Page 128 of Fly with Me

She took a bite of her sandwich and then chewed for several minutes while considering how to respond to the version of Jake who existed in her head. “I think I’m going to be happy with what we have.”

But are you happy or going to be happy?

“I am happy.”

Well, then I’m happy for you, Olive.

“I… wish you had this. When you were here.”

I know you do.

Olive didn’t know what else to say.

Have you gotten that therapist yet?

It was one of the last questions he’d asked her in real life too. Therapy had changed his life, so of course he wanted it to help his sister who was afraid of everything. She’d gotten her daily antidepressant from her primary care doc and then forgotten the promise that she’d look for someone to talk to. Looking was overwhelming. Sometimes everything was overwhelming.

At least Jake-in-her-brain had been proud of her when she checked things off the list. She’d come here after every trip to a national park. After everything she’d done that had stretched her idea of what she could do despite all the nature-related catastrophes.

But she still felt empty.

He wasn’t here.

Jake was just a fucking memory.

Voices in the hallway carried into the room as footsteps approached. A familiar voice rose above the rest.

“Shit,” Olive hissed.

She folded up the rest of her sandwich in the greasy paper while muttering several more curses. She flipped off the music, and braced herself. Every muscle was taut, as if she were the last kid in a dodgeball game waiting for the coordinated attack.

Her mother wrinkled her nose at the smell of the sandwich as she entered the room. “What is that?”

Olive spoke in a small voice. “It was Jake’s favorite.”

“Oh.” Her mother leaned down and kissed her brother’s forehead. “Hi, honey.” The tenderness was gone as quickly as it came, vanishing completely as her eyes settled on the trash in Olive’s hands. “Are you almost done here?”

“Uh… yeah.” Olive stood and backed away from the chair. “I didn’t think you usually came on Mondays. Don’t you usually have appointments?”

Olive’s mother’s words were clipped. “The office closed early today. We needed to have some plumbing work done.”

“Oh. Okay. Everything’s okay with the practice?”

“Yes.” Her mother sat in the chair Olive had vacated. She scooted it all the way to the bed. She held Jake’s hand, kissing his knuckle. She refused to make eye contact with Olive.

Olive crumpled the sandwich wrapper into a tighter ball. “What did the other specialist you called say about Jake’s scans? Heather said—”

“Why are you even asking? You’ve already made up your mind. I know that we think so completely differently about what preserving a life means, so why would you even ask me about this?” Her mom’s voice was flatter than usual.

“I’m asking because I know it’s important to you to get answers.” She’d almost made the mistake of saying closure.

“That other doctor was a quack.” That familiar bite came back into her voice. “That doctor from the family meeting said he was getting worse, but look at him.” Her mom gestured to Jake. “He looks much better. Color in his cheeks. I know he’s in there.” She stroked his face once.

“Okay.”

Her mom would find another doctor and another.

Olive gathered her things and took a step toward the door.

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