Just Like Fate. Cat Patrick
“Simone,” I start, my decision made. “I’m going to . . . go. I’ll go with you to the party, but only because I can’t stand another minute with my sister. I swear she waits for me to screw up just so she can throw it back in my face.”
“If Natalie’s going to be a jerk all night,” Simone says, “you shouldn’t have to deal with it.”
I nod, thinking about how many times my sister has belittled me, made me feel like I’m not a part of my own family.
“And really,” Simone adds, “if she’s going to complain anyway, why not give her something good to work with?” I can hear the smile in her voice, challenging and protective as a best friend should be. As a sister should be.
“Yeah,” I say, looking back toward the room. “Why not.” I lean against the wall and exhale. “Hey, would you mind picking me up?” I ask. “That way when you drop me off tonight, I can stop in and say good-bye—good night to Gram.” I pause, thinking how different the word “good-bye” is now. How much heavier it is in my mouth.
“Simone?” I ask hesitantly. “Gram will be okay if I leave, right?”
“Of course she will be. It’s just a few hours.”
A feeling of dread comes over me, but the light in the hall returns—the fluorescent bulbs and white walls are all their normal boring colors again. In a way, it allows me to push away my concern and realize that Simone’s right—it’s just one night out of all the nights I’ve been by my grandmother’s side. If she were awake, she would probably tell me to go to the party. She’d tell me to wear lipstick, too. And a night away from Natalie can never be a bad thing.
“I’m on my way,” Simone says. “We’ll grab burgers or something first.”
I agree, but when we hang up, nervousness creeps up my arms. I’m not a fan of confrontation, and this looming one with my sister is going to be a blowout.
The nurse is just leaving Gram’s room when I get back. I see Natalie hovering near the window, back straight, mouth downturned. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling the rift between my sister and me growing. I wonder if eventually it’ll get big enough to end our relationship altogether.
The minute I step into the room, her judging eyes find me. “Where’d you go?” she asks. “I just got done talking to Mom.”
“I was busy,” I say, reaching for Gram’s hand. Her skin is thin and pale, her lips slightly parted in unconsciousness. As I hold her, I have the fleeting thought that this is it. I want to tell my grandmother everything I’m thinking and feeling. I want to tell her that I love her. Absently I bring her palm to my cheek, imagining that she’s awake, saying how much she loves me, too. When tears flood my eyes, I sniffle and set Gram’s hand back down. It’s only a few hours, I tell myself. And maybe then Natalie will be gone and I can hang with Gram—just the two of us, like it’s supposed to be.
“I’m going out,” I say to my sister, not looking in her direction. “Tell Mom I’ll be home after eleven.”
“What? You can’t just . . .” She jumps up from the chair. “You’re so goddamn selfish, Caroline,” she says. “Do you think you can just do whatever you want? You have an obligation to this family. You—”
“Oh, shut up!” I call out, my voice carrying through the sparse room. “You’re not my mother—you’re certainly not Gram. Maybe if you had your own life, you wouldn’t—”
“Don’t you dare!” she shouts. “I’ve been the one to hold this family together. I’m the one who makes sure Mom eats her dinner when she can’t stop crying.” My sister puts her hand over her mouth as if she’s afraid she might betray an actual emotion other than bitch. After a second, she shakes her head. “You know what, go. Go, you coward.”
I’m shaking I’m so angry, so hurt. I can’t even think of something to say, can only grab my backpack and race out of there. I’m halfway down the hall when I realize I didn’t tell Gram that I love her, didn’t kiss her cheek good night. But I can’t face my sister, so I vow to tell Gram twice later.
I’m still with my sister, staring at the muted news on TV as an awkward, post-apology silence fills the space between us. My mother and my stepdad, Albert, return to the room, but my mother looks like a piece of ripped paper that someone hastily taped back together. She’s got that shiny redness to her face that happens when you cry off your makeup, and her hair’s fluffy-weird like she combed out what had been hair sprayed before. Seconds later, as if it were choreographed, Teddy walks in with two greasy bags from Burger Barn.
We dive on him like a pack of wild dogs, and just as Nat takes the biggest bite in history, Aunt Claudia breezes in wearing all black with a hot pink pashmina on top. Her bracelets and necklaces clink and clank, even at her slightest movements.
My mother immediately tenses. Aunt Claudia is her older sister. She’s a manless, kidless career woman who lives by business books. She frowns whenever she looks at me like I’m the visual representation of my mother’s bad choices in life.
Natalie idolizes her.
“Hi, Aunt Claudia!” Nat says, mouth full.
“Hello, darling,” Claudia says, managing to side hug Natalie while still staying far enough away not to get smeared with mustard or calories. She turns to my mother. “Diane,” she says. “You’re looking . . .” Her voice trails off; she doesn’t bother to lie.
“Nice of you to join us,” Mom says, her words dripping with accusation. I watch them, and like earlier with Natalie, I can see them. How my aunt Claudia talks down to my mother. How my mother lets her.
Aunt Claudia startles me from my thoughts as she appears in front of me. “You can’t say hello?” she asks with a chilly smile. Teddy speaks for both of us when he asks how she is.
My aunt doesn’t answer. Instead she turns, like she’s been waiting to look the entire time, and stares at my grandmother lying in the bed. My aunt’s proud shoulders sag slightly, her body seeming to wilt at the sight of her mother dying. But then she straightens and glides across the room to sit next to her.
“Hi, Ma,” she says softly, touching her arm. We’re all quiet until I hear my mother sniffle, and then Aunt Claudia looks over, stoic as usual.
“How long does she have?” she asks. “I’ll need to know whether to reschedule my flight to Cleveland.”
Mom, who’s never been about anyone but family her entire life—maybe to a fault—stares at her sister with her mouth open. Then she shakes her head slowly from side to side, like she’s about to lose it. I freeze with a half-mushed french fry between my teeth, wondering what’ll happen next.
“You callous—” my mother starts.
And that’s when Gram speaks.
“Stop fighting,” she says, blinking her eyes open. “I don’t want those to be the last words I hear.” Her speech reminds me of Judith’s—babylike.
Gram’s eyelids droop as if it’s a struggle to keep them open at all. We all jump up as my mother and Aunt Claudia crowd around her.
I