I stood in the middle of the pharmacy near my apartment, my shoulders shaking from holding in my tears. She would return. She was better.
One of my biggest fears was that she and I would never recover from our losses. That the hole would be too big to ever fill. We’d never move on.
But Tina was doing it.
I could do it.
I plucked a bottle of shampoo off the shelf and dropped it into my basket. Gavin was already much better from his vasectomy reversal, and our follow-up appointment was in three weeks. Then we’d know where we stood.
I wouldn’t be afraid.
Two girls passed, giggling, with a box of condoms. Good for them, I thought, then paused by the sign that said “Family Planning.”
I took a few steps closer to the pregnancy tests. I didn’t see the one I had taken all those years ago, when I found out I was having Finn. They must have changed the design. I couldn’t remember the brand.
Below them were ovulation predictors. You could buy individual sticks, or splurge and pick up a little computer that told you the best time to try to get pregnant.
It was a crazy price, really, plus you had to buy little test strips to put in it.
But I put it in my basket.
And in a few weeks, I might get to try this gadget out.
I refused to feel any guilt about the money as I checked out and drove home. You couldn’t put a dollar figure on hope.
When I pulled into the parking lot of the complex, Gavin was just getting off his motorcycle.
He seemed extra animated as he removed his helmet and came over to take the bag from me.
“What’s going on?” I said, already smiling from the extra energy coming off him.
“I’ll have to show you,” he said. “You got your laptop?”
“It’s in my backpack,” I said. “You have a paper due?” Gavin was still in one night class.
“No. It’s something amazing,” he said.
I followed him up to the door, wondering what was going on.
He set the bag on the coffee table and lifted the backpack from my shoulders. “Come here,” he said, sitting on the sofa. He pulled the laptop out.
“You going to tell me?” I asked.
“Only if I need tech help.” His grin was huge, like he couldn’t contain his excitement.
He pulled out his phone to consult something, then opened a video chat window on the laptop.
“You going to Skype?” I asked.
“Yup,” he said.
“Who with?” I couldn’t imagine he would be this excited about anybody, certainly not his parents.
But when I saw the number he was putting in, I knew. International call.
“Manuelito,” I said.
He waited a second, hands clasped, impatient, and then the call went through. Rosa came on the screen.
“Hello again,” she said. “Hello, Corabelle.”
I looked over at Gavin. “You found her?”
“The investigator got something into the compound. She called at the garage. I couldn’t talk then.”
Rosa moved aside, and Manuelito filled the screen, so close we could see only his eyes and nose.
“Papa Gavin!” he said. “Corbell!”
Tears sprang for the second time that day. “Hey, baby,” I said.
“We got your number again!” Manuelito said. “Finally!”
Gavin said, “They took Rosa’s phone with all her contact numbers when she arrived. Really tight security there.”
I wanted to ask him what it was all about, but Manuelito backed up and we could see more of him.
“You cut your hair,” Gavin said. The boy’s thick black mop was burred close to his head.
Manuelito ran his hand over it. “It’s fuzzy!” he said. “And look!” He turned and pointed to a lightning bolt shaved on the side.
“Wow!” Gavin said.
“Mama Rosa let me do it. Now I’m like Bolt!”
“Just like in the movie,” I said.
“I’ve missed you,” Gavin said.
“Me too!” Manuelito said. “It’s been forever!”
I clasped Gavin’s hand. “Papa Gavin went to Mexico looking for you.”
Rosa’s face entered the frame. “I know, Gavinito,” she said. “I am sorry. I did not know where we were going until we got here, and then they took everything. I should have memorized your numbers.”
“When can I see him?” Gavin asked.
She pulled Manuelito onto her lap. “I will try, Gavin. We are safe here. That is all I can say.”
“What is going on?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Family trouble. I can say no more. But if I can come, I will come. You can call us whenever you like now. We are not prisoners. Just safe.”
I squeezed Gavin’s hand.
“Can I come there?” he asked.
“No, please, no,” she said. “It will not always be like this. But for now, it must be. I will try to come to you by summer. Please understand, Gavin.”
“I don’t understand,” he said.
“I am so sorry,” she said. “We have to go now. We will talk again, anytime you like, okay?”
Gavin nodded. There was nothing else he could do. “Bye, buddy,” he said to Manuelito. “You be good for Mama Rosa, okay?”
Manuelito waved. “Bye-bye! Love you!” His little-boy enthusiasm was not dampened by the tension between the adults.