My Apple Watch lights up with a new text. It’s from Brian.

Did you make it to wherever you were going?

Ya, I say, clearly still pissed—not necessarily at him.

Good. BTW you left your purse in my car...

His text is a subtle reminder of just how high I flew my freak flag earlier. I was so worked up that I left my bag with Decker’s urn in Brian’s car. I assured Debbie that her son was not rolling around in the back of my trunk, but I guaranteed nothing about him floating around in the back of Brian’s Tesla. Am I unfit to take care of this myself after all? Was she right that I had no business handling his remains?

I call Brian immediately but it goes straight to voice mail. I dial back and the same thing happens. So I move on to a frantic text instead.

U have D, right?

Thirty seconds rolls by with no reply.

Right?

A minute.

Hello?!

Two.

My mind spirals as I begin to think the worst. Brian is pissed at me for acting like an ungrateful diva tonight. I don’t blame him. I look down at my phone. Still no reply.

I can picture Brian ignoring my texts as he drives to Debbie’s house to hand off the urn because that’s how far I’ve pushed him. I don’t listen to anyone. I’m a control freak. And above all, I’ve been a widow longer than I’ve been a wife and I can’t play the sorry-I-was-drowning-in-grief card anymore.

Why, Charlotte? Why did you have to run to work right then and there like an absolute lunatic?

I’m usually a girl full of answers, but I can’t even begin to tackle that one. The one thing I’ve kept an eye on so intently that it almost cost me my job (and frankly, still could) is the same thing I just happen to leave behind in someone else’s car like it’s spare change in the cup holder—all because I was so preoccupied with things at a company that isn’t even acknowledging my employment right now. Did I really think the interns wouldn’t be able to handle the event?

Just as I get up to grab my keys and drive over to Brian’s uninvited, I get a ping back.

Sorry, took a shower. Yes, I have D. We are drinking brews, watching football. I can bring him back tmrw.

I think about offering to come get Decker (read: I absolutely want to go get Decker and bring him back to my place right this very minute), but realize Brian is probably a little “Charlotte’d-Out” for the night, especially when it comes to the urn. And who knows, maybe Brian actually is enjoying the throwback to SportsCenter and simpler times with his best friend by his side. Either way, now that I at least have confirmation of Decker’s whereabouts, I can breathe a little easier.

Thx. Sry I kind of freaked out.

Speaking of...in med school, they teach you to pick up on the nonverbal signs of your patients.