“Mom.”
“Cass?”
“Don’t. Please.”
“Stop, love. Just stop.” I quieted my voice, knowing with Cassie the only way to get through to her was with gentleness; aggression would only stiffen her pride and stubbornness. “I’m coming. I’m your mama. This is what mothers do, Cassie-lassie.”
She groaned a laugh. “Cassie-lassie? You haven’t called me that in like ten years.”
“First flight I can find, baby girl. Hang tight and be tough. Mama’s coming.”
She sniffled. “Mama, I…” she cut off with an audible gulp.
“I know, sweetheart. I know. Keep it together a little longer. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Mom, flights here are, like, thousands of dollars. Plus a hotel—”
“Let me worry about that. You just stay strong.”
“I know I’m supposed to be the tough one in the family. But I…I’m scared.”
“You don’t have to be tough all the time, Cass. We’ll figure this out together.”
“I’ll never dance again.”
“Cassandra, put that out of your mind. That’s not your priority right now. And don’t you dare put limits on yourself. Neither you nor the doctors nor anyone knows anything for sure. Right now, you just breathe like I taught you.”
She did as instructed—took a deep breath to the count of four, held it for four seconds, and let it out for a four count, and she did this four times: it was square breathing, which I had learned from a yoga teacher as a way to combat anxiety and panic, and I had taught it to all of my girls.
Once done, she was steadier. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“Nope. Not a word of that.”
“But you don’t know—”
“I don’t care. You can tell me when I’m sitting there with you.”
“Okay. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, Cassie-lassie.”
Once the call was ended, I tossed my phone aside on the bed and did some square breathing myself. Calmer, I snagged my phone up again and looked up flights. The soonest one was tomorrow—or rather, today—at five a.m., but it was a flight with several long layovers, so it ended up being fastest to take a flight at nine-forty, but which only stopped in Seattle and went directly from there to Charles de Gaulle airport. And it cost almost seven grand for a round trip. Yikes.
But this was my daughter, and I’d have given her a kidney, or my very life if needed, so a few thousand dollars was a small enough price to pay to be there for her when she needed me. I booked the flight, checked in, saved my boarding pass to my phone, and set about packing. There would be no more sleep tonight, so I may as well get busy.
By first light I was packed for a month. Once it was a decent hour, I began calling my clients, explaining that I had a family emergency. In a couple of cases, I emailed them my designs and an invoice, and told them they could either wait for me to return, or take my design proposal and let their contractor create things from there. I suppose it was a testimony to my clients’ loyalty to me that they all chose to wait until I was able to return.
I called a cab to take me to the ferry to the airport but, on the way, we passed my favorite hardware store.
“Excuse me,” I said to the driver. “Could we stop here for a moment?”
He glanced at me over his shoulder, puzzled. “The hardware store? On the way to the airport?” He shrugged laconically, and pulled over into the parking lot. “Whatever, lady. Keepin’ the meter running, though.”
“Thank you. My friend works here and I need to speak to him before I leave. He doesn’t have a cell phone.”
“Who the shit doesn’t have a cell phone, these days?” I heard him mutter, but it was to himself rather than to me, so I ignored his comment as I headed into the store.
I was greeted by Bill. “Hey-a, Liv. What can I get for you this fine morning?”
