Meghann set the picnic basket down, then sat beside her sister. They both dangled their feet over the edge. Water slapped against the pilings. Beside them, a varnished wooden sailboat called The Defense Rests bobbed easily from side to side, its lines screeching with each movement.
“I stole that bikini,” Meghann said. “From Fred Meyer. When I got home, I was so scared I threw up. Mama didn’t care; she just looked up from Variety and said, ‘Sticky fingers will get a girl in trouble.’?”
Claire turned to her sister, studying her profile. “I waited for you to come back, you know. Dad always said, ‘Don’t worry, Claire-Bear, she’s your sister, she’ll be back.’ I waited and waited. What happened?”
Meghann sighed heavily, as if she’d known this conversation couldn’t be avoided anymore. “Remember when Mama went down for the Starbase IV audition?”
“Yes.”
“She didn’t come back. I was used to her being gone for a day or two, but after about five days, I started to panic. There wasn’t any money left. We were hungry. Then Social Services started sniffing around. I was scared they’d put us in the system. So I called Sam.”
“I know all this, Meg.”
Meghann didn’t seem to have heard her. “He said he’d take us both in.”
“And he did.”
“But he wasn’t my father. I tried to fit in to Hayden; what a joke. I got in with a bad crowd and started screwing up. A therapist would call it acting out. Trying to get attention. Every time I looked at you and Sam together …” She shrugged. “I felt left out, I guess. You were all I really had, and then I didn’t have you. One night I came home drunk and Sam exploded. He called me a piss-poor excuse for a big sister and told me to shape up or get out.”
“So you got out. Where did you go?”
“I bummed around Seattle for a while, feeling sorry for myself. I slept in doorways and empty buildings, did things I’m not proud of. It didn’t take long to hit rock bottom. Then one day I remembered a teacher who’d taken an interest in me, Mr. Earhart. He was the one who bumped me up a grade, back when we lived in Barstow. He convinced me that education was the way out of Mama’s trailer-trash life. That’s why I always got straight As. Anyway, I gave him a call—thank God he was still at the same school. He arranged for me to graduate high school early and take the SAT, which I aced. Perfect score. The UW offered me a full scholarship. You know the rest.”
“My genius sister,” Claire said. For once, there was pride in her voice instead of bitterness.
“I told myself it was the best thing for you, that you didn’t need your big sister anymore. But … I knew how much I’d hurt you. It was easier to keep my distance, I guess. I believed you’d never forgive me. So I didn’t give you the chance.” Meg finally looked at her. She offered a small smile. “I’ll have to tell my shrink I finally got my money’s worth. It cost me about ten thousand dollars to be able to tell you that.”
“The only thing you did wrong was stay away,” Claire said gently.
“I’m here now.”
“I know.” Claire looked out to the sparkling blue water. “I couldn’t have done all this without you.”
“That’s not true. You’re the bravest person I ever met.”
“I’m not so brave, believe me.”
Meghann leaned back to open the picnic basket. “I’ve been waiting for just the right time to give you this.” She withdrew a manila folder and handed it to Claire. “Here.”
“Not now, Meg. I’m tired.”
“Please.”
Claire took the folder with a sigh. It was the one labeled Hope. She looked sharply at Meg, but didn’t say anything. Her hands trembled as she opened the file.
In it were almost a dozen personal accounts of people who had had glioblastoma multiforme tumors. Each of them had been given less than a year to live—at least seven years ago.
Claire squeezed her eyes shut, but the tears came anyway. “I needed this today.”
“I thought so.”
She swallowed hard, then dared to look at her sister. “I’ve been so afraid.” It felt good, finally admitting it.
“Me, too,” Meg answered quietly. Then she leaned forward and took Claire in her arms.
For the first time since childhood, Claire was held by her big sister. Meghann stroked her hair, the way she’d done when Claire was young.
A handful of hair fell out at Meghann’s touch, floated between them.
Claire drew back, saw the pile of her pretty blond hair in Meghann’s hand. Strands drifted down to the water, where they looked like nothing at all. She stared down at the hair floating away on the current. “I didn’t want to tell you it’s been falling out. Every morning I wake up on a hairy pillow.”
“Maybe we should go home,” Meg said finally.
“I am tired.”
Meghann helped Claire to her feet. Slowly they made their way back to the car. Claire’s steps were shuffling and uncertain now, and she leaned heavily on Meg’s arm.
All the way home, Claire stared out the window.
Back in the condo, Meghann helped Claire change into her flannel pajamas and climb into bed.
“It’s just hair,” Claire said as she leaned back against a pile of pillows.