I’m pretty sure I will lose him for good after this.
But if losing him means saving him, I’ll do it. I’ll do it a thousand times over.
I take a deep breath. “Finn’s in trouble. He needs help, Carla. More than I can give him. I should have known. I should have figured it out.”
I hear her suck in her breath, then a worried exhale.
“Tell me everything.”
Fifty-Five
AFTER THE CALL WITH Carla, I find my family in the kitchen.
Dad’s got his arms folded across his chest, looking like he’s doing everything he can not to combust.
Mom’s got streaks on her face, like she’s been crying.
Charlie’s getting up from the table. He looks sadder than I’ve seen him in ages. But he also looks resigned. And it’s the resignation that breaks my heart, that lets me know I’m doing the right thing.
I don’t want him giving up his new life, the one he’s working so hard to earn, not when it’s time to start finally owning my own.
“I have to talk to you guys,” I say.
All three of them look at me.
For a second I falter, and the bad feelings start: my heart speeding up, heavy and intense, the sound around me becoming extra keen, my palms sweating, my head dizzy.
This is the last second my parents will look at me with absolute trust, the last second I can be the daughter who’s going to be a doctor, the girl who makes everything right.
But then, just like the roller coaster, the moment before the drop, Charlie’s hand on mine, I hear the words again.
I got you.
They make me brave.
He looks at me, understanding dawning on his face. “Parker, you don’t have to do this.”
I give him a small smile, shaking my head slowly. “I got you, Charlie.” And then I turn toward our parents. “Charlie wasn’t drinking and driving or any of that.”
“What?” Mom says, looking quickly between the two of us. Dad frowns.
“He just said that to cover for me.”
“Why would he need to cover for you?” Dad asks.
“Because that girl at the hospital, that girl who stopped by? She was close to telling you guys my secret. Which is . . .” I take a deep breath. “I quit my internship.”
Mom looks confused. “What did you say?”
“I quit the internship. At the hospital. I’m not doing it.”
“That can’t be right. I’m sure you can go back. You can call them on Monday.”
“I quit at the beginning of the summer,” I say. “I didn’t like it.”
“Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?” Dad asks.
“No,” I say.
“What are you going to tell Harvard?” he demands. “Are you going to tell them you ‘didn’t like it’? This isn’t how the adult world works, Parker.”
“I know.”
Charlie moves closer to me, standing next to me, and just having him there makes me stronger.
“This is because of that Casper boy, right?”
“Phil,” Mom says, trying to cut him off.
“No. It’s not because of Finn,” I insist.
“Well, then why are you throwing this away? Do you know how many people would kill to be given the opportunities in life that you’ve been given? Your brother’s one of them.”
I suck in my breath. “I’m not throwing it away.”
Dad turns to Mom like he can’t even bear to look at me one second longer. “It was nice for a while, not having to worry about the future of one kid, you know? But I guess that’s too much to ask for.”
“Now, Phil,” Mom starts. “Maybe we can fix this. I can call Dr. Travis’s office and see if they know of any internships or office jobs for Parker.”
I tune her words out, thinking about the last time Dad was this mad at me, that day all those years ago when I told him I wished Charlie was dead.
He had just given up the writing career he loved to better take care of his family.
He was exhausted from the traffic.
He was probably really, really worried about Charlie.
Meanwhile, I was only a kid.
A selfish, bratty kid.
A hungry and tired and confused kid.
A kid whose heart was breaking for her brother.
Charlie didn’t ask for cancer, but neither did I.
I shake my head. “No,” I say.
“What’d you say, Parker?” Dad asks, turning to me, furious.
When I said sorry all those years ago, Dad said: That’s not enough!
He was blinking back tears. I remember that, too.
“No,” I say more loudly.
I can’t save Charlie. I never could. None of us can. All we can do is try to be there for one another, loving each other the best we can in the process.
“I don’t want to be a doctor.”
“Jesus,” Dad mutters, and Mom blanches. She leans forward, touching his arm. “There are a lot of other majors at Harvard—maybe Parker could try a few other things out.”
“I don’t want to go to Harvard. I don’t want to be a doctor, and I don’t want to go to Harvard,” I say.
Dad’s face falls, and I see the disappointment. It’s palpable, what I’m taking from him right now. But I can’t. I shake my head. “I need to figure out who I’m going to be. And I can’t do that at Harvard.”
Charlie squeezes my shoulder then, quickly.
“Parker,” Dad says, trying to regain control. “Let’s talk about this. You’ve always wanted to be a doctor.”
I muster up all the bravery and honesty inside me, and I feel it then, helium moving through my veins, as light as eyelashes you wish on, as light as relief, even as my feet are on the ground, gravity steadying me, balancing me. “No. I just didn’t want you guys to worry when Charlie was sick. My body’s been telling me this for the past three months, and I need to listen. I can’t do it. I won’t. And I’m sorry if you won’t support me in that, but it doesn’t change anything.”
“Oh, Parker. I wish you could have told us all this before now.” Mom sounds so disappointed in me; my eyes start to water. But then she stands, pulling me into a hug, and my arms go slack with the relief of it. “But I’m glad you finally did. We’ll get through this.”
When she lets go, I look over at Dad, but he won’t meet my eyes. Mom sees, and loops her arm around Charlie’s waist. “Let’s go outside, you and me, and talk some more, okay?”
“You going to be okay?” Charlie asks me.
“Yeah, as much as I can be,” I say.
He nods, following Mom, leaving Dad and me alone.
I pull up the chair next to him, sit down. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“I just don’t understand why you’re insisting on throwing away everything,” he says, shaking his head.
I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to say what I want to say next. “Dad, a few weeks ago, Ruby asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, before I wanted to be a doctor.”
“What does this have to do with anything?”
“I told her I wanted to be you when I grew up.”
He stills.
“I remember you coming home with new music, I guess from bands you were writing about? You’d get out your old record player and put on the vinyl album and turn up the volume so loud, the entire living room would vibrate. And Charlie and I would dance, and Mom would tell you to turn it down, but she never really meant it.”
Dad’s whole body sighs.
“I didn’t know exactly what you did back then. I think I was too little to totally get it. But I could tell you were happy. And I just figured that’s who I wanted to be when I grew up—someone who was happy. But, Dad, being a doctor? That’s not it.”
He closes his eyes for a second, then rests his head in his hands. I angle myself closer, put my arm around his shoulder.
“I know you gave up your writing to take care of Charlie and me and Mom. I can’t imagine how hard that was. That was such a brave thing to do. But, Dad, Charlie doesn’t need me to take care of him anymore. He doesn’t need saving. Right now it’s time for me to save myself.”
I realize that I’m crying, but then Dad looks over at me and hugs me hard.
I let myself rest in his arms, not knowing if I’ve finally said the right words, but realizing it doesn’t matter, because I’ve finally said the true ones.
Fifty-Six
“THE HOWRYS ARE HOSTING the euchre tournament tonight,” Dad says. “But we should be home by ten.”
“What are you guys up to tonight?” Mom asks.