He knew the flight info, but at the same time, he didn’t. “Noonish. Westjet, I think. How about I forward you the email I sent to Carole with everything from flights to hotel?”
“Perfect. In the next ten minutes would be great, if you can, please. I want to give it to the limo company.”
Jerry walked the phone over to the laptop and woke it up. “I’m at the computer now. Give me just a second to find that email.”
“Sure.” She went silent on the other end of the line, letting him work. Eventually he found what he was looking for and forwarded it to her. “Done, I think. Hard to tell when I squint like Gilbert Gottfried. If it’s the wrong one, give me a call right back. Otherwise I’ll let you figure out the timing and I’ll see you whenever you get here.”
“It’s a plan.”
“Good.” Damn! He still needed to shower and clean up a bit. The alarm sounded on his phone and when he strained to read it, he was pretty sure that the alarm’s reminder note told him to call and confirm the hotel and ask for early check-in. He’d even added the phone number for the Empress so a quick tap of the link and in three minutes he confirmed the reservations, secured 1pm check-ins, and even pre-paid the entire stay and guaranteed incidentals to his credit card, just to eliminate any argument from his mother that he couldn’t afford to look after the charges. Now it was done and locked in. She was probably going to be pissed off and the thought made him snicker. He opened his iTunes Barenaked Ladies playlist, set it to play randomly, and shuffled off to the bathroom. Steve and Ed’s voices followed him, telling him what they’d do if they had a million dollars.
JERRY SHOWERED AND shaved, mostly by feel because he couldn’t exactly see his whiskers. On his way back through the kitchen, with the now dry pyjamas draped over his shoulder, he hid the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, tossed two slices of bread in the toaster, and started the coffee maker. He was pretty sure he was low on decaf, so that would have to go on the list he hadn’t started yet.
The bed was easy to straighten up, even with his wonky vision. He stuffed his dirty clothes into the big orange laundry bag in the closet, and then gave the entire loft a quick squint to see if he’d forgotten anything. The place was a bit chilly, but he was going out, so starting a fire would be risky.
By the time Mika arrived, he’d started the draft of a blog post about his diagnosis and the direction things were going. He left out any mention of Ana, preferring to save that story for a fiction, like Mika suggested. He buzzed her into the building and opened the door to the stairwell a crack so she could get into the loft. He’d left his coffee somewhere and he wanted to find it before it got cold. Seeing his mother again had him needing fuel, even if it was decaf. He probably should have had something more than toast, but he planned to take them to lunch at the Empress once they were checked in to their rooms, so his belly’s rumblings could wait.
“Jerry?” The door swung open and Mika came in. Jerry looked up from the kitchen island, mid-sip of his coffee. He waved and Mika finger-waved back at him. “Hey, mister.”
“Hey, lady. You’re looking good, I think.”
“That’s a compliment?”
“From a guy with crappy eyesight, yeah. I can see dark boots—probably leather—an almost floor-length dark coat that doesn’t shine, so it’s probably wool and not leather, and a jaunty bright yellow beret. So, yeah, you’re looking good.”
“Thanks.”
He couldn’t see if she blushed, but her voice was soft and a bit huskier than usual, so she probably had. “Coffee? Tea?”
She hung up her coat. “The limo won’t be here for half an hour, so a tea would be nice. I can get it, though. You relax.”
“Done.” Jerry remained on the stool and Mika found the mugs, the tea for the one-cup maker, and set about fixing herself a cuppa.
“Are you ready to see your Mom and sister?”
“I suppose.”
“Are you really saying goodbye?”
“Even if I see them both—and Jean-Marc—again, I’ll say goodbye this weekend. When my other grandmother was sick a few years ago, every time we saw each other we knew it might be the last time, so we made sure we always said our goodbyes. When she did eventually die, I’d made sure I said everything I wanted to. The last time I saw my dad I turned around as I was leaving his hospital room, wanting to go back and tell him I loved him, but I figured I’d just tell him the next time I saw him. He died three days later, before I could get back into town to see him. I’ll never forgive myself for that. Even though we flashed a few finger signs at each other, Ana and I didn’t really get to say goodbye, and that hurts. Rest assured that I’ll be saying goodbye to everyone before I go.”
He stared off toward the window, not really seeing anything but the square of morning light. “The thing about cancer is that they may not be able to say exactly when I’ll be done, but based on the rate of the disease’s progress and how I’m holding up, they’ll probably be able to give me a few days’ notice to at least make a few calls, kiss a few cheeks, and return a few hugs.”
Mika turned quickly away from Jerry, her shoulders shaking as she bawled. He put his mug down and slipped off the stool. As usual, he had no idea what to say so he just turned her around and pulled her close, leaning his head against hers and letting his own tears flow. He’d already wept for himself and for Ana, so his tears quickly ran dry. Mika soon regained control, too, and finished with sniffles. Jerry kissed the side of her head and whispered in her ear, “Yeah, I know.”
They pulled apart, giving a last squeeze to acknowledge the shared moment, then each found a sink, splashed water on their faces, and were towelled off and back to smiling when the street door buzzer sounded. Mika checked her watch. “Five minutes early.”
“Better than five late.” He buzzed the limo driver up.
“Are we ready?”
Jerry crossed himself like a lapsed Catholic checking his pockets. “Spectacles, testicles, wallet, and watch… yup. Good to go.” He also surreptitiously checked his pocket for his meds.
“You’re a goof.” Mika slipped into her coat, and then helped Jerry with his.
“Yeah, tell that to my mother. She thinks I’m a wandering wastrel avoiding his mother at all costs.”
“She’s pretty astute. I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“Well, brace yourself, because we’re heading into the storm of storms.”
They stepped out of the loft just as the trim-moustached, retired-military-looking limo driver arrived on the landing. “Morning, folks. I’m Eldon. Any luggage?”
“Not yet, thanks, Eldon. We’re picking my family at the airport so I’m sure there’ll be bags then.”
“Excellent. Follow me, then, please Mr. Powell,” and Eldon led the way down the stairs and out to the dark blue stretch limo that looked almost black under the overcast sky.
Once they were settled in, Jerry closed his eyes to ward off a threatening headache.
“You okay, Jerr?”
“Just a little head-thumper. Nothing I’m not used to, thanks.” He opened his eyes, smiled at Mika. She shifted to face him.
“So, is your mother really as bad as you say? She’s probably a dear sweet lady with a heart of gold.”
“She is and does.” The limo was warm so he unzipped his coat. “But she has also spent the better part of my life telling me that I’m doing it all wrong.”
“Everything?”
“Pretty much. I think she had seriously high hopes for me to become a doctor or lawyer like some of her friends’ sons, but I chose the uncertain, low-paying world of radio. I got to be a professional goofball and she can’t see that loving what I do is more important than filling my bank account. Dad died of a heart attack working a stressful sales job for a disrespectful employer, trying to give us a terrific life. He did a great job, too, but it killed him. I swore I’d never work at something I hated so much that it’d stress me to death. Even though the pay was low in the beginning, and the hours are absolutely abusive, I love radio. I’m even going to try and talk Manny into letting me sub in for the gang periodically, to keep my hand in. I love music, people, and laughter, and life is best when all three are combined.”