Page 55 of Oyster

“Take them away, Nic,” barked my dad. “They’ve said their goodbyes. You all have. Let me… let… I’ll stay.”

“Éti’s bringing the car around now.”

We loitered outside the hospital entrance, breathing in the chilly night air. Zoë clung to my front like nothing else held her up. A couple of feet away, leaning against a wall and a large "no smoking" sign, Max puffed on a roll-up. The sky stretched for miles tonight, clear and beautiful. I’d yank down each perfect star, if I could, and stamp out their hopeful twinkles with my feet.

“She’s… listen. You’re going to recognise Éti. But just park that for now, okay?”

Whatever. Max took another long drag and carried on staring at his feet, and Zoë blew her nose. I could have told them my girlfriend was a green alien with three heads, tumbled down to earth from one of those distant and too fucking pristine stars, for all the notice they took.

The black SUV glided to the kerb, Éti barely visible through the tinted glass, her baseball cap slung low, loose hair shielding her face. Bundling Zoë and Max into the back, I wedged myself between them. With his face pasted to the window, Max hunched into a corner as if he couldn’t get far enough away from us all, while Zoë hunched into me, her wet eyes screwed shut. Éti shot me a look filled with every fucking tender thing we couldn’t say in front of my siblings, and we set off.

Half an hour of silence, except for Zoë’s sniffles, and we were home. Or back to what used to feel like a home. Now, with the curtains closed and the porch shrouded in darkness, it was nothing but a cold and empty brick shell, four walls, a roof, and some windows. Sensing I wasn’t ready for her to leave, but hesitant whether to follow, Éti trailed cautiously after us.

“Can you keep an eye on Max while I go upstairs with Zoë?”Guard the door. Don’t let him run off into the night. Don’t let him near the tractor keys.

Somehow, I communicated all that with my eyes.

“Yes, anything. I’ll do whatever you need.”

Zoë cried herself to sleep—it didn’t take long. Face down, she sobbed wild, loud, ugly tears until oblivion took over. I had no magical soothing words of comfort to offer; the only person able to put an end to those tears was the cause of them. I slumped in a chair, envying her body’s acceptance of how she felt. How it opened up to let the hurt drain away. Mine and Max’s tears were like rain clouds, growing heavier, pressing behind our eyes, pushing down on our hearts. Like our bodies were too embarrassed to admit their suffering.

“Don’t tell me to go to bed,” said Max fiercely after I tucked Zoë up and returned downstairs. “I’m sitting here until he phones and tells us she’s gone.”

Grand Theft Autoplayed out on the telly; glued to it, my brother threw himself around the mean streets of Los Santos at dizzying speeds. Jabbing at the controller, his body language defied me to suggest otherwise. I blew out a long breath.

“Do what you like, mate.”

From the sofa at right angles to him, Éti’s worried eyes landed on me, and I sank down next to her at last, broken and shattered and so unprepared. Her arms came up, pulling me close. I rested my head on her shoulder, a shelter for my grief.

“I know who you are, by the way,” said Max, in a voice edged with contrariness. “Trying to hide under that cap. Why didn’t you tell us, Nico? While Mum’s been dying, why didn’t you tell us you’ve been hanging out with Étienne Salvador? Pretending you had some fancy girlfriend? Are you fucking him?”

In an instant, I was up on my feet, ready to punch him. “You nasty frigging piece of shit.” I could swallow the silences, the mood swings, the fucking disappearing tricks, even the snide dig at me. But not a swipe at Éti. Not that. Not now and not ever.

A firm hand gripped my shirt tugging me back down. “Hey, that’s not helpful, Nico. It’s okay. Let him get it off his chest.”

Éti’s hand found mine, giving it a squeeze, and Max’s hard gaze flicked up at us both. “That’s cute. No wonder you rushed off up to Paris. Did you actually give a shit she was dying?”

Swift and graceful, Éti rose from the sofa. “Turn the TV off, please, Max. And stand up.” Her tone was soothing and commanding all at once, the kind of voice accustomed to being listened to and obeyed. My brother was no exception, although he took his time about it. I itched to punch him.

“I’m Éti,” she said and held out her hand. “Not Étienne. So please, I’d be very grateful if you don’t call me that. I would haveliked to have met you under different circumstances and been able to explain. But right now, I’m here to support your brother. And we both want to support you, if you’ll let us.”

Thatweagain. A pair. She said it so lightly, as if unaware of its weight and the succour I devoured from it.

Like sharpened knives, my brother’s suspicious eyes darted between the two of us.

“You’re the woman from the beach, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Éti nodded. “I am. I’m trans. We can talk about that too, if you like, but not now. I want to be your friend, Max, which means you can’t tell anyone about me. Okay?”

Fuck, my brother looked so young. So full of attitude, masking his fear. And, in the face of Éti’s patient kindness, trying his hardest to be brave. In that moment, I hated him and loved him in equal measure. Her hand went unshaken, but he jerked his chin at her in vague acknowledgement.

“Éti will play GTA with you, Max,” I offered. “If you’re staying up. She’s good at it.”

“Whatever.”

And with that exchange, the most surreal, miserable, and exhausting night of my life unfolded. Watching my girlfriend and brother play a game neither of them could focus upon, waiting for a phone call none of us wanted to answer. But we did of course, the news purveyed by my bewildered, ordinary dad, in a voice which forever onwards would be a fractured echo waiting for a reply that wouldn’t ever come. As if he’d lost a vital piece of himself and had already bled out from the pain.

Afterwards, I fell into Éti’s welcome open arms. My brother did too. She blanketed him in her embrace, she petted his hair, crooned sweet nothings, promised we’d both be there for him. And as he sobbed and wailed and made a most godawful noise, seared on my brain for all time, somewhere in his fucked up,confused, distraught teenaged head, he accepted she was on his side.

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