We ended up at a little cafe. Phil had a soup and sandwich, and I had a small soup.

"So, what are your plans for your week off?"

"I'm planning to spend it at the hospital. I can get some work done on my laptop as well."

"Oh yeah, how is your job going?"

"It's been crazy. But, things are coming together pretty well. Always a new crisis though. On time and on budget are usually at cross-purposes."

"It must have been hard for you to take a week off."

"Yeah, it was. My boss was pissed, but it's my mom, right? I'll end up doing a bunch of stuff anyway."

"You're doing the right thing." I wondered more about this whole overwork issue. "Do you like your job?"

"I like it. But my boss is kind of disorganized. Sometimes I feel like his micromanaging is putting more stress on us. Like if he let everyone do their jobs, things would get done. But if he has to double-check every damn detail or changes his mind-it'll take that much longer."

"How many hours are you working each week?"

Phil shrugged. "Maybe 70."

Holy smokers. "Wow, how do you find time for a social life?"

He laughed humourlessly. He was like a fake Phil-without his usual energy and intensity. "What social life?"

I wasn't sure what to read into that. As long as I'd known him, Phil had always found time to pursue his hobbies: outdoor sports, music, and women. I toyed with my soup, and there was a short silence.

"You need to have more fun," I blurted, inspired by Greta's words.

"I see. And you're passing judgement on my life based on the ten minutes we've spoken in the past 24 hours? What gives you that right?"

"Sorry. But you look stressed, and with everything that's been happening with your mom and work-" I faltered. "Besides, we're friends, right?"

"Last time I checked, friends contacted each other more often than every six months." Phil's eyes burned right into mine.

"Well, I didn't think I should contact you once I left. You made that pretty clear."

"But what about after I wrote to you? How come I never heard from you then?"

I shook my head. "Phil, I couldn't call you while I was with Jimmy. That wouldn't have been right."

"You could have let me know you got the CD, and what you thought of it."

"I love it. I'm sorry I didn't let you know." How could I explain what I didn't fully understand myself-the worry that if I were to talk to Phil, I might have had second thoughts? I tried my hardest to make things work out in Chicago, even if it meant cutting off ties to my old life.

"I was worried, Kelly. You didn't seem like yourself when I saw you."

"I wasn't. I was-" I shook my head. I really didn't want to get into all the ways I had pretzeled myself to fit into Jimmy's life. "I don't want to talk about this. I'm trying to get past this shit."

"And then you didn't even bother calling me when you got home," Phil continued. Apparently there was no end to his grievances.

"Phil, for fuck's sake-I was a complete wreck. I spent an entire month looking at the ceiling of Ben's guest room." Had Ben never mentioned this to him? What the hell did guys talk about?

"I told you to call me if you needed help. Clearly, you did."

"Did that ever occur to you that I have a little pride? You warned me that Jimmy would hurt me-and he did. Maybe I didn't want to see you when I was barely holding things together. You, with your perfect job and your perfect girlfriend."

Finally he dropped his gaze. "Emily is not my girlfriend."

"Oh, sorry. I guess the fact I see her on your arm at every social event gave me the wrong impression."

"However great you think my life is, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't trade places with me."

I realized I was arguing with someone whose mother was seriously ill. What a brat I was being. "I'm so sorry, Phil."

Phil shook his head. "Why do we bring the worst out in each other? I can't believe how whiny I'm being."

"I don't know. Maybe after everything we've been through, all we can be is honest." I remembered Greta's request. "Are you sure you're not dating Emily?"

"Positive. Look, Emily and I were going out at Christmas, but we haven't seen each other much since. The wedding was a one-off, insurance, in case-"

I waited but he didn't finish the sentence.

For Greta's sake, I asked, "Phil, would you like to go skating tonight?"

"Skating? What are you talking about?"

"I'll find a rink that's open, and we can just skate around. For fun."

"Why are you asking me out? Is this a date?"

"No, of course not. We could go as friends, assuming you still think I'm a friend." Was he done complaining about what a crappy friend I was, or was there more?

He considered this for a minute. "Yeah, okay," he replied without enthusiasm.

I arranged to meet Phil at the hospital just before eight. When I got to Greta's room, he was there with his dad and his brother, Ray. Her operation was the next day, so everyone was tense.

She noticed my skates. "You are playing hockey tonight?"

"No, Phil and I are going skating later." I figured it would cheer her up to know I was carrying out her instructions.

She nodded. "Like old times." She reached out for Phil's hand. "When he was eleven, he came home, very serious. Then, the big announcement: 'Mom, I am going to marry Kelly when we grow up. She can tell jokes and play hockey. That is what you need in a wife.'"

We all laughed in a semi-embarrassed way.

Greta continued, "Perhaps it is not bad advice."

I had to nip this thing in the bud. I was in no position to get into any kind of relationship. "You know, Greta, you're really milking this sickbed thing."

There was a moment of shocked silence. Then I heard a weird noise-Greta was laughing heartily.

"Kelly has no b.s. in her," Phil's dad said with a broad smile. I think that they were all happy to see her laughing. We chatted politely for a few minutes, and then the nurse came by to get Greta medicated for the night and remind us that visiting hours were over.

