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Jack

“What brings you to San Diego?”

“Business. As always.” It’s my standard answer. “What about you?” I glance one last time at my phone, slip it into my briefcase, and give Chuck Strand, the president of our industry association and an old family friend, my full attention.

“Oh, have some friends a little north of here. They’ve been after us to spend some time on their boat, travel along the coast. Judy’s been looking forward to it.”

“Sounds nice. It’s a gorgeous coastline.” The menu set before me catches my attention.

“Perks of the job, you could say.” Chuck lifts his menu.

A low, vibrating hum emanates from my briefcase.

“I’d imagine so.” It’s Chuck’s job to befriend everyone. “You know, I have a house here in San Diego. On the beach. Hardly ever use it. Fully staffed. You and Judy are welcome to it whenever you want.”

“Thank you, Jack. Appreciate that. Might take you up on it.” Chuck sips his water and sets the glass down. He fidgets with the handle of the knife.

The hum from the briefcase continues, and I bend down and zip it closed.

“You said you’re here on business, but your daughter lives here, too, right?”

“She does. Hence the house.” I lift my eyebrows and give him a conversational smile. I bought the San Diego property after the divorce, after my ex-wife relocated here.

“She must be a teenager by now. You got a picture?”

“Sir, um, are you Mr. Sullivan?” A young hostess stands before me. She can’t be more than nineteen. Her skin is flushed, and she’s holding her hands together in front of her stomach.

“Yes. What can I do for you?”

“Um, sir. You received a phone call. Patricia Jones, she works with you?” I nod as my gut grows uneasy. “She needs you to call her. It’s urgent. You can use our phone or–”

“I’ll call her. Thank you.” The vibrating hum grows louder as I unzip the briefcase. “I’m going to take this–”

“Go, go.” Chuck waves me off as I press Patricia’s name. He pours his brand of southern-style attention on the hostess.

“Patricia. What’s going on?”

“Jack.” I still, standing in a hall near the restrooms. “I don’t quite know how to tell you this.” A restroom door opens, and I nod at the exiting patron. “There’s been an accident.”

“At the office?” She’s back in Houston. “At one of the plants?”

“Oh, Jack.” Her grandmotherly voice waffles.

“Patricia. Speak.”

“Cassandra was in a car accident this morning.”

My fingers ice over. The phone slips, and I clench my hands and press it hard against the side of my face.

“Taking Sophia to school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was Sophia in the car?”

“No. No. It was just her. Sophia’s safe.”

“What hospital?” I charge toward the outside of the restaurant.

“No, Jack.”

“Is she at home?” An attendant approaches, and I give him my name to retrieve my car.

“Jack. She didn’t make it. Um…she’s…Jack, Cassie died.”

“What the…” I saw her yesterday. “That doesn’t make any sense. Where is she?”

“Jack. Her car is still registered in your name. The police called trying to reach you. It happened this morning. An investigation is ongoing.”

“An investi–”

“Jack. I need you to listen. Her name hasn’t been released yet, but it will be. You need to get to Sophia. You need to be the one to tell Sophia.”

Oh, my god. This can’t be happening. Did I cause this with everything going on?

“Jack, I told the police she was an immediate relative, and you would be the one to let her know.”

“Right. Of course.” I’m numb. I can’t. What the hell ? “Are you sure? I just saw her yesterday.” She asked me for a second chance. And what did I say? Did I even…oh, my god, what were my last words to her?

“Jack, I know this is hard. But Sophia needs you. You’ve got to get to Sophia.”

Right. Sophia. Her mom is her everything, and god knows we’re not exactly close since the divorce. How the hell will I tell her?

“Jack? Are you there? You’ve got to get to Sophia. She’s at school. I’ve been in touch with them. She’s in class. But they said when you arrive to go to the front desk. They’ll have a private room available, and they’ll get her from class.”

This can’t be right. Cassie. She can’t be .

“Jack? Listen. I know this is hard, but you’ve got to get to the school.”

“Are you sure it’s Cassie? Did you see photos?”

“Jack. Listen to me. It’s Cassandra. And your daughter needs you.”

“How?”

“She was hit at an intersection. The car apparently didn’t stop at a stop sign. The police officer didn’t tell me more. The person who hit her died in transit to the hospital.”

“And Cassie?”

“She was…they think it was instantaneous. She didn’t suffer. Jack? Are you okay?”

A weight slams down on my shoulder.

“Jack? I’m gonna drive you. Okay, son?” A car pulls up, and Chuck opens the back seat door. There’s a driver behind the wheel.

“Jack?” Patricia’s concern pulls me back to the curb.

“What do I tell Sophia?”

“Jack, you tell her that you love her. And that you’ll be there for her.”

Oh, my god. I can’t .

Chuck approaches. His arm extends, and I shove his hand away. How the fuck does he know? What’s going on?

“Jack, just tell her. And be there for her.”

I will. I will be there for her. God, I haven’t been there for her in years. Not really. But I will be there for my daughter now. I don’t know how, but I will.