Love Love (34 page)

My
eyes open to a new day. Life. The life where there are no
guarantees. The life where every moment counts, because you never
know when there will be no more moments. My only hope is that I
haven’t destroyed my chances with Brad. I think about him every
minute. All the times he made me smile. All the times he made me
laugh. All the times he held my hand. All the times he held my
heart. I haven’t been the same since I walked out on him sixteen
days ago. Sixteen days, yet it feels like a lifetime. I can’t get
him out of my mind or my heart.

I grab my phone and dial Brad’s
number. It’s ringing and my hands are shaking.

“
Gabby?” Brad answers,
surprised. The sound of his voice nearly makes me
crumble.

“
Hi,” I say in a small
voice. “Thank you for the beautiful flowers, and the coffee, and
the letter.”

I hear him breathe deeply. “Do you
have any fucking idea how much I miss you? I can’t see straight.
Please tell me you’ve changed your mind.”

My voice raises an octave. “I’ve
changed my mind.”

“
Seriously?” I hear the
nervous excitement in his voice.

“
Seriously. The cape
clinched it,” I say, with a huge smile he can’t see. “Can you meet
me somewhere tonight?”

The excitement in Brad’s voice is
palpable. “Anywhere, baby.”

“
Top of the Rock, say seven
o’clock?”

He doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there.
And Gabby?”

“
Yeah?”

“
I’m so glad you
called.”

I hear his happiness, and I can feel
it too. “Me, too.”

I hang up the phone and walk over to
my dresser. Standing in front of the drawer, I pause and take a
deep breath. I reach out and pull the handle with trembling hands.
Lifting up the pictures, my fingers dig further until I feel it. I
pull out the burgundy velvet box and just stare at it before my
fingers shakily open the lid. It still shines just as brilliantly
as when Clark first put it on my finger. Holding it close to my
heart, I go to my closet and stand on my tippy toes to pull my
keepsake box off the top shelf. I place it on the bed and sit down,
open the shiny gold latch, and run my fingers over my butterfly
shirt, my day of the week undies, but most especially the pictures
of Clark and me. My favorite picture of us is here, the one at the
beach during sunset. I hug it close to my chest for several
minutes, right against my heart, then let out a sigh before I put
it back in its special place. The velvet of the ring box makes its
way to my cheek, and I hold it there as tears fill my eyes. “I love
you, Clark. I always will,” I whisper. I place it inside the
keepsake box, tuck it away in my closet, and walk away,
smiling.

I may as well have called in sick
today. Thank goodness it’s Friday and Robby has left an alarmingly
small number of sticky notes. But I can’t think of anything except
Brad all day. I’m going to tell him that I love him and we can
finally be together. I can’t wait to see him and wrap my arms
around him. I’m never letting him go, ever.

Most of my day is spent flicking a
pencil against my desk and watching the clock tick slowly by. I
manage to answer twelve of twenty five voicemails and make a couple
of baskets with Robby’s completed sticky notes, which helps pass
the time, too. My heart is vibrating loudly and my stomach is doing
belly flops. I love Brad and I can’t wait to tell him. I smile at
the fragrant garden my cubicle has become. This is it.

At 6:30, I clean up my desk, gather up
my jacket, grab my purse and the single red rose I bought for Brad,
and make my way over to Rockefeller Center. Even the supreme
nastiness of the subway doesn’t bother me tonight, nor the fact
that my foot has been stepped on twice, nor that I just sat on a
piece of gum.

Clark’s words suddenly come
back to me…
let yourself feel, let yourself
love, be happy.

I will, Clark; I promise.

I don’t see Brad when I get there, so
I take a minute to try and compose myself. The delicate petals of
the rose are shaking, but steadying my hands is an impossible task.
My heart is racing. I can’t wait to see Brad. Taking a deep breath
of the night air to settle my nerves, I marvel again at how
magnificent the city looks from up here, my mind drifting back to
the perfection of our first date.

Looking down at my watch, I notice
it’s 7:15. It’s not like him to be late. My feet are pacing the
platform, rose petals blowing in the cool breeze. Tick tock.
Another few minutes go by and I pull out my phone. Brad’s phone
rings and rings, then finally goes into voicemail. Texting him
doesn’t elicit a response either. What the hell? Has he changed his
mind? No, he hasn’t. I trust him. I trust the way he feels about
me.

Another half hour goes by. I’m cold,
and it’s not from the temperature. Four voicemails and four texts
with no response. Something’s wrong. My body feels prickly, and not
in a good way. Worry is beginning to consume me. I can’t stay here.
Willing my legs to move, I head for the subway and make my way to
The Brew House, only to find the “Closed” sign on the door. Damnit,
where are you Brad? I continue to call him, but he doesn’t answer,
and tears are threatening. I run to the subway. My feet are having
a hard time catching up to my mind. I need to get home. I need
Fran.

Tears are crashing down my face and I
push open the door with more force than I’d intended. Fran sees the
look in my eyes. “What is it, Gabby? What’s wrong?!”

“
I called Brad and told him
I wanted to see him. But he didn’t show up.”

“
What do you mean? Why
didn’t he show up?”

