More Than Words(28)

“Gone,” Nina said. She still couldn’t say the word. Dead. The shape of it felt wrong in her mouth.

“Oh, darling,” Caro said. “We’ll be right over.”

When Nina hung up with them, Carlos came back into the room. “How are you doing in here?” he asked.

Nina nodded. She didn’t trust herself to talk about how she was feeling. She was worried that if she let herself cry again, it would take far too long to stop. When her mother died, it had felt like she’d cried for hours at a time, whole afternoons filled with tears, and she was unable to stanch the flow.

It was easier to talk about memories and poetry, speeches and ambitions. She wanted to call Rafael back. She felt it like an ache deep inside her. “TJ and Caro will be here soon,” she told Carlos. “TJ knows everything my dad wants.”

She looked over at her father again. His face was so relaxed. In real life it never looked like that.



* * *



? ? ?

Nina sat there, lost in a rubber band of time, until she heard a commotion in the apartment. A door opening and shutting. Footsteps on the gallery floor. “Nina!” It was Caro, walking through the apartment.

She came into the room, followed by TJ, whose eyes were already red and swollen.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” TJ said, as he embraced her.

In TJ’s arms, Nina finally let herself stop battling against her tears. “I don’t have any more family,” Nina said to TJ, the lump in her throat making it hard to talk, the sobs making it hard to catch her breath. It was the one thing that she couldn’t stop thinking about. Caro answered, taking Nina into her arms next, rubbing her back the way she did when Nina or Tim needed comforting as children.

“You have us,” she said. “You’ll always have us.”

Which was true, but it wasn’t the same. Not yet. Nina took a long, shuddering breath and pulled herself away from Caro. I am an adult, she said to herself. I can handle this. But even as she was telling herself that, she knew she couldn’t.

“Have you spoken to Tim yet?” TJ asked.

Nina shook her head, wiped her tears. “His phone went to voice mail,” she said.

“For us, too.” He pulled out his phone and dialed again.

Nina looked at her father once more, her breath still unsteady, her emotions threatening to breach their dam again. She walked over and kissed him on the cheek one last time, feeling his stubble against her lips, and looked at Caro through a screen of tears. “You can take care of him now,” she said. “With you both here . . . it’s too real. I can’t anymore.” She wanted to stay caught in that moment of time, stretch it even more so she wouldn’t have to deal with everything that came next. But time wasn’t like that. You couldn’t get lost in it forever. It marched onward, pulling you with it, a leash around your neck.

Nina left the room. She went into her bedroom, shut the door, and let herself cry into her pillow, muffling the animal sounds that came from somewhere deep in her heart. Or maybe it was her soul. That three quarters of an ounce that may or may not exist.





28



A while later there was a knock on Nina’s bedroom door. She bit her lip to stop the sobs and ended up taking long gulping breaths instead. “Aunt Caro?” she asked.

“It’s me,” Tim answered, his voice choked with apology, with sorrow, with love. “I got home late and forgot to charge my phone last night. It ran out of battery. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

Nina got off her bed and opened the door. Tim’s eyes were red-rimmed, his face pale. He bent down to hug her, then lifted her with him when he straightened, so she was clinging to his neck, her feet a few inches off the floor.

“I’m so sorry, Nina,” he said, as he leaned back over, so she was standing once more. “I’ll never forgive myself. Of all nights.”

“It’s okay,” she said, feeling the words against her sore throat. “I’m glad you’re here now.” And then she dissolved into tears again, and this time Tim cried with her.





29



With TJ and Caro there to take care of everything, Nina told Tim she wanted to go home. To her apartment. Where the ghost of her father wasn’t lurking around every corner. Where his shoes and medications and books and Thanksgiving turkey collection didn’t feel like they were taking up all the air.

“Will you come with me?” Nina asked.

“Of course,” Tim said. “I told the office I was going to be MIA for the next week. I’m here to help in whatever way I can.”

“Thanks,” Nina said. She laced her fingers through his. She wanted to never let him go.



* * *



? ? ?

When the elevator opened into her loft, Nina took a deep breath. Being here was better. Not great, but better.

“Did you eat yet today?” Tim asked Nina as he closed the door behind them.

Nina shook her head. “I’m not hungry,” she said.

“How about coffee?”

“How about we watch my dad’s favorite movie while I deal with your mom’s list?” she countered. Before they’d left, Caro had given Nina a list of the decisions that her father had left to her, and the phone numbers of the people who should hear from Nina directly before the press release went out.