Mailboy (Wattys 2015 Winner)

30. Turning Page

The phone felt heavy in my hands. My mind went through a recapitulation of what happened last night. The memories of the pizzeria, the pancakes, sitting by the lake all came back with force. My heart dropped to the bottom of my stomach at the missing memory of Nico saying he'd stay.

He didn't say he'll stay.

"Hi, can I speak to Nicolas?" I said, struggling to keep my voice steady. If my phone were an arm, it would get blisters at how hard I was holding it.

His father's gruff voice registered in my brain, "He's not here. Who is this?"

"Zoey, sir. Is he gone?" I asked.

"I—uh, I thought he told you. He left thirty minutes ago."

He left.

"Thank you," I replied. "I've got to go."

That asshole.

I hung up. Only one choice was dangling in front of me with neon lights.

I couldn't do anything alone, though. I walked into the bathroom with new clothes. After having washed my face and combed my hair into a dull low ponytail, I slid an oversized SORRY, I DON'T CARE sweater on and Bermuda short jeans.

I carefully made Julia two pancakes, served them to her and let her munch away happily, then called the one person I knew would help, no matter what.

"James?" I said.

After a whole lot of groaning, I heard: "Zoey? What's up? It's barely 7:30. You're interrupting my until-12-pm-sleep."

"I need your help."

"What's wrong?" his voice shifted to serious within moments.

"Nico. He left. I need to get to the airport."

I could hear shuffling around, "I'll drive you. Be there in 10."

I sighed in relief and turned to my younger sibling. She gave me a toothy smile, obviously enjoying the pancakes. (Even though, these weren't my best.)

"You ready for school?" I asked her.

The contents of her Batman—she never liked Disney princesses. She didn't see them as heroes—lunchbox were more than effective: a grilled cheese sandwich, apple juice box, a banana and a note saying: have a happy day, don't forget to smile! love you. —z

She shrugged, toying with the last half of her pancake. "There's this boy."

"And?" my interest sparked.

"His name's Ben. He says that because I'm a girl, I shall end up bringing food to my hubby one day. 'S annoying."

"To hell with Ben," I answered, zipping up her bag and putting it close to the door. "He's a pig. You're an independent, beautiful woman who'll be more successful than he ever will be."

"Really?" she smiled. "I'm sussful."

"Successful," I corrected, taking her plate. "No need to learn it for now, Jules."

A series of loud honking made me jump and drop the plastic plate in the sink. My reflex was to get scared for the plate, but thankfully it wasn't glass. I grabbed Julia's hand, her bag and the keys to the house and we were out of the house in seconds.

James's beaten down BMW stood in our driveway, he ushered for me to hurry. I got in the backseat of the car, holding Julia closely. James gave Julia a high-five.

"Morning, kiddo," he told her.

"Morning! I'm a sussful woman!"

James gave me a questioning look but answered: "I'm sure you are."