Chapter 08. Interacting With The Past
1595 Words
~August, 2025~
— — — —
Anne-Marie’s P.O.V
We leave for Minnesota in two weeks.
Despite a full, strenuous day of work, I started packing an hour ago, and I’ve only succeeded in making a mess of my room. My back hurts; my thighs ache, yet nothing is packed, and everything is out on the floor and on the bed, because Maryanne has refused to let me drop her. Although she’s fast asleep against my chest, every one of my attempts at putting her down in her crib has attracted a tantrum. She awakens, kicks, throws hands, and cries.
My left hand wraps around her back, keeping her glued to my chest, while I use my other hand to sort through clothes, mentally fighting sleep and exhaustion. I yawn and shake my head to keep fighting off the slumber. There’s been no time to pack, and the rest of my week is still filled up.
Behind my closet, the light reflects against something. With a blink, I lean close to stare at it – a clear poly bag. It stops my breath, shooting a lump into my throat. A dark fabric is folded inside the bag—Champion’s varsity jacket.
Firming my grip around her body, I secure Maryanne and slowly bend to pick up the bag from where I’ve buried it all this time, letting my mind finally travel to that unfortunate night— the worst night of my life. A night I’d give anything to forget or change.
For a year, I blamed him for all that happened, but somewhere in the pain, I forgave him and admitted to myself that he wasn’t to blame. It was all my fault, and I will never be able to forgive myself.
That midnight, Beatrice had called and texted him while trying to get to me, but we were both asleep. And even when I saw his phone ring, answering his call wasn’t something I would ever do. He called her over and over again for days, and sent texts saying he wanted to speak to me, but I told her never to pick up or respond. A week later, she changed her number for my sake.
I couldn’t bring myself to throw the jacket away; I couldn’t bring myself to burn it and bury it with all my pain. Though nameless and without a logo, the jacket looked too significant. There was an autograph inside it.
His face lingers in my mind for a second. His icy blue gaze. I shut my eyes, will it to go away, and fling the polythene bag onto the mess in my room.
Drained, I move to my desk and sink into my seat with a labored sigh. Both of my hands cradle my sleeping baby to my chest before I slowly let her sit in my lap.
“Mommy…” she mumbles, turning her head and sucking her lip, still sleeping. I stroke her back gently, grateful she’s still asleep.
A burgundy business card on my desk steals my attention. I stretch a hand to pick it up, staring at the name:
‘Marcus McCarthy
Managing Director, Litho Core Semiconductors & Technologies’
All this time, I never called to thank him for calling 911 and helping to get my mom the care she needed before she passed. After seeing my late sister at the other hospital, I returned home and felt the card inside the pocket of the varsity jacket. Diana told me he had to leave when I passed out, so he left that behind in case I needed help with anything else. I was too devastated to speak to anyone. As time passed, it got harder to call.
But better late than never.
I pick up my phone, type in his number, and call. Taking a deep breath, I glance down at Maryanne as it rings against my ear. The line cracks and–
“Marcus McCarthy speaking. You’ve reached the COO of Litho Core. How may I help you?” His deep voice floats into my ear.
He’s a COO now?
Keeping my voice low, I answer, “Err… Hi… Em, it’s Anne-Marie. ”
“Anne-Marie? Were we classmates?” He asks with little interest in his voice.
Of course, he doesn’t know my name. We didn’t speak.
“No. Not a classmate… Um… Berean General Hospital. Two years ago… You called 9-1-1 when my mom was hit by a car.”
His end goes dead quiet.
I twist my mouth, moving my eyes from one corner of my room to the next as I wait. Maryanne stirs on my lap, and I consider hanging up. But I still wait. “Hello? Are you there?”
His deep sigh travels to my ear, and I exhale, clenching a fist.
“Anne-Marie,” he calls so softly. “That’s your name… How are you?”
My brows flick up as I’m slightly disarmed. “I’m okay. I’m good.”
“I’ve been waiting for your call since that night… It’s so good to hear from you. It’s really good.”
I nod, eyes still glued to my sleeping baby.
“Heard you lost your mom. The hospital wouldn’t divulge any information. There was no way for me to find you. I wanted to—”
“Oh, thanks… I’m actually very good. I’m really sorry for not calling back all this time. I– I have no excuse.”
“No, no… I totally understand. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. But I’m good.” I repeat, hating the pity party already. “And thanks for understanding.”
“Of course, I’ll understand… I lost my mom, too.”
“Oh!” My eyes widen. “Oh. I’m so– so sorry.”
He chuckles. “No need to apologize. It’s been a while. Over a decade. So, I’m good.” He drags the last two words, mimicking me.
It should be funny, but it’s become hard to c***k me up, so I say nothing.
“I’d love to see you.”
Oh, no.
“You’re in New Jersey, right?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure—”
“Please,” I hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t turn me down. I just want to see you again.”
I stay quiet.
“I live and work in Minnesota… Two years ago, my family and I were just in New Jersey for a few days. My little brother had to see a game I unfortunately missed because I had some work with my Dad. But–”
“Minnesota?”
“Yes. Minnesota.”
I don’t know why, but I casually utter, “I’ll be in Minnesota in two weeks.”
“Wow… Am I not the luckiest man alive? I’ll fly you over. First class.”
“No, no. Please. I have everything covered. I’m flying with my friends and, um, …” I stop myself from mentioning my baby.
“Like a girls’ trip?”
“Something like that.”
“Okay. Okay… So, I’ll see you in two weeks?”
“Er…” My head runs through the dozens of things I have to do once I’m in Minnesota. There’ll be barely any time to sleep, not to mention hanging out with a COO.
“Would that be impossible? Why? Do you need–”
“No, I don’t need anything. I just have a lot to do when I get to Minnesota. I’m afraid, going on a date–”
“I never said it was a date.” He stops me, and the smile in his voice pushes the heat of embarrassment to my cheeks. I decide to stay silent, subtly wishing I hadn’t called.
“But that’s what I had in mind,” he redeems me. Yet it only makes things feel weird. “I wanted to take you out for dinner. But… you don’t wanna go on a date.”
I nod, hoping he gets it from my silence.
“Okay. Not a date. My brother’s birthday is in the first week of September. The weekend after you arrive. And his girlfriend and mom– my stepmom are throwing a huge party. I have been mandated to bring a plus-one. How does that sound? Not a date. Just a plus one… Nothing serious.”
I shut my eyes, fighting the urge to sigh as I push my fingers through my hair. I hate parties, celebrations, birthdays, clubs, and everything meant to be exciting. And all I want to do is turn down this person who seems to remember me more than I can remember him. I doubt I’d be able to recognize him if I ran into him somewhere.
“Okay,” I answer.
“You’re coming?!”
“Can I say no?”
“No! Yes. Yes. I’m sorry, you can. You can do whatever you want to do,” he mumbles sincerely. “All I’m asking for is a few hours of your time. But it’s okay if you don’t want to see me.”
“Just a few hours of my time. I can spare that… It’s the least I can do to thank you for what you did for me.”
“It’s okay…” He sighs in relief. “See you in two weeks, Anne-Marie.”
“See you in two weeks.”
“Marcus. Marcus. That’s my name.” He reminds me.
“All right, Marcus. See you in Minnesota.”
- Writer
