When the time came, Monique and their Thriving with Cancer group stepped outside the room while Charlotte Levinson’s family had one last moment. Grief and loss never arrive the same for one person as for another. Mr. Levinson and Christopher were inconsolable, and Mrs. Levinson looked relieved. Dr. Tedrow followed them down the hall to handle the next steps.
Eleanor whispered, “We need to start shemirah.”
Monique stepped forward. “I’ll take the first shift.”
“But you’ve just got back.”
“And I’ll take the first shift,” Monique said again.
Monique entered the room and sat in a chair near the bed.
What remained of her sweet young friend was now covered in white linen. She reached for the book of Psalms Eleanor had set on the bedside table and opened to the twenty-third.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.” Her voice cracked on the first line. She kept reading anyway. “He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside the still waters. He restores my soul…”
Vanessa arrived a few hours later, bearing donuts and coffee. “How you doing?”
“I don’t even know,” Monique said, her voice hoarse from reading for hours. “Numb. Sad. Relieved?”
“That’s all allowed.” Vanessa put her bag down and opened her own prayer book. “Go home. Get some sleep. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”
Monique’s back ached and her eyes burned. “See you tomorrow,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 23Maurice
From almost the moment he touched down, Maurice’s phone did not stop ringing with familiar names. Even at five in the morning, the texts and voicemails didn’t stop. He cycled through all the covert messages of encouragement and love.
That scared and defiant boy he was all those years ago couldn’t recognize their love then. He’d been so lonely, so consumed by punishing himself, that he hadn’t allowed himself any comfort. He walked through the airport, so quiet at that early hour, and listened again, seeking the voice he most wanted to hear. He tightened his grip on his carry-on, his head aching from lack of sleep. His body was wired.
He followed the signs to the transportation center, unprepared for the slap of cold that assaulted him. A few hours ago, he’d been in Puerto Rico, where the night sky had been exploding with fireworks. Here, the morning was a dull, dark gray smear across the sky.
The train to the transportation center was quick, barely giving him time to cycle through his messages. He listened to his voicemail next.
“Hi, Mr. Martin. This is Jasmine—Monique’s daughter.”
He stilled and turned toward the window, listening closely.
“She made it back and is at her friend’s place. My aunties said she hadn’t reached out to you yet, but I wanted you to know she was safe. I think they’re—Jay, what is it again?”
“Shiva,” a male voice said in the background. The voices became muffled. “Who you talking to?”
“Get off my bed—I’m serious.” A soft thud. A laugh.
Jasmine came back on, breathless. “Okay, here’s the plan. Dr. T and the Thriving with Cancer group are going to Montrose Beach for this sunrise reflection thing. Then they’re heading to the temple for services. I’ll text you the address once they confirm it. It all has to be done in twenty-four hours, and from what Mom has said, Chickie will go sometime this morning.”
There was a small pause.
“Auntie Don said you were getting a car. So, pick her up from there. That way Mom can’t say no. You know how she is.”
The message ended. Maurice stood there and held the phone against his chest. His breath was uneven. Not shaky but full of anticipation for things he didn’t have words for.
He played Jasmine’s message again.
By the time he found the rental counter, filled out the paperwork, and got the keys, he’d listened to the voicemail three more times. Every detail had been accounted for, even his presence.
He stepped into the parking garage, and Chicago introduced itself. The wind wasn’t just cold. It was a blade, cutting through him like his jacket wasn’t even there. Deb had warned him, but he still wasn’t ready.
The rental car’s heating system was like operating a spaceship. Traffic crawled. Concrete rose on both sides of the highway that he had to look up just to see a strip of dark sky giving way to a gray dawn. Like at Graterford. But he had keys now and could leave whenever he wanted. That thought made him smile.