Sydney LeMarque still wasn't used to the nausea her morning class brought. The central air did little to help. Having no window and crammed to capacity with students who'd entered fresh from the humid conditions outside, the psych classroom was fusty.
The subject itself fascinated her, but the droning cadence of Professor Morgan's lecture lulled her into a mindless half-sleep. Several people snapped to attention when Sydney jolted in her seat, surprised by the sudden vibration in her pocket. She waited for the attention to pass before pulling her phone out. It was from Sandy, her stepmother, and it was short.
Hey sweetie, call after class please.
Sandy was usually a bit more verbose. More than that, she knew Sydney's schedule and wouldn't interrupt her during class. Whatever the reason, if Sandy couldn't convey it through text, it was bad.
"Professor? I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to leave."
"I'll email you the lecture notes," he answered.
She grabbed her bag and left.
It wasn't until she'd exited the building and reached the edge of campus that she pulled her phone out again. Making certain she was alone, she found a patch of grass and sat down. Pulling up Sandy's number, she took a deep breath and called. Sandy answered after a single ring.
"Hey sugar," the familiar, though now thick and almost breathless voice greeted, "I don't like doing this over the phone. Are you somewhere you can sit?"
No small talk? Also unusual of Sandy.
"I'm sitting. Are you okay? Are daddy and Jordan?"
"Jordan and I are. God, this is hard," her voice cracked, "It's your dad. He's just had his results back. The chemo didn't work."
She forgot how to breath for a second.
"What? What does it mean?"
"The doctor's saying he... Time isn't on our side," she answered, her voice breaking.
Sydney swallowed hard and found herself shaking, unsure why she was suddenly angry.
"How long? Did they say?"
"They aren't expecting more than two to three months."
Her anger bubbled to the surface.
"Well fuck them. They were wrong about chemo, they could be wrong about this. We'll get a second opinion, and I'll sue those sons-of-bitches."
Her outburst was followed by silence.
"Sandy?"
"I'm here, sugar. I'm just at a loss. Your dad and I have spoken with four different oncology teams. They're all in agreement, though. I'm so sorry, Sugar. He has months."
The anger didn't go away, but was overtaken by numbness. Months. The word lost all meaning. How could a life be measured by the months that remained? She couldn't know.
"I'll get there as soon as I can."
"You know what he'll say about leaving school."
"And he can just get over it."
"That's my girl," Sandy answered and, for the first time, she sounded lighter. Like a weight had been lifted.
"I'll call when I'm on the way."
"I made your room up for you yesterday. I'm just finishing up Jordan's now. Oh," she paused for a moment, and Sydney heard the sound of her father's voice in the background, "I have to go, sugar. You're father needs me. Love you."
"I love you, too."
***
Sydney had emailed her professors and the dean, letting them know she'd be absent and might have to withdraw for the semester. She needed to let Cole Reaves, her boyfriend, know but kept putting it off. Saying the words out loud would make it feel too real. She didn't think she was ready.
Still, she shot him a text letting him know they needed to talk. Within minutes he texted back telling her to come over and that his roommates were out.
The door was unlocked when she arrived. The smell of stale beer and cheap bleach mingled in the air but, true to his word, they were alone. He waited on the sofa, his mouth a solid line, his eyes creased in the corners.
"Everything okay?"
It was a simple question, but it broke something in her. Sydney could no longer hold back from crying. She wasn't hysterical, but Cole crossed the room and held her before she could process what was happening.
"It's my dad," she said between breaths, "The chemo didn't work. He's dying."
Cole cradled her as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, one arm wrapped around her, the other hand stroked her hair.
"I'm so sorry, babe."
She tried to get her breathing under control; to stop the flow of tears. What she needed was a distraction. Her mind raced to the flights she'd researched on the way over.
"I can get a 6:30 flight from Boston, but not until Monday," she said, standing up and drying her eyes.
"I'll drive you."
"It's almost twenty hours one way."
"I don't care if it's thirty. You want to get home, I'll make it happen."
"You can't do that. You have that test coming up... What are you doing?"
He had pulled his phone from his pocket.
"Emailing the faculty. I'm taking you. It's one less thing to stress you out. Try and relax, and I'll get this taken care of. We'll leave early to get a head start on the traffic."
Once Cole set his mind on something, there was no changing it. He was laser-focused now. At times it frightened her how much he cared. Now, though, she was grateful.
She still needed to keep her mind occupied, and began a running list in her mind of everything she needed to pack. Only the essentials, she decided. She could send for anything else. With limited time remaining in her father's life, she was determined not to waste a second.
"I'm going to run home and pack a bag."
"Alright. I'll be there as soon as I'm packed. We can leave around three. Be safe. I love you."
"You too."
She didn't know why she couldn't bring herself to say she loved him. He was the kind of man most women wished for - caring, protective, considerate. His compassion was something she envied. Yet, for all his virtues, she felt something was lacking. There wasn't time to dwell. She gave him a quick peck on the lips and left.
***
Unable to sleep, they ended up leaving just before one in the morning. Between Cole's led foot, taking turns sleeping and driving, and only stopping when absolutely necessary, they reached Lakeland, Florida 18-and-a-half hours later.
Sydney had to admit it was beautiful, especially when they passed Lake Hollingsworth, but she hadn't missed it. She'd been a teenager when her dad and Sandy moved them from the suburbs of Dallas, Texas to central Florida. By then all the girls her age had forged cliques she was barred entry to. She had managed to make one friend, though. After her dad and Sandy, it was Willow she missed most.
"Almost there," Cole said, squeezing her hand and pulling her from her thoughts.
She looked up to see her father's street come into view, filling her with both longing and dread.
"I hate it. The house, I mean. Dad bought it for Sandy as one of her restoration projects. It gives me the creeps though."
Cole gave a little chuckle, "Why?"
"I don't know. There's just something... off?"
"You don't believe in ghosts, do you?"
She shrugged, "I'm not sure. It's not that it's haunted. At least, I don't think it is. But at times it's like there's someone or something there. Even when I'm alone. That, coupled with Annette's murder... I don't know. I just don't like it."
"But she didn't die in the house."
"No. She was murdered in a little forgotten cemetery adjacent the house."
He squeezed her hand again, trying to be reassuring. She pointed as the house came into view.
"Here it is."
They pulled into the drive. Sydney's dad and Sandy were out on the porch and stood to greet them as Cole parked. Sydney watched as Sandy helped her dad down the steps. He resembled a scarecrow: a bundle of sticks and very little hay stuffed into clothes two sizes too big.
