Page 152 of How You See Me
I draw in the scent of her shampoo. Flowers and candy. Innocent things. Things that don’t belong at the edge of heartbreak. And suddenly I can’t tell whether I’m holding her up or she’s holding me.
Eventually, we pull apart, and move through the airport to the car in silence.
“There are some things you should know before going in,” she says, after we pull onto the highway minutes later.
The warning in her voice is worse than anything she could say outright, reminding me of my last text conversation with Mom. Rather, her chiming in long enough to ensure I don’t lash out and make it harder on everyone. My father may be the last person I want here, but it still hurts to know she doesn’t trust me to keep that to myself around my baby sister.
“Ava isn’t the same little girl she was when you left.” She glances sideways at me. “She can handle her sisters upset or scrambling for hope but not you.”
“Shit.” The word comes out as a whisper, breaking apart on my tongue.
I grip my knees, swallow back a scream or a sob or both. I can’t let either emotion out or the fragile cagekeeping me upright might snap. My jaw locks shut as I stare out the window at nothing.
Raidyn gives me a few minutes before breaking the silence. “Her heart condition—”
“Did they confirm it?”
“Yes.” She sighs. “It’s cardiotoxicity, a condition caused by her chemotherapy. It could cause muscle damage, weakness, abnormal heart rhythms . . .” Her practiced nurse tone from years in the field yields. “Heart failure.”
“Failure?” I can’t feel my lungs. Raidyn’s still talking but her voice fades into a white noise, like the world muted itself to save me from myself.
“Get it out now,” she says.
I pound the dashboard, once, twice, three times. It doesn’t help. There’s not enough space to absorb the rage. My pain has no outlet. I wish to rip the universe apart and stitch it back together without this in it.
“Why the fuck is this happening?” I rasp. “She’s a kid.”
Raidyn doesn’t move. Just drives with her hands glued too tightly around the steering wheel, knuckles pale. That alone tells me everything I need to know.
“She doesn’t want pity, Hayes. She needs normal, laughter, love.”
I nod slowly. Raidyn’s right, and I need to reset my thoughts to what’s most important. “She’ll have it as long as I’m still breathing. Is there anything they can do to help?”
She says something about the cardiologist, tests, and maybe more meds, more monitoring—but I can’t followany of it. All I can think about is Ava’s tiny arms wrapped around my neck before I left, her voice still trying to be cheerful, still calling me Haysie as if everything was fine. Like she wasn’t chained to the house or the hospital, fighting for every damn minute she got on this side of the dirt.
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes, hoping to find a sense of calm. As Raidyn said, Ava can’t see me like this. She’s counting on me to be the strong one, her big brother, her hero. I’m supposed to protect her.
But I can’t scare off leukemia or heart failure. I’m as useless as the jar of rocks in my bag.
Silence creeps in again. It’s heavier this time. Too damn heavy.
“Also, when you’re ready . . .” She pauses, surely to examine whether I can handle whatever she’s about to throw at me. “Dad wants to talk to you.”
Nope. I will never be ready for that.
Bitterness takes form and bursts from me as a chuckle. Sounds better than what I’d prefer to say. “Good for him.”
“Hayes.”
“I’m serious. What he wants doesn’t mean shit to me.”
She glares at me over her sunglasses.
“What? Do I have to hide my feelings from you, too?”
“No, but—”
“Then, fuck him.” There it is. That feels better.
