Chapter 8: Come Back
1476 Words
The Port Authority bus station smelled like piss and old coffee and broken plans.
Perfect. Felt about right.
I had forty three dollars in my account. A one way Greyhound to Chicago was eighty nine dollars. Math was not mathing.
I sat on a busted plastic chair by Gate 14 and stared at my dead phone in my hand. I needed to call Jen. Tell her yes. Tell her I was coming. Tell her I needed a couch and a job and a new life starting yesterday.
Phone was dead dead. Zero percent. Black screen.
There was a charging station by the bathrooms. Two dollars for twenty minutes. I had forty three dollars total. Fine. Whatever.
I plugged in. Waited. Watched the little battery icon crawl up. One percent. Two percent. Three.
At five percent the phone turned itself on and exploded.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz,buzz,buzz,buzz,buzz.
Missed calls flooding in all at once. Like a dam breaking.
Twelve missed calls. Mercy Ridge Hospital.
Six missed calls. Unknown number, New York area code.
Four missed calls. Calder. From before I blocked him.
Two voicemails. Both Mercy Ridge.
My stomach dropped straight through the floor.
No no no no no.
I hit play on the first voicemail with shaking hands. Hands shaking again. Always shaking.
Miss Vance, this is Nurse Patel at Mercy Ridge, calling about your sister Valery Vance. Please call us back immediately regarding a change in her condition—"
Deleted. Called back. Fast fast fast.
Ringing. Ringing. Pick up pick up pick up.
Mercy Ridge Oncology, how can I help you?
Valery Vance, I choked out. Room 407. This is her sister Sloane. You called me. Twelve times. What happened. Is she—"
Hold please.
Hold, music?
Are you kidding me. Music while my sister—
Sloane?
Not the nurse. Calder.
What the hell are you doing answering the hospital phone, I snapped.
Where are you? he said. Voice rough. Tired. Nothing like the smooth CEO on CNBC this morning.
Bus station. Why do you have Valery's nurse phone. Where is my sister. Calder what happened.
A beat. Too long a beat.
Come back, he said. Now.
Tell me what happened.
Post-op bleed. She seized about forty minutes after you left. They rushed her back into surgery. Patel is with her now.
The plastic chair tipped over behind me. I dont remember standing up.
Is she— is she—"
She's alive, he said fast. She's alive. In surgery. Come back, Sloane.
I was already running. Bag banging against my hip. Phone pressed so hard to my ear my knuckles went white.
Why are you there, I said, panting, pushing through the crowd at Port Authority. You had a board meeting. You had press. You told the whole world I was nothing.
I never left the hospital, he said. Quiet.
What?
I did the CNBC hit from Patel's office down the hall. Walked back to Valery's room five minutes after. You were already gone.
I stopped dead in the middle of 42nd Street. Taxis honking. People shoving past me.
You lied, I said.
Yeah," he said. On live TV. In front of twenty million people. I lied.
Why?
Because the SEC was watching. Because the board had that video. Because if I admitted you were mine on camera they would have arrested you before lunch for wire fraud. Denying you was the only way to keep you out of handcuffs.
My throat closed up.
So you let me think— you let me walk out—"
You blocked me," he said. "Remember?
Fair. God. Fair.
I tore up your check, I whispered.
I know. Nurse told me. Found it in the trash. Taped it back together.
"Calder—"
Sloane. Get in a cab. Come back. Please.
Please. Calder Thorne just said please.
I flagged down a yellow cab with my whole arm waving like a crazy person.
Mercy Ridge Hospital, I told the driver. Fast. Please fast. I'll pay extra. I dont have extra but I'll figure it out.
He floored it.
Twenty three minutes. Longest twenty three minutes of my life. Longer than the first surgery wait. Because this time I wasnt there. I left. I walked out. I left my sister alone to go run to Chicago like a coward.
I burst through the ER doors running. Hair everywhere. Eyes puffy. Looked insane.
Calder was in the surgical waiting room. Same chairs from last night. Same bad coffee. Only now his suit was rumpled. Tie gone. Sleeves rolled up. Hair a mess like he'd been running his hands through it for hours.
He stood up when he saw me.
I slapped him. Hard. Palm across his face. Cracked loud enough the nurse at the desk looked up.
Then I collapsed into him sobbing, fists twisted in his ruined shirt, face pressed into his chest.
He held me. Tight. Like last night. Like he was trying to keep all my pieces from falling apart.
You left, he said into my hair. Rough. Mad. Scared. "You left me a voicemail through a nurse. Twelve calls, Sloane. Twelve.
You told the world I was nothing, I sobbed.
"lYou know thats not true.
Do I?
He pulled back just enough to look at me. Eyes red. Jaw tight. That perfect CEO face completely wrecked.
Listen to me, he said, low, only for me. I lost the board vote. Seven to two. I'm out as CEO. Effective immediately. Stock is tanking. SEC opened a formal investigation. FBI will probably knock on my door by tomorrow.
I stared at him.
What?
I chose you, he said. Simple. Behind closed doors, after the cameras turned off, I told the board the video was real. That you were mine. That I coerced nobody, that you saved your sister the only way you could, and that I'd burn the whole company down before I let them touch you.
"Calder—"
They fired me. Miranda quit with me. Good. So I came back here and sat in this ugly chair and waited for you to unblock me like an i***t.
I couldnt breathe.
You threw away a thirty billion dollar company," I whispered. For me.
I threw away a company, he said. I kept the only thing I actually want.
Then the surgery doors banged open.
Patel walked out. Mask down. Face tired.
We both stood up fast. Calder's hand found mine. Squeezed hard.
She's stable, Patel said. We caught the bleed in time. Shes going to be fine. Shes asking for her sister.
I choked out something that was probably a laugh and probably a sob and ran past him through those doors.
Valery was pale. So pale. Tubes everywhere again. But awake. Eyes open.
Hey, she croaked, voice like sandpaper. You left.
I'm back, I said, grabbing her hand, kissing her knuckles, crying all over her hospital blanket. I'm back, I'm back, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I left, I'm sorry—"
Shhh, she said, weak smile. He told me you'd come back.
Who?
Valery looked past me to the doorway.
Calder was standing there. Leaning against the frame like his legs wouldnt hold him up anymore. Watching us with that look. That look like we were worth keeping.
He never left, Valery whispered. Even after you left him. He sat right there and held my hand when I coded and told me you were coming back. Said he promised.
I turned around. Looked at him.
Calder Thorne. Ex-CEO. Under federal investigation. Probably broke by billionaire standards by morning. Standing in a hospital doorway at noon in a ruined suit with my sister's hospital bracelet still wrapped around his wrist from last night.
Rule Four, I said, voice shaking.
No feelings, he said.
Yeah, I said. I think we broke that one too.
He smiled. That slow not-nice smile that started all of this in his office at midnight with a forged check and a contract I never should have signed.
Good, he said.
Then the elevator dinged down the hall. Heavy footsteps. Two sets.
Calder Thorne? a man's voice called out. Flat. Official.
Calder's face went blank. CEO mask back on, one last time.
FBI, he said quietly, just to me. Told you they'd come fast.
He squeezed my hand once. Let go.
Stay with your sister, he told me. "Dont say anything to anyone without Miranda present. I'll fix this.
"Calder—"
He leaned down, kissed me hard and fast right there in front of Patel and Valery and God and everybody.
Thirty days, he whispered against my mouth. "Contract still stands. You're mine, Sloane Vance.
Then he turned around, hands already half raised, and walked toward the agents waiting in the hall.
The door swung shut behind him.
Valery squeezed my hand.
Go get him, she said.
I was already running.
- Writer