I waited outside so the whole family could have some time alone. Phil came out first, and we walked down the hall.

"Have you got your skates?" I asked.

"Yeah, they're in the car." He was silent until we got to the parking lot. Then he asked, "Did my mom ask you to go out with me tonight?"

"Not exactly. She wanted me to get you to have more fun."

I was worried that he was going to fly off and refuse to go with me now, but he only shook his head. "Moms. Even when they're sick, they worry about you."

"You know, everyone is worried about you-Ben, April, me. You don't look very healthy, and you seem to be working too hard."

He shrugged. "I'm working. At least the project has an end date. Anyway, I'm off this week, so let's focus on that."

We ended up at Britannia, the arena I taught at two summers ago. The old rink was nice, and they had a crazy disco ball reflecting light everywhere. It was almost empty so we ended up skating fast and racing each other around. I could see that Phil was loosening up and enjoying himself.

Afterwards, in the parking lot, I ran over to the big snow pile behind the rink, made a perfect snowball, and decked Phil right in the back of the head. He swore at me. We started pelting each other with snowballs, from opposite sides of the snow pile. It ended when Phil snuck up behind me and gave me a face wash. We were both soaking wet but laughing our heads off. Greta would have approved.

Phil drove me home, even after I protested that I could walk. He cast a dubious eye over the house. "You live here?"

"Not only that, I live in the basement suite. It's dark and tiny." Might as well share all the good news at once. "So, you want to do something tomorrow too?"

"Is this also part of my mother's grand plan?"

"Half."

"And the other half?"

"The other half is that I had fun." Would it be too pitiful to admit I didn't have fun much anymore? "I've got lots of ideas for your week off. I found my in-line skates in my parent's storage locker. We could go around Stanley Park. We could go swimming, you like swimming. Hiking to Quarry Rock-"

"Okay, okay," Phil interrupted. "It all sounds good, but right now I'm prioritizing my mom. She has her operation first thing in the morning. We should know the results right after. I'll call you later, and we can hook up."

"Sure. Text me because I'll be working. That was fun tonight, right, Phil?"

"Lots of fun." He was looking more relaxed already.

44.

A New Beginning

Phil

Cautiously optimistic.

Those were the doctor's words after my mom's operation. He thought he had removed all the tumours. Next she'd have to go for chemo, but he was cautiously optimistic that she could be cancer-free at some point. He made no guarantees of course, but overall the outcome was much better than we had expected.

I watched my dad's face. Relief took over from the worry and tension that had been etched there. Our home wasn't exactly a hotbed of demonstrative affection, but in a crisis, my family came together. My dad depended on my mother more than I had ever realized.

Afterwards, I went for a nice lunch with my father and my brother. For the first time in weeks, my senses were awakening. I could see the sparkling sunlight, smell the fresh bread, and hear the din from the kitchen. The seafood linguini was the best I'd ever tasted-salty, lightly spiced, with perfectly al dente pasta. We polished off a bottle of wine and told stories about my mother's crazy adventures. She was the strongest woman I knew. I could feel that tightness in my stomach loosening. It was like I had been underwater and I was rising to the surface.

After lunch, I decided to take a walk by myself in the sunshine. I texted Kelly to let her know the good news, then kept walking and meditating on life. Ironically, although I had spent so long wishing for Kelly to reappear in my life, all this week I had too much on my mind to even process her presence. But now that my mom was getting better, I could finally think about us.

At the wedding, Kelly had explained that the asshole cheated on her. I had hardly processed that information then. But I realized what a huge betrayal that had been for someone as loyal as Kelly. And her experience had left her marked.

Now we had a week of "fun times" planned. Kelly was in her element when she was being helpful. We weren't dating and there was nothing romantic about us hanging out, but still-we were at least together.

For my week off work, I got into a routine. I spent the days at the hospital with my mom, retreating to a nearby Starbucks to work when she napped or had medical procedures. Then I went out with Kelly every night and reported those excursions back to my mother the next day. On Saturday, when she was being discharged, Kelly came along to help us. She said she could take care of any "female" things, but I knew it was her big heart that made her do all this. She was always sympathetic and giving, and now it was my turn to be on the receiving end of her kindness.

I drove her back from my parents' place. She invited me in, and I got to see the famous basement suite.

It was unbelievably tiny. She had a single bed against one wall, a couch, and a white coffee table. The white walls had been freshly painted, but that couldn't disguise the fact that there was hardly any natural light, and you could see people's feet walking by the tiny window. The kitchen was a miniature sink, an under-the-counter fridge and a two-burner stove, with a small counter ledge separating it from the main room. There was a tiny bathroom in a strange green colour and a closet jammed full of stuff. Her hockey bag was under the bed, and her hockey sticks decorated one corner.

"Isn't it nice?" she asked, apparently without irony.

"Nice? Kelly, it's kind of a shithole."

"I know, but it's my shithole. I pay the rent, and I call the shots here."

"Isn't this a big contrast from the last place you lived?"

"I'd rather live here on my own nickel than in some gilded cage."

"Then it's great." I wasn't arguing. "Wasn't that couch at Ben's place before?" I thought I recognized the ugly striped pattern.