My breathing is erratic. “I
don’t…know. We were…supposed to meet…and…I…can’t reach him.
Something’s wrong, Fran, I just know it. I’ve called…him…several
times and sent him texts, but he hasn’t responded. I don’t…know…who
to call.”

“
You need to try and calm
down, sweetie. Maybe he had to stay at the shop a bit
longer.”

I’m screaming now. “No, Fran! I went
by there! He isn’t there! He would have called me!” Falling to my
knees, my cheeks course with salty tears as soft whimpers leave my
mouth. “I’ve finally found the person I’m meant to be with and I
can’t freaking find him.” I’ve got a sinking feeling in the pit of
my stomach. Fran runs over and folds her arms around me. I let go,
sobs pouring out from every crevice of my body.

Fran calls the police. Apparently you
can’t file a missing person’s report for twenty-four hours. That’s
such bullshit.

The last time I looked at
the clock it was 6:00am. Somewhere between sobbing uncontrollably
and waiting, we fall asleep. When I open my eyes, Fran is hunched
up beside me. My eyes are sore and I can barely see through the
slits. Squinting, I peer over at the digital clock and think it
reads 3:00pm. Oh my God, we slept the whole day. Recognition of
last night washes over me and I frantically grab my phone off the
coffee table. Dialing Brad’s number, I’m silently willing him to
answer.
Please pick up, please pick up,
please pick up
. The moment I hear his
voicemail, I fall apart. Slumping down to the soiled carpet, my
face dampens from a fresh batch of tears. I recognize this feeling.
Something’s happened to him. Deep down I know it’s true, even
though I’m praying like hell it’s not.

My phone buzzes and with shaky hands I
knock it over. I nab it quickly, and when I see it’s Brad, relief
envelopes my whole body.

“
Gabby?” The voice doesn’t
belong to Brad.

“
Who is this?”

“
Gabby, this is Brad’s
brother, Matt.” No, please no.

“
Where’s Brad. Is he
okay?”

“
Something’s happened,
Gabby.”

I fall to the ground, and my next
words are but a whisper. “Is he alive?”

“
Yes, but he’s pretty badly
hurt.”

“
Where is he?”

“
He’s at New York
Presbyterian. He’s in the Intensive Care Unit.”

“
I’ll be right there.” I
hang up and drop to my knees. It’s happening all over again. I have
to get to him. Tears are streaming down my cheeks and they won’t
stop. Silently, I offer up healing prayers.
Please be okay, Brad. Please be okay. You have to be
okay
. I love you.

Pushing on Fran’s shoulder, I jolt her
awake. “Fran, it’s Brad.”

Only tears break the
silence.

Fran and I run through the hospital
doors like freaking lunatics. Out of breath, I try and get the
words out to one of the three people sitting behind the desk.
“Where…is…the Intensive Care Unit?”

A nurse with soft hazel eyes and a
sweet wrinkled face replies, “it’s on the third floor,
dear.”

“
Thank you.” Fran leads me
by the hand to the elevators. She says nothing, but continues to
hold my hand.

The elevator pings open and we see the
sign pointing to the Intensive Care Unit. Sprinting down the hall,
we finally make it to the nurse’s station. “I’m looking for Brad
Dixon.”

“
He’s unconscious, and
we’re letting in very few visitors at this point. Are you
family?”

I’m about to say something, when a
deep voice calls out. “That’s his wife.”

Fran and I whip our heads around to
the sound. Matt. It couldn’t be more obvious. Except for darker
hair and a slight variation in height, they’re identical. Matt
doesn’t hesitate. He pulls me into a hug and my tears start
anew.

Once I’m calm, I look over at Fran.
“Matt, this is my best friend, Fran. Fran this is Brad’s brother,
Matt.”

Fran can’t help herself. She does her
once over before she speaks. “Nice to meet you, Matt.”

Matt gives Fran a second look. It’s
hard not to. “You, too,” he says.

Fran looks over at me with kind eyes.
“I’ll be in the waiting room if you need me, sweetie,
okay?”

“
Thanks, Fran.”

Matt leads me through the
glass double doors. The moment I see Brad, my legs give out. His
eyes are closed and he’s laying on the bed with a bandage wrapped
around his head. There are all sorts of tubes protruding from his
body. His face is swollen and bruises cover his shoulders and arms.
I can’t move.
Brad
. My whole body feels cold, and an ill feeling washes over me
as I look at him, helpless and bruised. Teardrops hit the floor and
I feel like I can hear them.

Matt raises me off the floor and helps
me to a chair. My body is shaking. “I’m so sorry to have to meet
you under these circumstances, Gabby.”

I’m gasping for a breath. “Is he going
to be okay? Tell me what happened.”

“
I got a call around 9 last
night, your time. Apparently, after Brad closed the shop, he was
jumped from behind. They took his wallet and beat him up pretty
badly. He has some bleeding to his brain, which is why he’s
unconscious.”

Jesus. This is all my fault. If I
hadn’t called him to meet me, this would never have happened. “But
he’s going to wake up, right?” I ask with a jittery
voice.

“
Gabby, the doctors can’t
say for sure. He was hit pretty hard on the head several times with
some sort of blunt instrument.” Matt chokes up a little at that and
I can’t help but feel sorry for the guy. His mom, his sister, and
now his brother?