Page 6 of Years in the Making

“Mom has a cold.” She’s not whispering anymore, but her voice is softer than usual, like she’s worried.

“If it’s just a cold, she’ll be okay, Zo,” I try to reassure her.

“It’s the cough I’m worried about.”

I put my glass down and turn to face her. “How bad is it?”

“It sounds like it’s deep in her lungs. Dad wanted to take her to the hospital, but she was pretty insistent that she was okay.”

“We need to trust her. She’s not a baby,” I say as I turn and open the fridge. “You and Dad worry too much.”

“I think it’s Dad I worry the most for.”

I stop mid-pour and turn back to her. “What do you mean?”

Zoe is twining her fingers and not looking at me. “I worry what will happen when his world is gone.”

“Are you going somewhere? Am I? Hell, is Will? We’re his world too, Zoe. Besides, Mom is fine, and she’s going to be fine for a long time. She’s way too stubborn to let a cold take her down. I guarantee she’ll outlive us all just to prove a point.”

“I hope you’re right.” Zoe smiles at me but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“I am,” I say confidently. “Have a little faith, baby sister.”

“You’re three minutes older than me,” she scoffs, throwing off the arm I’ve lovingly tossed around her shoulders. “Three. Minutes.”

“It counts. If a runner beats another runner by three minutes, they’re faster. I don’t make the rules of time, Zoe.”

“Maybe you were just faster.” She punches my arm before heading back to the couch.

“Faster, older… it’s all the same in the delivery room.” That gets me not one but two middle fingers, and I laugh as I head towards the stairs.

I stop in front of my parents’ door to listen for any signs of illness and only hear a faint cough come from within. It’s not that I don’t worry about my mom; I do. But I don’t let it consume me the way Zoe and my dad do. I think part of me just believes that nothing is going to happen to my mom because Dad takes such good care of her. I shake my head at my ridiculous family as I take the stairs two at a time.

Zoe’s door is ajar, and I stop outside it realizing that she has loads of books and maybe she has one by one of the authors LG recommended. Her room is immaculate—everything in its place, things organized by color or style, and her books by author. Sure enough, I find a book by Kate Culliver, grabit, and hurry off to my room. I sit back in my bed and flip the book to read the synopsis. I debate taking a picture and sending it to LG but decide that seems a bit desperate. I’ll read it and then let her know what I think after.

“Teddy.” I’m being jostled, but I’m unwilling to respond. “Teddy. Goddammit, you’re supposed to be taking Mom to the dentist today.” That has me bolting upright and then scrambling out of bed. “Is that my book?” I look back from my dresser to see Zoe reaching for her once-pristine book, slightly less pristine now. “Why do you have my book?”

“Ugh, a friend recommended the author,” I say, tossing clean clothes onto my bed, hoping she will get the hint and leave. “I’ll replace it.”

She eyes me skeptically but leaves the book where it’s twisted up near my pillow. “What friend?”

“Just a friend. Do you mind? I need to change.”

“You don’t have friends that read. Is it a girl?”

“The friend?”

“No, the reason you’re getting dressed. Yes, dumbass, the friend.”

“Yes, the friend is a girl.” I see her face start to shift teasingly and rush on. “She is just a friend, not a girlfriend. Only one of us in this room has one of those.”

“One of what?” Gaby asks, leaning against my door frame.

“Teddy borrowed one of my books based on the recommendation of a friend who happens to be a girl. And no doubt a friend I’ve never met before.”

“Ooooh.” Gabby’s eyebrows jump. “Intriguing. Who’s thisfriend then, Teddy?”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re perfect for each other. Get out so I can get dressed, please.” Zoe manages to just make it into the hall before I slam the door, but I can hear them laughing as they head downstairs.

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