Dear Edward: A Novel by Ann Napolitano Read Free Book Online Page A

top between her teeth and gives a little tug, splitting the wrapper.
    She pulls down her white pants, then her underwear, and squats over the toilet seat with her arm between her legs. She takes a deep breath and pees on what she hopes is the stick. She remembers the teenage boy telling the TSA officer that he didn’t like the pose people had to take inside the screening machine—something about it being degrading?—and wonders what he would think of this pose. Her thighs shake, and the plane trembles too.
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    —
    In first class, Crispin Cox tries to ignore the twinges in his abdomen. Instead, he thinks of his first wife, Louisa, the one who never gave up. That’s her tagline in his head: the one who never gives up. They’ve been divorced for thirty-nine years, much longer than they were married, and yet every few years her lawyer contacts his lawyer with some drummed-up excuse to take more from him. More money, more stock, more real estate. Sometimes in the name of their kids, sometimes for herself. And goddammit if she doesn’t win half the time.
    The nurse, next to him, says, “The doctor said that you were in stable condition, sir. But you seem to be in a fair amount of pain. Can you rank the pain on a scale of one to ten for me?”
    “I’m fine,” Crispin says. “I just need another pill.”
    Why does he remember Louisa so well—he could repeat verbatim their dialogue at Carlino’s that night, when she wore her hair the way he liked and a peacock-blue dress—but he can’t remember where they honeymooned, or the occupation of his youngest son, the bright, squirrelly one? His life is there, with all its characters, but clouds keep passing across the view. What he sees, what he recalls, changes every hour.
    The nurse centers the pill on his open palm.
    He says, “Stop looking at me like that.”
    “Sir, I’m just trying to do my job.”
    “Exactly,” he says. “You’re looking at me like I’m your goddamn job. I’m no one’s job—never have been, never will be. Can you get that through your thick, mulish head?”
    The nurse looks down, as if her feet have suddenly caught fire and she needs to watch the flames. Jesus, some people are so weak. Blow on them and they fall over. He pictures Louisa again and thinks: She never looked away when I yelled .
    The flight attendant with the world-class hips is in front of him. Where did she come from? The pain is abruptly worse. A wave crests.
    “Can I help out here at all?” she asks, in a smooth voice. “Would you like a beverage, sir, or a snack?”
    But the pain is stuck, the wave fixed, and he can’t speak. Next to him, the nurse is mute. She might even be crying, for Chrissakes. Crispin forces his hand into the air, hoping the gesture will make the flight attendant disappear.
    “I’d love a beverage,” a man across the aisle says, and Crispin closes his eyes, the pill safely beneath his tongue.
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    —
    The plane gives a gentle bounce; Veronica places her hand on a seat as she swivels. It’s quiet on the aircraft; only the overhead vents can be heard clearing their throats. The passengers are pulled into themselves; the long flight has only just begun, and they need to get used to this new space, the silver bullet in which they will spend most of the day. They resign themselves to the new normal, one by one. The prevalent question is: How should I pass this time before my real life resumes?
    Jane hides her smile while listening to her seatmate flirt when the flight attendant returns with his drink.
    “Where are you from?” he asks.
    “Here’s your Bloody Mary, sir.”
    “Mark, please.”
    “Mark.” Veronica readjusts her hips. “I’m from Kentucky,” she says. “But I live in L.A. now.”
    “I’m from Baltimore. I live in New York, though. I couldn’t live anywhere else. How long have you been in the flight industry?”
    “Oh, five years, I guess.”
    He’s nervous. Jane sees his knee bouncing beneath the tray he’s lowered