Presley Estates, Wesbury
I’m pacing back and forth in the bedroom this morning, the cellphone pressed to my ear, my heart weighed down with worry. Leonard’s on the other end, and I’m hanging onto his every word.
‘So, she’s okay?’ I ask, desperate for some good news.
‘Yeah, she’s a lot better. They’re letting her go home at nine-thirty,’ Leonard tells me, and I feel a bit of the tension in my chest ease.
‘That’s good,’ I say, trying to sound relieved. ‘She’s okay then?’
‘She’s fine, Duke. It was just food poisoning, nothing serious,’ he explains.
‘Food poisoning?’ That’s unexpected. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yeah, a mild case. She’s going to be fine,’ he assures me.
I take a deep breath, letting that sink in. ‘Okay,’ I say, trying to convince myself more than him.
‘You don’t need to worry,’ Leonard says, but worry is all I’ve got.
‘I can’t help it. I barely know her, and this whole thing… it’s freaking me out,’ I confess. The unknown is always scarier.
‘She’s fine, Duke. Really. Just let it go,’ he says, sounding a bit exasperated.
‘Alright,’ I say, not fully convinced but trying to let go of the anxiety. ‘I’ll call later, after she’s been released.’
‘Sounds good. Thanks,’ I add, before ending the call.
Hanging up, I try to shake off the lingering unease. She’s okay, it’s just food poisoning. But the fear that something worse could happen doesn’t quite leave me. I know I won’t be completely at ease until I hear her voice, until I know for myself that she’s truly alright.
I dial Elena’s number with a rush of urgency, needing to connect, to hear about the slumber party. The phone rings three times before she picks up.
‘Hello, Duke?’ Elena’s voice, familiar and comforting, comes through.
‘Good morning, Miss Elena,’ I greet her as I try to inject warmth into my voice.
‘How are you?’ she asks, her tone always so genuine and caring.
‘I’m good, and you?’ I ask, though part of my mind is elsewhere.
‘Not bad,’ she replies. ‘Aisling, is she with you or still asleep?’
‘She’s sleeping,’ she informs me, and I can’t hide my slight disappointment. I was hoping to catch a moment with her.
‘We stayed up all night talking,’ she says, and I can almost see them, lost in their world of conversation.
‘That sounds nice. Lots to catch up on,’ I acknowledge, trying to focus on their joy.
‘A lot, indeed,’ she confirms.
‘Could you let her know I called?’ I request, needing to bridge the gap between us.
‘Of course, I’ll tell her as soon as she wakes up,’ Elena promises.
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘She’ll call you back, don’t worry,’ Elena assures me, and I feel a small weight lift off my chest.
‘I appreciate that,’ I tell her.
Ending the call, I’m immediately greeted by a knock on the door. I open it to find Tara there, a food cart beside her.
‘Good morning, Sir. Your breakfast,’ she says cheerfully, her bright demeanor slicing through the morning’s fog of anxieties.
