“You’re right.”
The blazing anger in her eyes softened just slightly.
“Go to the hospital. I’ll stay here with Grace.”
She nodded, her anger replaced with concern over seeing Cohen. “You’ll be okay to get Grace off to school?”
“Just go.”
Her eyes searched mine for understanding. This was a woman who’d been through her fair share of heartbreak, and she seemed to understand that sometimes even the best of us f**k up. At least I hoped that was what she was thinking. Her words had been harsh, but worst of all, they were true.
Denise nodded again and grabbed her purse from the table before disappearing out the door.
I curled into a ball on their couch and cried myself to sleep.
Chapter 19
A few hours later I got Grace off to school, assuring her that everything was fine, even though I hadn’t heard a peep from Denise. I swung by Cohen’s to let Bob out and feed him, and then headed to my place to shower and change. I got back to the hospital around ten and was determined to see Cohen today, despite the hospital’s strict family-only visiting policy. I cursed myself for not exchanging cell phone numbers with Denise. I called the only other person I could think of—my landlord, since he’d informed me of Cohen’s accident in the first place, and thankfully he knew Cohen’s hospital room number.
I found his room on the sixth floor, and lingered outside. I could see his mother through the small glass windowpane in the door and Cohen’s sleeping form in the hospital bed, institutional-grade white sheet tucked in around him. He looked pale and had plastic IV tubes connected to the back of his hand, but otherwise okay. My knees knocked together, and I braced myself against the wall. He was okay. He was going to be all right.
The door opened a second later and Denise stood before me, frowning.
“How is he?”
She closed his door before addressing me so as not to disturb his sleep. “He’ll recover. He shattered his shoulder falling through the floor and has a concussion and some bruised ribs, but otherwise, he’ll be all right.”
“Can I see him?”
She released a long slow sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
I waited for her to continue, to tell me that I should come back when he was awake… something, anything, but she just stood there stoically.
“I know you two had sort of a falling out, and I’m not sure he’d want you to see him like this. Thank you for taking care of Grace. And Boo Boo. I’ve got it covered from here.” She disappeared back into his hospital room before I could formulate a response.
I bit down on my lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from myself from crying, but it did little good. Tears of frustration silently streamed down my cheeks.
I heard Cohen’s muffled voice croak from inside the room. “Who was that?”
“It was nobody, dear. Nobody at all,” Denise answered matter-of-factly.
And she was right. I had walked away from him because I was too afraid to admit what I was feeling. What was I feeling for him? Did I love him? If I couldn’t even voice it in my own head, surely he didn’t deserve to be strung along, and I escaped down the hall before I could mess anything up further.
Despite my lack of sleep and ragged condition after leaving the hospital, I drove straight through to my mother’s house in Iowa. Though I hadn’t been there more than twice in the past five years, I easily navigated I-90, avoiding the toll roads like I’d been doing it all the time.
During the first few hours of the drive, I argued with myself nonstop and nearly turned around half a dozen times, at one point even pulling into a rest stop to contemplate the decision. I refused to let Denise drive me away. More than anything, I wanted to be there for Cohen. But as the hours wore on, I came to believe that the right thing to do was to leave him be. He deserved more than what I had to offer. And once I explained it to myself that way—that I wasn’t staying away because Denise had the power to push me around, but instead, because it was the best thing for Cohen—I instantly felt a little bit better and continued along to my Mom’s house, knowing I would need to escape to the solace of home. Returning to my own home would bring too many reminders of Cohen.
I arrived at her home without even an overnight bag and was in her arms, crying like a baby, before I even stepped inside the house.
The visit with my mother was exactly what I needed. I’d never grieved Paul’s death properly, and I spent the week in Iowa doing just that. I slept in each day like I’d been sleep deprived for years. I visited his grave for the first time and placed flowers on it. I overindulged on my mother’s cooking and talked to her—actually opening up—about losing my fiancé, and my ability to have children. It was hard, but by the end of the week I felt stronger. And not just as the invented Liz I’d once used to cope, I was stronger as Eliza. Me. And it felt good.
I also realized that I missed Cohen. I missed eating our meals together, sleeping in his bed, even playing those damn video games I was so bad at. Cohen always saw through my act. He’d called me by my full name from the beginning, even when I kept insisting he call me Liz. It was like he’d somehow known the true me was inside the entire time.
***
When I rolled to a stop on the street in front of my townhouse, I thought I’d have more time to prepare before facing Cohen, to figure the right words to say, but there he stood with Bob on the sidewalk, his arm secured to his side in a sling, watching me get out of the car.