely with me on most of my accounts, but she was beginning to take on some small projects on her own, usually with me looking on in an advisory role. She'd been handling my clients while I was on wedding lockdown. Knowing she'd be keeping things up in the air and moving while I was gone was a huge help, but I still wanted to make sure I could get as much done as I could before our important day.
By the end of the week I was exhausted, but feeling like I'd gotten a little bit ahead. I had a meeting at four thirty with Jillian that I had a feeling would end in drinks afterward. I had that feeling because it was how we ended almost every single week when she was in town, so I felt pretty sure about that feeling. The fact that I was carrying a bottle of wine was also a tip-off. I was headed down to her office, arms full of binders and my always-present colored pencils, along with the wine, when I heard her raising her voice to someone on the phone.
"Oh my God, are you sure? What does that mean? Jesus, what am I supposed to tell her?"
I poked my head around the corner, not wanting to interrupt her but not wanting her to think I was eavesdropping either. "Should I come back?" I whispered. She looked at me, and when my eyes met hers the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Her eyes were wide, and panicked, and filling with tears. The room narrowed, my field of vision now only including her face and that phone. "What's going on?" I asked, my voice trembling. Because I knew, you see.
"Jennie, sweetie, it's Benjamin," she started, and my blood turned to an icy burn. It was only later that I realized I'd dropped everything I was carrying. Including the wine, which dropped squarely on my big toe. I had a bruise under the nail for months.
"What's going on?" I heard someone say, and the someone was me.
"I don't know, he just called and—"
"Give me the phone, Jillian," I said, crossing to her in an instant and grabbing the phone out of her hand. "Where is she? What's wrong?"
"I don't know anything yet, Jennie. I—"
"If you didn't know anything you wouldn't be calling Jillian, and she wouldn't be gray right now. What's happened to Lisa?" I asked, my voice now rising higher and higher. I sounded shrill, I sounded desperate. I sounded scared to death.
"I don't know much, one of the guys she was with called me. I'm listed as her emergency contact still with National Geographic I guess. There was an accident in one of the caves today. It's so hard to understand what happened; the guy doesn't exactly speak fluent English and the reception was so spotty and—"
"Goddammit, Benjamin, what happened?" I yelled, slamming my hand down on Jillian's desk.
"She fell. She was on some kind of bamboo scaffolding, and the wire she was attached to wasn't secure, and she fell. I don't know how far. Enough to maybe break some bones."
"Broken bones. Okay, maybe broken bones." I exhaled, clutching the desk now as my knees wobbled. "Okay, okay," I repeated.
"Not just that, Jennie, she was knocked out by the fall. There's been some kind of damage to her skull. They airlifted her to a hospital, but as far as I can tell she's still unconscious. I don't know much more than that. I've been trying to reach one of the doctors treating her but—"
"Yeji!" I yelled down the hall. "Get in here right now!"
"Jennie, what are you doing?" Jillian asked, and I held up a finger.
"Benjamin, I need to know where she is. What city, what hospital. I need a doctor's name. I need her fixer's name and contact information," I said to Benjamin, just as Yeji was running into the office.
"Jennie, good lord woman, a simple Yeji come on in here would have been—"
"Do you still have my passport information from when you helped me book our trip to Spain?" I asked, telling Benjamin to hold on.
"Yeah, yeah I should," she said, looking from me to Jillian. "What's going on?"
"I need you to book me on the first flight to Hanoi. Just give me an hour to get home and grab my passport. Text me the information when you have it."
"Wait, Hanoi? When? How much am I allowed to spend? Where do you want to connect through? How—"
"As soon as possible. I don't care. I don't care. Please do this now," I replied, now calm. "Benjamin, I'm leaving the office to go home and get my passport and then I'm heading for the airport. Jillian's going to drive me so I can make some calls on the way. Find out what you can and call me as soon as you know more, okay?"
"Okay, you got it. You sure you want to—"
"You're telling me that Lisa is unconscious somewhere in the world. What the hell would I be doing right now?" I asked, handing the phone back to Jillian and heading for the door. "I'll be ready to leave in two minutes. Yeji, get me on a plane."
