And if I was all he had, I should make myself useful by getting him home after he was discharged. I walked into his room, faking a cheery smile. “Hey,” I greeted, setting down a bag and pulling out some things I’d picked up from his house. Randy was going to have the housekeeper do it, but I insisted on doing it myself.
Sean didn’t respond, just looked at me, sullen, even when I pulled out his pillow and replaced the one he’d been complaining about. As I was adjusting it behind his head, he grabbed my hand, forcing me to stop and look at him.
“You don’t have to baby me, Libby.”
I scoffed. “I’m not babying you.”
He looked like he wanted to argue more, but instead he just sighed and sank back, closing his eyes.
“You okay?” I asked.
“My hand doesn’t work,” he bit out without looking at me. “No. I’m not okay.”
“Your hand doesn’t work right now, but it will.”
“Yeah, when? How much time? How much time will I lose in the recording studio? How many tour dates will I miss?”
I pressed my lips, not in the mood to indulge his diva moment. “The world’s not going to end just because you miss a couple tour dates.” I gave him a hard stare. “You’re going to recover. Life will go on. And while I’m not a fan of kicking a man when he’s down, I do feel the need to point out that this isn’t something that happened to you.” I said with a bite. “You did this to yourself.”
He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t lecture me.”
“Don’t say stupid stuff that deserves a lecture.”
We stared at each other, caught in a battle of wills. I thought of Serena, the way she had so easily handled him. She had the skills to squash his ego and put him in his place while still making him smile and feel loved. How I wished she were here now, for myriad reasons.
I gave up on the staring contest and went down to the cafeteria to cool off, once more running into Naomi. She was starting to feel like a constant fixture in this place. “Fancy meeting you here,” she said as she slid her tray onto the table across from me. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“So, how’s your complicated man today?”
“Whiny. How’s your dad?”
She let out a half sigh, half groan. “More tests. Most scans.”
“I’m sorry,” I commiserated. “How long has he been here so far?”
“Almost a week.”
“Geez. I’m sorry. Are you here every day?”
She tipped her head from side to side as she chewed and speared another bit of salad. “Pretty much. I’m the single daughter with no children, which apparently means none of my siblings need to come check on him.” She stabbed her lettuce with extra fury.
“What about your mom?”
“She has to keep up appearances.”
“What appearances?”
“Nope.” She wagged her fork at me. “First rule of VIP wing. Don’t ever identify your VIP.”
I laughed at her total misquote and we ended up exchanging numbers before parting ways. Naomi and I understood each other.
When I made it back to Sean’s room, I was in a better mood, and fortunately so was he, probably because he was about to be discharged.
“Hey,” he said as soon as I walked in. “I’m sorry for being a jerk.”
“You were moping.”
“Yeah. I was in pain, but they gave me something for it. It should kick in soon.” He tried to smile at me. It didn’t work. “And I just don’t like hospitals.”
I sank into the chair beside his bed. “That’s not surprising.” I didn’t think anyone actually liked hospitals.
“They remind me too much of you. When you were here. When Serena died.”
I couldn’t look at him. I just stared at the door and swallowed.
“Having you hurt,” he continued, “while we were putting Serena in the ground. I mean, my mom was there, but not really. And you weren’t there. And that made everything so much worse.”
“I’m sorry it was her and not me.” The words escaped my lips without my permission.
“What?” He sounded horrified, which confused me.
I raised one shoulder just a little. “I’ve always wished it could have been me, that I could have traded places with her.”
“Why would you say that?” The anger in his voice made me turn to look at him. The anger was written on his face as well.
“Wouldn’t that have been better?” I asked. “If you had been able to keep your twin sister?”
“What kind of question is that, Libby? Are you serious? You want me to try to pick between having her die and having you die? You want me to weigh the pros and cons of my sister or my best friend dying and see who comes out ahead?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I defended myself, annoyed at the tears in my voice, no doubt caused by trauma and a severe lack of sleep. “I wasn’t saying you should choose, I’m just saying I’m sorry she’s gone. I’m sorry it was her when I was the one driving the car.”
“You’re not allowed to be sorry about living, Libby.”
“I’m not sorry about that. I’m just sorry she’s dead.” I fixed my gaze on him and he stared back. We were again locked in a ridiculous battle of wills, at odds with each other for no reason.
After a few tense moments, he spoke up. “Not everything is your responsibility.”
Right. Not everything. “But some things are.”
“Not that.” His tone allowed no argument.
That didn’t mean he was right.
♪♫♪
I was being a mother hen and I knew it, but it couldn’t be helped. I was practically glued to Sean’s side as he returned home from the hospital that afternoon.
He was on the couch, his hand—which was wrapped so much that it was the size of a boxing glove—resting on a pile of pillows that I had provided for him, and I was in the kitchen, gathering water bottles and snacks.
“You really don’t have to be here, Libby,” he hollered from the living room.
“You’re medicated. I’m not going to leave you alone.”
“Medicated doesn’t mean helpless.”
I didn’t argue for fear of revealing my real concern. He did the cliché drinking thing. I didn’t want him to do the cliché dying-from-an-overdose thing as well, and that fear loomed very large in my mind. My friend with an addictive personality was on narcotics. I was allowed to be worried.
I came back to the couch, my arms loaded with supplies, and we turned on the TV, eating and talking as the evening wore on. He fell asleep with his head in my lap and I had to carefully move him so that I could sneak out and go home.
I had missed a call from Jonas, but I was too tired and it was too late to call him back.
♪♫♪
It wasn’t just Sean that had me running myself ragged. Solo/ensemble was coming up, which meant that I spent a lot of time after school practicing with all of the groups and soloists as the choir director put them through their paces. The downside of this was extra work. The upside was that I was playing. And playing—even when it was work—soothed me.