My hand finds its way back to the top of the stone, and I let my forehead rest against my knuckles as I fall apart. Fears that I’ve shoved deep for years all bubble to the surface. Losing my sister will be the nail in my own coffin. I will have lost each member of my family without any way of stopping it.
“I’m supposed to help people. I save people every day, but I can’t save her, Mommy. I can’t help her. I can’t give her a life that she deserves. I’m so sorry. I know you trusted me to keep her safe.” All the emotions I’ve been holding in pour out. The crying is loud and painful, but necessary. I’ve been strong for so long, I don’t have it in me anymore. “How can you let God take her from me, too? I’ll be alone and have failed you all. Please forgive me—” My words choke off and I fold in on myself, sobbing and trying desperately to draw air into my too-tight lungs.
Eventually, when my eyes are red and puffy and my emotions have run dry, I stand and touch my hand to my lips before pressing the kiss on the headstone. “I love you both. I miss you more than you’ll ever know, and I hope it’s a while before I’m back here again.”
Because the next time will be Stephanie’s funeral.
I walk back to my car, draw a few calming breaths, and then flip the visor down. I’m a mess. I wipe away the makeup that was ruined by crying.
There’s a reason I don’t come here often: it’s too damn hard.
My phone pings with a text.
Stephanie: Are you coming to visit today?
Me: Of course.
Stephanie: See you soon?
Me: I’m on my way now. Just leaving the cemetery.
Stephanie: Tell Mom and Dad I miss them.
I close my eyes and try not to think about the fact that I lost it over her impending death.
Me: I did. They love you and miss you.
Stephanie: Glad they told you that . . . LOL.
My lips turn into a smile and a giggle slips from me. I can picture her rolling her eyes at me.
The drive to the hospital takes about ten minutes, all of which I use to collect myself and put my mask firmly back in place. If she sees that I’ve been crying, she’ll do what she can to tell me about her acceptance of her fate. That isn’t what I need to hear . . . ever.
Sometimes, I wonder if she would rather it happen already so she can stop suffering. I’m too selfish for that. I want every minute I can get with her. I’ll take a hundred bad days as long as I can touch her, talk to her, and keep her close.
I enter the room and completely freeze. Stephanie is flirting with a male nurse. He’s sitting on her bed, and her eyes move down as she smiles. I watch as she bats her eyelashes and tucks her brown hair behind her ears like I do when I’m nervous.
Then Stephanie’s gaze shifts, and she spots me. “Heather!” She jumps, and the man leaps to his feet. “Hey! I didn’t see you there.”
I grin. “I see that.”
“This is Anthony,” Steph says with a sigh. “He’s my daytime nurse and friend.”
Oh, boy. I’ve seen this look before. This must be why she isn’t fighting her doctor to be discharged anymore.
“Hi, Anthony,” I say as I walk forward. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“I just finished my shift and was checking on her,” he explains, as if I haven’t already gotten his number.
“That’s awfully nice of you.” I look over at Steph, still grinning.
She gives me a look that clearly tells me to stop it. I haven’t seen her even look at a man since she was diagnosed with Huntington’s all those years ago.
“Well, she’s a huge comic book fan, and I promised to show her my latest collector edition Superman I bought yesterday.”
“Yes,” Steph interjects and touches his arm. “He got the one I was looking for online.”
“Really?” I bury my skepticism deep. Stephanie has never touched a comic book.
“Yes, Heather.” Her eyes narrow, and she purses her lips. “Anthony is going to let me see it tomorrow.”
Oh, I get it.
“I’ll let you visit with your sister, Stephy, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Anthony squeezes her hand and moves toward me. “It was great to meet you. She talks about you a lot.”
“It was nice to meet you also,” I reply as he walks away.
As soon as he’s down the hall, I rush over to her side, and we both laugh. “Comic books? Stephy? You hate that nickname! You are in so deep if you’re already being all dorky.”
“Shut up!” She slaps my arm. “I’m not dorky. I’m doing what normal girls do when they like a guy. He’s cute. He kept coming to check my vitals way more than necessary, and I don’t know . . . I wanted someone to talk to.”
“I think it’s great,” I say to assure her. “And I am too normal.”
“Yeah, you’re normal my ass,” Steph retorts.
She’s right, I’m totally not normal.
“Anyway, I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there a little.”
I love that she’s getting some human interaction other than with Brody and me. Nicole checks in on her once in a while, but usually it’s just the people in the home and me. She has no friends that are around anymore, which is sad but unsurprising. Most people don’t stick around long when something this serious happens. Not because they are cruel or uncaring. They just didn’t know what to say or how to handle themselves. I understand to some extent, but I hate it for her.
Unfortunately, it’s made it so there’s a great amount of loneliness that my sister struggles with. I can take her anger, knowing it isn’t really her, it’s her illness. What I can’t stomach is the thought of her feeling lonely. It breaks me in ways that I would sell my soul to prevent.
“I know there’s no future,” Her face falls, and her tone becomes sullen.
“Stop.” I shake her hand. “You’re allowed to have friends, and if you both like comic books, then let it happen.”
She laughs. “Can you go buy me a comic book so I know what they look like?”
I burst into laughter. “Sure thing.”
Stephanie looks away as her exhilaration fades. “I don’t want to get attached.”
“Babe, he’s a nurse, he knows what he’s getting into.”
Of all the possible people she could have met, I’m happy it’s him. He probably understands better than anyone what her future looks like.
“May—” she starts to say and begins to cough, which is deep and wet and sends me straight into panic mode.
I rub her back as she gets control. “I’ll get the doctor,” I say, but she grips my arm.
“No, it’s fine. It’s just from the air conditioner. I had them fix it.”
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s fine. See? I’m fine.”
She crosses her arms across her chest and waits for me to relax. I hate that I fuss over her so much, but I can’t help it. I feel like my vigilance is the only thing keeping her alive. I’m not going to quit now.