and drops onto his head. He sniffles, mumbles “nuh-uh,” and covers his head with a pillow.
My phone has been charged and hallefuckinglujah, it’s still December 30th. And there are a couple of texts from Maddie. One from last night, and one from this morning.
MADDIE: Good evening, sunshine. I got your messages earlier. Just wanted to let you know that. I’ve been thinking about you a lot, and I wanted you to know that too. There’s a lot that I want you to know. It’s not the kind of thing I want to say in a text, though. At least not when I’m sober. So if you still want me to come to Cleveland, let me know. I know you’re busy with your family, so I won’t get a ticket until I hear from you. I hope you ate something. I hope your heart still goes on. Mine does.
MADDIE: Morning, sunshine. I know you’re busy. I just wanted you to know that I’m still here. Still in New York, I mean. But I’m still here for you too. Which is probably the cheesiest thing I’ve ever said out loud, but there are a lot of cheesy things I want to say to you. Let me know if you want me to come say them in person. And don’t forget to hydrate.
Oh, Maddie Cooper. I will eat. I will hydrate. I will say all the cheesy things out loud to you, but not until I let you say whatever you need to say to me and listen closely and never forget a word.
There are a couple of missed call notifications from her too, but no voice mails. I call her back, but it goes straight to voice mail. I start to leave a message, but a shoe hits me in the head, and both of my cousins are suddenly awake and yelling at me to get ready to go like they’ve been waiting for me to wake up for hours. Assholes.
I text Maddie two words: Yes. Come. And then I get ready to go.
I wasn’t able to spend much time looking at myself in the mirror, but I feel like I look like that alien from the Sigourney Weaver movie. If anyone cuts me, my acid blood will burn through the floor. I don’t remember ever eating anything last night, but I also don’t want to eat or smell any food for a few more days. Or hear music or move or talk to people. Which is unfortunate because now we’re at the rehearsal dinner in a private dining room at a supper club by the river, and I am surrounded by food and music and talking people. Some of them are children. Loud children. The loudest children in the world. I know that I usually love all of these people a lot, but they all need to shut up and sit still and leave me alone so I can curl up under this table and cry while I wait to hear back from Maddie.
I stare at the empty chair at this table, pouting like a big fucking baby. I’ve called her six times, and it keeps going straight to voice mail. She hasn’t replied to any of my texts. She may well be mad at me for not getting back to her sooner. I have no idea. I saw the texts that I had sent her last night. I was a fucking idiot. I’m lucky she was even willing to come to Cleveland after she read that mess. I suppose I should be grateful to Nolan for taking my phone away from me when he did.
Granny and Grandad O’Sullivan are sitting next to me. Granny’s wearing one of those wrap dresses, and it reminds me of the one Maddie was wearing that night at the hotel in Youngstown. It’s wrong. It’s so wrong that I’m thinking about all the things Maddie and I did to each other that night while my granny is telling me about my grandad’s foot problems. At the same time that she’s talking, Grandad is telling me about the shenanigans at his bachelor party sixty-some years ago. Or rather, the stag night. Or rather, your basic night out for a bunch of Irish guys. He’s told me the story ten times, so I know exactly what to say, even though I’m picturing Maddie naked right now.
“Did you get to the church on time, Grandad?” I ask when he pauses to take a breath.