Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(30)

I turn off the stove and the oven and set plates out at the table, along with the pans of food. Warren and Bridgette both magically appear as soon as dinner is ready. They’re like clockwork. They disappear when it’s time to clean or pay bills, but show up every time there’s food to be eaten. If they ever move out, they’re both going to starve.

Maybe I should move out. Let them have this apartment and see how fun it is having to pay bills on time. One of these days I will. I’ll move in with Sydney, but not yet. Not until I’ve met everyone in her family and not until she’s had the chance to live on her own for a while like she’s always wanted.

Sydney ends her phone call and sits down at the table next to me. I slide my phone to her and point to the voicemail. “Can you listen to that?”

She asked me earlier this afternoon to start signing everything I say to her, so I do. It’ll help her learn faster. I grab her plate as she listens to the voicemail, and I fill it with pasta. I throw a piece of garlic bread on it and set it in front of her, just as she pulls the phone away from her ear.

She stares at the screen for a second and then looks at Warren before looking at me. I’ve never seen this look on her face before. I’m not sure how to read it. She looks hesitant, worried, and somehow sick, and I don’t like it.

“What is it?”

She slides my phone back to me and grabs the glass of water I made for her. “Maggie,” she says, forcing my heart to a stop. She says something else, but she doesn’t sign it and I’m not able to read her lips. I swing my eyes to Warren and he signs what Sydney just said.

“It was the hospital. Maggie was admitted today.”

Everything sort of just stops. I say sort of because Bridgette is still making her plate of food, ignoring everything happening. I glance at Sydney again, and she’s taking a drink of her water, avoiding my gaze. I look at Warren, and he’s staring at me like I should know what to do.

I don’t know why he’s acting like it’s my choice to direct this scene. Maggie is his friend, too. I look at him expectantly and then say, “Call her.”

Sydney looks at me, and I’m looking at her, and I have no fucking idea how to handle this situation. I don’t want to seem too worried, but there’s no way I can find out Maggie is in the hospital and not be worried. But I’m equally concerned about how this is making Sydney feel. I sigh and reach for Sydney’s hand under the table while I wait for Warren to get in touch with Maggie. Sydney slides her fingers through mine, but then props her other arm on the table, covering her mouth with her hand. She turns her attention to Warren, just as he stands up and starts talking into the phone. I watch him and wait. Sydney watches him and waits. Bridgette scoops up a huge portion of pasta with her bread and takes a bite.

Sydney’s leg is bouncing up and down. My pulse is pounding even faster than her leg. Warren’s conversation is dragging, taking what feels like forever to finish. I don’t know what is being said, but in the middle of the conversation, Sydney winces and then pulls her hand from mine and excuses herself from the table. I get up to follow her, just as Warren ends the call.

Now I’m standing in the middle of the living room about to rush after Sydney, but Warren starts to sign. “She passed out at a doctor’s office today. They’re keeping her overnight.”

I blow out a breath of relief. The hospitalizations for her diabetes are the best-case scenarios. It’s when she contracts a virus or a cold that it usually ends up taking weeks for her to recover.

I can tell by the look on Warren’s face that he’s not finished speaking yet. There’s something he hasn’t said. Something he said to Maggie that upset Sydney enough for her to walk away. “What else?” I ask him.

“She was crying,” he says. “She sounded…scared. But she wouldn’t tell me more than that. I told her we’re on our way.”

Maggie wants us there.

Maggie never wants us there. She always feels like she’s inconveniencing us.

Something else must have happened.

I cover my mouth with my hand, my thoughts frozen.

I turn to walk toward my bedroom, but Sydney is standing in the doorway with her shoes on and her purse over her shoulder. She’s leaving.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m not leaving because I’m mad. I just need to process all this.” She waves her hand flippantly around the room, then drops it to her side. She doesn’t leave, though. She simply stands there, confused.

I walk over to her and take her face in my hands because I’m confused, too. She just squeezes her eyes shut when I press my forehead to hers. I don’t know how to handle this situation. I have so much to say to her, but texting isn’t fast enough, and I’m not sure I can speak everything I want to say or that everything I say would even be understandable to her. I pull away from her and grab her hand, then walk her back to the table.

I motion for Warren to help us communicate if we need him. Sydney sits in her chair, and I scoot mine to where I’m right in front of her. “Are you okay?”

She seems at a loss for how to answer that question. When she finally does, I can’t understand her, so Warren signs for me. “I’m trying, Ridge. I really am.”

Just seeing the pain when she speaks makes her my only focus. I can’t leave her like this. I look at Warren. “Can you go by yourself?”