Between Sisters

“How come you hafta live with Aunt Meg?”


“It’s a long drive to the hospital. I can’t go back and forth every day.”

Finally, Ali said, “Okay.” Then she got to her feet and ran upstairs. “I’ll be right back, Mommy!” she yelled down.

“You haven’t looked at me,” Dad said when Ali was gone.

“I know.”

He got up and crossed the room, then sat down beside her. She felt the comforting, familiar heat of him as he put an arm around her, pulled her close. She rested her head on the hard ledge of his shoulder. She felt a splash of tears on her face and knew he was crying.

“I’d drive you back and forth, you know,” he said softly, and she loved him for it. But she didn’t want to grow weak in front of him. She and Meghann had read about radiation; when it was focused on the brain it could really make a person sick. It would take everything she had to stay strong through the treatments. She couldn’t come home every night and see herself through her dad’s eyes. “I know that. You’ve always been there for me.”

He sighed heavily, wiping his eyes. “Have you told Bobby?”

“Not yet.”

“But you will?”

“Of course. As soon as he’s finished in Nashville—”

“Don’t.”

She looked at him, confused by the sudden harshness of his voice. “What?”

“I didn’t know your Mama was pregnant, did I ever tell you that?”

“You told me.”

“I left one night to run to the store and when I got back, she’d left me. I tried to get ahold of her, but you know Ellie, when she’s gone, she’s gone. I went back to my job at the paper plant and tried to forget her. It took a long time.”

Claire put her hand on his. “I know all this.”

“You don’t know all of it. When Meg called me to come get you, I went from alone in the world to father of a nine-year-old in one phone call. I hated Ellie then like you can’t believe. It took years before I stopped hating her for denying me your childhood. All I could think about was what I’d missed—your birth, your first words, your first steps. I never got to hold all of you in my arms, not really.”

“What does this have to do with Bobby?”

“You can’t make decisions for other people, Claire, especially not for people who love you.”

“But you can sacrifice for them. Isn’t that what love is?”

“You see it as sacrifice? What if he sees it as selfishness? If … the worst happens, you’ve denied him the one thing that matters. Time.”

Claire looked at him. “I can’t tell him, Dad. I can’t.”

“I could kill her for what she did to you and Meg.”

“This isn’t about Mama dumping us,” Claire said, believing it. “This is about how much I love Bobby. I won’t make him give up his big break for me.”

Before Dad could say anything else, Alison bounded into the room, dragging her worn, stained baby blanket, the one she’d slept with every single night of her life. “Here, Mommy,” she said, “you can have my wubbie till you get all better.”

Claire took the grayed pink blanket in her hands. She couldn’t help herself; she held it to her face and smelled the little-girl sweetness of it. “Thanks, Ali,” she said in a throaty voice.

Alison crawled up into her arms and hugged her. “It’s okay, Mommy. Don’t cry. I’m a big girl. I can sleep without my wubbie.”





CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Meghann sat in the waiting room, trying to read the newest issue of People magazine. It was the “Best-and Worst-Dressed” issue. Honest to God, she couldn’t tell the difference. Finally, she tossed the magazine on the cheap wooden table beside her. The wall clock ticked past another minute.

She went up to the desk again. “It’s been more than an hour. Are you sure everything is okay with my sister? Claire—”

“Austin, I know. I spoke with radiology five minutes ago. She’s almost finished.”

Meghann refrained from pointing out that she’d received the same answer fifteen minutes earlier. Instead, she sighed heavily and went back to her seat. The only magazine left to read was Field & Stream. She ignored it.

Finally, Claire came out.

Meghann rose slowly. On the right side of her sister’s head was a small area that had been shaved. “How was it?”

Claire touched her bald spot, feeling it. “They tattooed me. I feel like Damien—that kid from The Omen.”

Meg looked at the tiny black dots on the pale, shaved shin. “I could fix your hair so you couldn’t even see the … you know.”

“Bald spot? That would be great.”

They looked at each other for a minute or so. “Well, let’s go, then,” Meghann finally said.

They walked through the hospital and out to the parking garage.

On the short drive home, Meghann kept trying to think of what to say. She had to be careful from now on, had to say the right thing. Whatever that was.

“It didn’t hurt,” Claire said.

“Really? That’s good.”

“It was hard to keep still, though.”