Today is a bad day. She’s struggling to string words together and is getting frustrated.
I wait and then the words burst out. “Settle in! I want to be in this hellhole alone.”
“I am listening. I haven’t really been with you a lot lately.” I try to explain. “I love you, Steph.”
She starts to cough and swats my hand away. “You were at the hospital every single day. I’m asking for a d-d-day to myself! Why is that so hard for y-you? Why can’t you let me be alone?”
I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m trying here. I’m doing the best I can.”
It breaks my heart when she’s like this. I never know what will happen, and fighting with her literally kills me. If tomorrow never comes, I don’t want this to be our last conversation. Whenever it goes down this path, I have to swallow my hurt and anger. I hide the pain and do what I can to try to turn this around. I know what regret feels like, and I never want that for us.
Stephanie goes quiet for a few minutes, touches my shoulder, and then releases a heavy breath. “I hate this f-f-fucking disease!” Tears fill her eyes, and I pull her in my arms. “You sh-shouldn’t have to be around me. I’m mean!”
Rocking back and forth with her in my arms allows me to keep my own tears at bay. It isn’t her fault that she’s having a bad day. It’s the way it goes. Her symptoms are worsening, and we both know it. The outbursts have become more frequent over the last few months, her speech is declining, and the medicine isn’t doing as much for her tremors. Yesterday, the doctor told me frankly that this is the beginning of the decline.
“You’re not mean, you’re doing the best you can.” I know this isn’t her fault.
“I didn’t want to come back here. I wanted to stay at the hospital for longer.”
“Why?” I ask and take her hand in mine. “You hate the damn hospital.”
“I miss Anthony. I liked seeing him every day. I liked knowing he’d stop by the room and talk to me like I wasn’t this poor d-dying girl. He saw me as a girl, woman, whatever . . . the point is that he saw me, Heather. Not the tremors, locking joints, problems remembering . . .”
I hate that anyone sees her that way at all.
“Did you call him?” I ask.
Anthony has been good for her. He was in her room after his shift each day, bringing her comic books and flowers. The bouquet of varying shades of vibrant purple and pink roses with plush hydrangeas mixed in that he brought her was breathtaking. I tried not to make a big deal of it, but the fact that Anthony cared so much made my heart swell.
“No, I’m not going to make him watch me die.” Stephanie is stubborn. She always has been, and I worry she’ll push him away without a chance of any happiness. On the other hand, I can’t imagine what knowing she is dying and having people she loves watch feels like to her.
What can I even say to that? She’s allowed to make her choices, and I have to understand that. Even though I think she’s wrong.
“I wish you’d tell him how you feel. He brought you flowers, and by the looks of it, he cares for you.”
I understand that Stephanie has her own set of issues, far more than I can comprehend, but it doesn’t mean she should just give up.
She snorts. “Okay, whatever. First, the flowers aren’t from him, which I’ve said three times. I told you they just appeared in my room. Second, is that what you’re doing with Eli? Are you telling him how much you want to spend time with him? Are you giving him even the slightest inclination of how much you actually like the guy? No? I didn’t think so.” Gone is the anger in her voice, all I hear now is challenge.
I guess it’s like the saying about glass houses and throwing stones. But it’s different for me. He’s complicated, rich, famous, and doesn’t live here. Why am I going to let myself get tangled in some crazy mess? I’m not.
Do I like him? Yup.
Do I wish I didn’t? Yup.
Does he listen to anything I’ve said regarding what he can expect? Absolutely not. He wormed his way in, and I’m pretty sure he has no intention to leave.
“It’s not the same. He’s got too many question marks around him.”
“You’re allowed to love again. You love me and I’m a giant unknown.”
Loving Stephanie was never a choice, it was absolute. Even with knowing the ending of our story, I wouldn’t make different choices. With Eli, I’m not there yet. I don’t have to let it get that far. Loving another gives them power, it can be beautiful, fulfilling, and as easy as breathing, but if I lose it again, it will destroy me.
I twist the fabric of my shirt in my hands, feeling the threads loosen and notice the similarities in my own life. Each time I think I’m together and secured, something starts to break the bond, and I tear.
“I won’t let myself fall for him, Steph. I like him, I won’t lie, but he’s leaving soon. His life isn’t in Tampa. I’m not moving. I’m not leaving you.”
“It’s going to be me who leaves you, Heather. I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but we both know it’s coming.” A tear falls down her cheek and another follows suit.
“Don’t say that.” I beg.
“It’s the truth, and you have to come to terms with it.”
Tears spring in my eyes. I don’t want to lose my sister. The thought of living in a world without her is intolerable. I’ve lost more than any person should, and life isn’t done taking from me yet. Stephanie, she’s mine. I’ve cared for her, watched her grow, packed her lunch, dressed her for prom, and the idea that I won’t have her in my life is too much.
Sometimes it’s all just too much.
“We have time.” I will the words to be true.
“I’m saying that when I go, I want to know you’re okay. Don’t you get it? As much as you love me, I love you more. You are my whole heart, and you have no idea how much anger I have inside me about this d-d-disease. It’s taken everything from you, Heather. It took your money, your husband, your whole life! I need to know you have someone!”
“Stop it! Stop it right now!” I yell back at her, swiping the tears from my cheek. “We’re not going to do this.”
“We have to do this. We have to talk about it.”
I don’t want to. I want to forget and enjoy what time we have. I get to my feet and move around the room, trying to stop the tears that keep falling. I turn my back to her, looking out the window. Maybe I’m weak, but it’s easier than facing her. “I can’t lose you.” My voice cracks with so much pain that I could splinter.
“Heather, look at me.” I turn and meet her blue eyes that shimmer with unshed tears. “You will never lose me. We didn’t lose Mom and Dad, we just can’t see them anymore.”
This time, it’s my hands that are trembling. I move closer and reach out to touch her face. “I love you so much.”
“I know,” she murmurs.
“I hate this.”
“Me, too.”
“Do you forgive me for yelling? Are we good?”
Steph smiles and takes my hand. “If you want me to be good, you have to promise me you’ll stop pushing everyone away. You have to tell me that you’ll let your heart be open. Can you do that?”