Soaring (Magdalene #2)(132)

But that she didn’t make Lawr happy.

Mom avoided Mariel like the plague.

“I haven’t heard from them for a while. I’ve been emailing but I get nothing,” I explained.

“Neither of them are big on email,” Lawr reminded me.

“I know but they also haven’t phoned or anything. Not in weeks, or, Lawr, maybe even months.”

“They disagreed with you moving across country, MeeMee. Maybe this is your penance. But I’ll talk to Mom when she’s up this weekend. See if I can find out where she’s at with that.”

I knew he’d get nowhere with that. If Mom didn’t feel like sharing, and with her silence she obviously didn’t, she wouldn’t share.

I still said, “I’d appreciate it.”

“Consider it done.”

I smiled and asked, “You going to be okay?”

“In the stages of grief, I’m past denial, anger and bargaining. I’ve hit depression. One more to go and I’m good,” he joked.

I didn’t laugh.

“I’m here, anytime you need me, Lawrie,” I told him.

“I know, sweetheart,” he replied.

“I’ve gotta get back to the residents. Jeopardy is after Wheel of Fortune and the staff try to stick close in case a fight breaks out.”

I was relieved to hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I’ll let you go.”

“Lawrie?”

“Hmm?”

“I love you lots and lots,” I whispered words I’d say to him when he was there for me when we were kids. Putting a Band-Aid on my arm or calamine lotion on my poison ivy or listening to me after a boyfriend broke up with me. In that house with zero love and affection, he was the best brother there could be.

“Love you lots and lots back, MeeMee.”

“See you soon.”

“You will. ’Bye, sweets.”

“’Bye, Lawrie.”

We disconnected and I stared unseeing out the windows of the fire doors at the back of the hall.

I wanted to invite Robin to Thanksgiving.

I knew it would be too soon, maybe for both of them.

So I couldn’t invite Robin to Thanksgiving.

That didn’t stop me from really, really wanting to.

Then, suddenly, I found my hand lifting and my finger sliding across the screen of my phone.

I put it to my ear and heard it ring twice before I got, “Hey, baby.”

“Hey back,” I greeted Mickey then blurted, “I wanna go away with you.”

“Uh…what?”

“Whenever, wherever for however long you want to go. I don’t care. I want you to know I want to go with you. I want to take Pop Tarts and squirtable cheese and crackers, and other food we don’t have to cook that we can eat with our fingers so we can stay in bed naked all day together. I want to go, whenever, wherever, and I want it to be just about you and me.”

There was a moment of silence before he replied gently, “I love that, Amy, I love that you gave that to me. But gotta ask what brought it on.”

“My brother’s marriage is disintegrating.”

“Shit, Amy,” he muttered.

“So you need to know I want that. Not this weekend. Or next. No pressure. Whenever we can do it. Whenever we can fit it in. Whenever we have a day or two or five where we can do that. I just need you to know I want that. I want that with you.”

“We’ll find our time, darlin’,” he told me.

“And,” I swallowed, gathering the courage to go on, “if this keeps growing, I don’t ever want you to forget no matter how many weeks or months or years pass, all you need to do is tell me to pack a bag and I’ll do it, happy to go away with you.”

“Love that too, Amy,” he said softly and he sounded like he did. He sounded like he loved that.

And I loved that sound.

I closed my eyes. “Okay.”

“You okay?”

I opened my eyes. “I hurt for my brother,” I told him. “But I’m fine.”

“Life sucks. But if he’s getting out of a bad situation, it’s his first step to finding some happy.”

“I hope so.”

“It’ll happen. Won’t know when it will happen. But mine moved in right across the street.”

I drew in a sharp breath.

Mickey kept talking like he didn’t just gift me with something precious.

“I got work, babe. Hate it when you’re hurtin’ for your brother, but I gotta go.”

“Okay, Mickey. I’ll let you go.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah. Later, honey. ’Bye.”

“’Bye, babe.”

We disconnected and I drew in another breath.

Mine moved in right across the street.

I let the breath out, smiling.

“Bonnie and Clyde!” I heard shouted in two voices.

Then I heard, “I said it first!”

“You did not!”

“Tell her, Ellen! I said it first!”

“I knew on the n. I didn’t even need the d!”

“Then you should have said it on the n!”

“Ladies—” I heard Mr. Dennison say calmingly.