Page 24 of Sweet Nothings

I’m falling apart. Maybe what they write in novels is true.

The pain swirls and transforms in her eyes. With the way our brother effortlessly ruined our family’s reputation, it’s difficult for Roe to trust. Same could be said for me.

“Of course.” I swallow the rock in my throat.

“Please. The last thing we need is for a rumor to spread about how one of the Branford daughters is sick and they can’t afford treatments. After the publicity covering Kellan’s case, and Mom and Dad’s death years ago, this will only make it worse. I refuse to be the victim in a family already suffering from greed and grief.” She wraps her hands around mine and squeezes them. I feel absolutely helpless. I want to take her pain away. I want to wake up and realize this is all a very, very bad dream. But it isn’t.

Her hands wrapped around mine are real, and the drying tears on her cheeks are cold, hard evidence.

Resentment and rage bubble to the surface. I don’t often think about Kellan. After his sentencing, I made a promise to myself to never think about him or talk to him again. The sting of what he did only worsened our parents’ deaths. He’d taken the legacy our father had built and completely destroyed it.

“I know it isn’t fair to ask you,” Roe continues. “But you and Steven are the only ones who need to know. At least for now.”

“But what about the money?”

“I told you.” She gives me a weak, reassuring smile. “I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry.”

“But what happens if you don’t?” I’m not entirely sure I want to know her answer. Or maybe I already know it. I just don’t want to hear it spoken out loud into existence.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and runs her thumb across the back of my hand. “The probability of me surviving the chemo and surgery is low, Laurel. It might not even work.”

“Don’t say that!” I cry, pulling her close. I cradle her head in my hands and hold her against my chest. Her small arms wrap tightly around me. I’ve never seen Roe this vulnerable. This scared.

I hold my sister until her tears have dried and her shoulders have stopped shaking. Insistent on going home, Roe eventually leaves my apartment an hour later. She never did eat her muffin. I toss it in the trash and slide the plate in the dishwasher. The echo of our conversation vibrates against the walls, and I find myself crawling into bed before the sun has completely gone down.

It takes me longer than usual to fall asleep.

I lie curled under the safety of my sheets, but when I close my eyes, all I see is Roe. I see all the times she was there for me growing up. I see her teaching me how to write my name. I see her placing flowers in my hair for prom. I even see her positioning my matching birthday crown on my head the night of my nineteenth birthday.

But amidst all the memories rolling through my mind like a movie reel, worry and reality nestle in between each clip. My stomach wobbles with the uncertainty of the future, and thinking about the future makes me think of my mother, then thinking about my mother makes it a struggle to breathe.

Unable to stop my thoughts, I scramble out of bed looking for a solution and check my bank accounts. Every single one. There’s enough to help Roe with her surgery, but it would take all the money I have. Fiery anger burns in my chest, my hate for my brother Kellan growing. It’s been two years since he was convicted, but the pain and agony he caused our family hasn’t waned. The damage he left behind hasn’t faded. If only Kellan hadn’t stolen my inheritance, Roe would have all the money she would need.

When my eyes feel like they’re about to pop out of my head, I slap my laptop shut and climb back into bed. I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling, replaying the movie of today in my mind. But when my brain finally decides to shut off, and the movie comes to its climactic end, my eyes grow heavy. And before my mind completely fades to black, one more thought creeps in.

No matter what, I’ll find a way to help Roe. Because I’ll do anything for those I love.

EIGHT

I haven’t been able to sleep.

My skin is sticky, and the sheets cling to my body as if I climbed into bed after walking down the street on a misty Boston summer morning. The air in my apartment is thick and heavy. I throw my blanket aside, slip out of bed, and walk like a zombie across my bedroom. After opening both windows, my face is met with a cool breeze. I close my eyes and savor the sense of peace it temporarily gives me.

When I’m satisfied, I trudge back over to my bed and crawl back under the sheets, leaving the windows open. My skin is no longer damp, with goosebumps from the cool, dry air now pouring into my room and sending a shiver down my spine.

I don’t know how long I slept, but the quiet, dark street in front of my building tells me it was probably only a few short hours.

My mind wanders to Roe. Her visit earlier comes crashing back like a wave rolling onto the shore, rough and untamed. I’ve never seen Roe suffer from more than a stuffy nose or a sore throat. But this is a sickness that isn’t as insignificant as the common cold. Cancer eats away at muscle, bone, tissue, and soul until either one concedes. And that’swithtreatment.

Roe might not get it unless we find a way.

I swipe my current read from my nightstand, hoping it will take my mind off the helplessness and pain I’m feeling.

Cracking it open, I read the first line.

I read it again.

Then I read it again.

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