I typed:
Me:Hey. I know it’s late there. I’m sorry. Carmen’s dad passed. She won’t talk to me. She’s not eating or sleeping.
I stared at the screen. Then added:
Me:I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t serious. She’s… not okay.
The message sent, and I sat back, phone resting on my thigh.
The screen lit up with a typing bubble. Then a reply:
Izzy:Give me two seconds. I’m calling.
I moved quickly, pressing answer before the first ring finished.
“Izzy—”
“Put me on speaker,” she commanded. I could hear the rustling of fabric and Darius whimpering softly in the background.
I set the phone near Carmen again.
“Carm,” Izzy said gently. “It’s me, baby. I just heard. I’m so, so sorry.”
The softest breath escaped Carmen’s lips. Barely noticeable—but it was something.
“I’m holding Darius right now. He’s got the hiccups, and he won’t sleep unless I hum that stupid song you taught him. You remember the one? The one you made up about peanut butter sandwiches?”
Her brows drew together. Another breath.
I leaned in, holding mine.
Izzy kept going. “He’s already got your attitude, by the way. And he’s got a big old temper like you, too.”
The silence stretched again. “He wants to say hi. Go on. Tell your TiTi hi.” Izzy pushed.
The cutest little Hello came through the phone, and Carmen’s lip trembled. Her eyes, still glossy and red, shifted toward the phone.
Izzy’s voice softened. “I know it hurts. I know you probably feel like you’re floating outside your body right now. But you’re not alone. You’ve got me, and you’ve got Theo, who I’m sure is pacing and brooding and making that dramatic worried face he does.”
I cracked a tiny smile despite everything.
Izzy whispered, “Talk to him, Carm. Or me. Or Jayda. Or just breathe. That’s enough for tonight, okay?”
I looked at her, waiting.
Her lips parted.
Then—finally—a whisper, “Izzy…”
Her voice cracked, but it was there.
I reached for her hand again, and this time, she held on. Weakly.
Izzy exhaled on the line, thick with relief. “Hey, sunshine.”
Carmen didn’t say anything more, but the tears started to fall again. Not silent this time—shaky, trembling sobs that cracked from her chest and into the open.
I pulled her into my arms.