Five hours later, I was on a plane over the Pacific. One seat left. First class. Do you have any idea how much a last-minute first-class ticket to Asia costs? Just start typing zeros, just line those fuckers up.
I sat in my pod, not watching a movie. Did you know in first class on those Asian flights you get your own damn pod? It's like a minisuite, but on a plane. When Lisa and I went to Vietnam awhile back, we flew business class. Sure, it was super nice, but it wasn't like this.
Yeji had to split it over five credit cards. I didn't care. I was on my way to Lisa. Benjamin had been able to get me some additional information before my flight took off. Still unconscious, she was being tested for what they called TBI, or traumatic brain injury. If there was swelling around the brain from a skull fracture, which Benjamin said they had not yet ruled out, she would likely need surgery to relieve the intercranial pressure.
Let me tell you what you should never do. Never go to WebMD and do a search for any of these terms. You will scare yourself silly. As it was, I was trying very hard to stay off the in-flight wi-fi doing exactly this. I kept checking my phone only for updates or emails from Benjamin, who still had nothing new to report.
So I sat in my pod and I thought. About my sweet Lisa. Benjamin had called the hospital and spoken with the staff, letting them know that while I was technically not listed as next of kin or even as an emergency contact (something that would be rectified as soon as possible), that I was her fiancée and should be allowed to see her when I arrived at the hospital. Benjamin had also been given power of attorney when it came to Lisa, something that had been established years before, when she was still at Stanford. My sweet Lisa, totally alone in the world for years except for Benjamin, as she globe-trotted this way and that, not a care in the world other than her beloved photography. With Benjamin back in San Francisco, managing her finances and her sole contact in case there ever was an emergency, she was truly untethered.
But not anymore. I was her tether. I was her contact. I was her in-case-of-emergency everything, or I should be. I loved her more than any person currently on this planet, and I was terrified that something was going to happen to her before I could get there.
I sat in my pod, high above the ocean, and as my brain kept burning and churning, the thought I kept bumping into was garlic foam. The garlic foam on giant prawns that she wanted served at our wedding, but she couldn't have them. Somewhere along the line, it was decided that our guests who might be allergic to shellfish were more important than what she wanted to eat at her own wedding.
What the fuck? How had this happened? Things become very clear when you're sitting in a pod over the ocean thinking about your sweet Lisa. And the fact was, I didn't give a flying fuck about any of that wedding nonsense. I just wanted to say the same words to this person that people had been saying for generations and generations. I wanted to stand up with this person and make sure she knew that she was mine and I was her for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live. And the rest? Bull to the shit.
You can't pace on an airplane for very long before you start making people nervous, so I sat in my pod and I didn't watch the movie but I did watch the movie that was playing on the inside of my eyelids. Lisa, the first time I saw her. Half naked, covered only in a sheet, standing on the other side of her front door, annoyed that I'd been banging on her door, but not so annoyed that she didn't check out my legs peeking out from beneath that pink nightie. Lisa, the first time I kissed her. Standing on Jillian's terrace under the moonlight with the waves crashing and the crickets cricketing and my hands full of her stupid awesome-smelling sweater and my lips full of her. Lisa, the first time she made love to me. In the most beautiful bed in the most beautiful bedroom in the most beautiful house in Spain, where she held herself above me, shaking with need as she moved inside of me. Lisa, the first time she fucked me. Surrounded by raisins and covered in flour as I rode her hard, and we welcomed back my long-lost but not forgotten orgasm.
Lisa, the day she asked me to buy our house with her. Sitting with me on her lap in the corner of our now bedroom, walls covered in hideous wallpaper as she poured her heart out all over the terrible carpet, asking me to make a home with her. Lisa, dancing with me to a big band at the opening of my first hotel I'd designed. Lisa, devouring my zucchini bread. Lisa, searching for hours in the rain for Luca. Lisa, sleeping in the corner of our bed snoring louder than anything legal.
Lisa, standing in the shower asking me to be her wife. Lisa was my world. And I was traveling around this one to get to her. In time.