Just Like Fate. Cat Patrick
begging the universe to let me keep her. I pull up a chair on the other side of the bed and try to block out my sister’s existence. It doesn’t work.
“Her vitals were weak this morning,” Natalie murmurs. “They’ve been adjusting her medication.”
“Her vitals were weak two days ago, then they got better.”
“Well, she’s worse now,” Natalie says. “She hasn’t woken up all day, and they don’t know when she will. Mom nearly collapsed and I had to call Albert to take her out for some air. She’s going to need you after this, so don’t pull one of your stunts.”
I scoff. “Stunts? It was five years ago, Natalie. I had every right to move in with Gram.” I lean toward my sister. “And I’m still glad I left. I don’t regret a second of it.” I sit back, feeling sick that Natalie brings out the venom in me.
“Where will you run away to this time?” she asks bitterly. “There’s no one to pick up your pieces anymore.”
I glance sideways at my grandmother’s face, serene in sleep . . . or sedation. “She’s not dead, you know,” I whisper. “So stop acting like she is.” I take Gram’s hand, noting how cool her skin is. I stand and the chair scrapes loudly on the floor. “I’m not going to sit here listening to this,” I tell Natalie. “Have Teddy call me when he gets back.”
I walk away, feeling my sister’s glare on my back. “That’s right, Caroline,” she calls out dramatically. “Run away. Take all the attention for yourself. You’re worse than the two-year-old because you should know better.”
“Drop dead,” I say, and then suddenly wish I could take it back. I turn to my sister, her expression stunned and hurt, but it’s too late to apologize. Instead I can only lower my eyes.
“Love you, Gram,” I tell my grandmother, hoping she can hear me. And then I leave, planning to come back when Teddy does. Just as I get into the hallway, the sunlight outside the window fades behind a cloud, making it seem suddenly dark. It’s eerie even though I’m safe. My phone rings, startling me. I glance at the caller ID and take a deep breath.
“Hey,” I say into the line.
“Well?” Simone asks. “Are you coming with me or do I have to kidnap you? Please tell me it’s the first option, because I’m running low on chloroform.” She launches into a description of the party, who will be there, and what her outfit options are.
“It’s not a good time, Mony,” I say, interrupting her. “My sister is a rag and my mother is having a breakdown. I swear to God if Teddy falls apart, I might just lose it completely.”
“Maybe you need some space from your family.” She says it as if she actually believes the words and isn’t just trying to bend me to her will. “One night off. Come on, Linus. Don’t make me forge important high school memories alone.”
I smile, thinking it over. A party—a college party—sounds like a truly good time, the sort of good time we’ll talk about for the rest of the year. Then again, these moments with my grandmother could be the last I have.
“So . . .” Simone says, waiting for my decision. “Are you going to spend the evening with me and distinguished alumni, or are you going to argue with your sister all night?”
It might be my imagination, but the hallway seems to darken even more. No one is around, and for one moment everything is quiet. And then I sigh.
“Simone,” I start, my decision made. “I’m going to—”
“— stay.”
Simone’s quiet; I know she doesn’t understand. She’s never experienced anything like what I’m going through. I think of reconsidering—it’s just one night—but once the decision’s made, my shoulders loosen. Even though Gram seems the same, and as much as I don’t want to be anywhere near Natalie, there’s no way I’m leaving tonight.
“Fine,” Simone says. “But don’t come crying to me, Argentina, when you’re the only one without a superhot college boyfriend tomorrow.”
“Promise,” I say with a forced laugh. The guy I like is our age anyway. “Call you later?”
“You’d better,” Simone says. “I’m sure I’ll have all sorts of scandalous gossip. You know how Gwen and Felicity are when they’re around older guys.”
“Total Lolita-land,” I say, laughing for real. “Remember the time with the water bra?” Simone snorts, which makes me laugh harder. When we stop, she surprises me with sincerity.
“Take care of yourself, Linus,” she says quietly. “We all know how much you love Gram—just remember to love you, too.”
“I will,” I say, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I’ll try.”
As I hang up the phone, the light in the hall returns—the fluorescent bulbs and white walls are all their normal boring colors again.
I walk back to Gram’s room. A nurse is checking her vitals while Natalie’s sitting awkwardly on the very front of the recliner near the window, like she doesn’t want to risk getting too comfortable. It occurs to me that it’s like a metaphor for her entire life.
“Is your mother coming back soon?” the nurse asks in a clipped tone that makes me nervous.
“Yes,” Natalie answers. “She just went out for some air. I can call her?” Nat looks at me, and I see the anxiousness in her eyes too.
“I think that’d be a good idea,” the nurse says. “Just in case your grandmother wakes up.”
In case she wakes up?
Before I have time to ask about the alternative—Gram not waking up—the nurse briskly leaves the room.
Panicked, I turn to Natalie. I don’t know how or why, but I see my sister in that moment—really see her. She’s got a tough outer shell, but she’s loyal to those she loves. And one of the people she loves the most is dying. We are the same, she and I. For the first time in a long while, I go and sit next to her.
“I don’t want to fight,” I say quietly. My mouth is dry, and I’m actually nervous to be having this conversation. It strikes me as strange—after all, she’s my sister. “I don’t think I can fight anymore.”
Natalie’s surprised eyes find mine, but she doesn’t say anything. I continue. “Gram’s been there for me, but I’m starting to realize that she won’t always be. And I’m scared.” My face stings with the start of a cry, and I turn to find Natalie watching me with a softened expression.
“I don’t want to fight either,” she says. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I really am.” She’s never told me she was sorry. Never. I let the words linger in the air to unravel the hurt they’ve caused all this time. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear them. “I don’t know how we got so . . .” I begin, not sure what word to use.
“It was my fault,” Nat says.
“But I made it worse,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry.” Natalie shifts uncomfortably. She’s never been good at letting people in. For a while, I thought that if only Nat had my back a bit more, I might’ve stayed at home after the divorce. But that’s just not her . . . not since we were little anyway.
Under normal circumstances—like if this were Teddy or Simone or even Mom—I’d reach out for a hug. Instead I keep my hands folded