Page 55 of No Place Like You

I shake my head. “No catcher’s net.”

We’ve been sitting off to a corner of the cafeteria, the buzzing sound of hospital workers and other visitors with the bright Visitor tag taped to their chest, like Lucy and I are both wearing right now, surrounding us. We ordered a plate of the mystery meat and steamed vegetables, and a saran wrapped turkey sandwich with potato chips just in case the mystery meat was as awful as it looked. Turns out, the mystery meat, labeled turkey loaf, was pretty good. The remnants of it and the leftover gravy that was poured over it in excess sit on the plate, while the sandwich remains in its plastic wrapping, the chips long gone.

I don’t want to stay too long. Janet will probably wonder where we’ve gone, and, in all honesty, I want to make sure she’s okay after she got her meds. But this…I don’t want to walk away from this either. Lucy and I’ve spent the last hour exchanging stories like they’ve become some sort of interactional currency, one that hasn’t seemed to deplete on my end or hers. In fact, the stories keep coming. When I think I’ve already learned so much about Lucy and her life and her childhood, she has more of herself to give. More opinions, more musings. More pieces of her that make me want even more.

“That was the last time we got in trouble. Like, deep, ‘you’re getting your PlayStation taken away and grounded for three weeks’ sort oftrouble,” I say to the table. “And then…I don’t really remember much about our parents after that. It’s just bits and pieces that stay with me.”

The mood shifts, and I stare at the space between my hand and hers, right next to the scattering of empty plates and crumpled utensil wrappers. Where if I inch just a little closer, I could feel her soothing touch graze over my skin. And maybe this is okay now. After last night and today, maybe we can gently and carefully push back those boundaries we set until we’re both standing on the same side of the line.

Her brow furrows, and she looks at me, a mistiness coating her eyes and the bottom halves of her front teeth peeking through her lips. “The last time I got grounded was when Nat hit a mailbox on a late-night Dairy Queen run. We tried to hide the chipped paint on my dad’s minivan with white nail polish. I guess the Alpine Snow shade was a little too white in contrast to Toyota’s original finish.”

That draws a chuckle out of me, the image of a panicking Nat and Lucy crouched over a crap paint job using nail polish and prayers.

“But, you know,” she continues, “my parents got over it, we paid the damages using our allowance, and things went back to normal. We went back to Dairy Queen as soon as our sentence was up, and my parents just warned us to be careful.” She pauses when her voice cracks. Her eyes start to water, and her mouth twitches into a reflexive frown. “Bu-But, you didn’t get to…Things didn’t go back to normal for you.”

She pauses, looking away from me, and takes a deep breath. “I know you’ve had time to grieve, not that you’re over it. I mean, you’d never be over losing both of your parents at the same time, but you’ve lived with it pretty much your whole life, and you and Janet grew up. I guess what I’m saying is…I’m so sorry, Dex. I can’t imagine what you two went through, and it breaks my heart knowing you two only had each other…Everything Janet had to take on. Everything you had to learn on your own as a child—” Her words are cut off by a soft sob, and I scoot my chair closer to her. I wrap my arm around her, and she lays her head against my shoulder. Her tears start to fall, staining my shirt in fat droplets, and she lets out a loud sniff.

“Hey,” I coax calmly. “I’m okay. I think I turned out pretty good considering. At least I’m not into recreational drugs or…pyramid schemes.” I reach for a napkin and hand it to her. She takes it, dabbing at the loose stream of tears running down her face.

“I should be the one consoling you. Not the other way around,” she says in a watery voice.

“Eh,” I brush off. “It’s nice to switch roles every once in a while. Makes me feel useful.”

She huffs a sad laugh before a fresh wave of tears pools in her eyes. “It’s not funny,” she says, her mouth twitching into another involuntary frown.

“It’s really okay,” I say, smoothing a hand down her arm. “I mean, you’re right, it was a lot to take on and we—it was tough. Like, really tough. But we figured it out, and we’re okay now.”

Lucy sobs again, and I just hold her to me. I know she said she should be the one consoling me considering the situation, but this feels so much more cathartic. Her mourning over my parents’ death and the childhood I didn’t get to have. She understands the extent of what Janet and I went through without me having to lay it out and explain it to her. The level of empathy she carries awes me.

“We should go check on Janet,” she says, pulling away from me, drawing a loud sniff and wiping at her nose. “She’s probably wondering where we went.”

“Yeah,” I answer, smiling at her. It shouldn’t be this easy, this uncomplicated. But despite all of the underlying reasons Lucy and I shouldn’t be in each other’s arms, consoling each other surrounded by the scent of hospital disinfectant and the occasional interruption of PA announcements, it feels like just that: easy.

We collect our trash and walk back toward the elevator. I press a hand to her lower back, and she wraps her arm around my waist.

“Thanks for being here with me,” I say, low enough for only her ears.

She turns to smile at me. “Thank you for bringing me.”

When we get back to Janet’s room, she’s asleep. Charles is curled up in an uncomfortable ball in a chair at her bedside. Lucy and I glance at each other, unsure if we want to disturb either one of them. Just then, Janet stirs and notices us.

“Finally,” she says weakly. “I thought you two found an empty hospital bed.”

Lucy turns beet red, and I glare at my sister. “We were grabbing some food,” I say flatly.

She smirks and stretches into a yawn. “Well, Dr. Pham came by. She said I can probably go home Monday. As long as she can transition me to oral meds instead of this fancy stuff.” She gestures to the IV pole next to her. “She looked pretty happy with my progress.”

“That’s good,” I say quietly, eyeing Charles and taking a few steps closer to her. Lucy follows, staying a step behind me as I perch at the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. I don’t feel as weak and achy like I did when we got here.”

“You look better too,” I say.

“Why don’t you guys go on home,” she says, her eyes moving between me and Lucy. “It’s getting late anyway, and you can always come back tomorrow morning if you want.”

I hesitate, and Lucy does too.

“Really,” Janet assures. She points at the TV. “Jurassic Worldis playing next, and I’m going to ask the nurses for some orange Jell-O. I’ll be in nap mode before the T-Rex fights the abominable rex.”

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