Page 16 of Come Break My Heart Again

Nina delivers that news in the same matter-of-fact way she always speaks. The same brisk manner I used to find abrasive and now appreciate.

My palm presses against my mouth to keep any sound from escaping as I stare down at my pale knees. The hot prickle of tears stabs at my eyes like tiny swords. I look up, blinking rapidly, to watch a sailboat’s slow progress across the water. Disbelief spreads, numbing my senses. The sun’s warmth and the smell of seafood fade away, my awareness narrowing to nothing except the terrible news.

“I’m so sorry, Nina,” I choke out. “Have you started treatment? Is there?—”

“I lost most of my dignity chasing clueless boys in baggy jeans,” she tells me. “I’d like to leave this world with what little I have left. Not the way I entered it—bald and unable to sit up on my own.”

Despite—or maybe because of—the serious topic, a laugh bursts out. “You don’t know that?—”

Again, she interrupts. “I do know. The doctors know.”

There’s a clink of china in the background, and I’m certain she brewed a cup of tea before making this call. That she’s sitting at the square kitchen table and sipping from a floral-patterned cup. I can picture it so clearly in my mind, like I’m sitting across from her right now.

Pain lances through my chest when I realize Nina called to tell me memories are all I’ll have of her soon. A year sounds long by some metrics, but it’s also so, so short.

“Please—if there’s anything I can do, anythingat all, please let me know. I’ll be by next weekend, and I can bring whatever you need.”

“Next weekend won’t work, Elle.”

“Oh. Well, I can do the weekend after, if that’s better.”

“I think it might be best if you don’t come by here anymore.” Nina’s voice is gentle, but it does little to soften the hit. Her tone is purposeful, like she’s weighing each word before she speaks it. Like there’s some subtext I’m missing and need to search for.

“Facing this alone isn’t going to make it any easier,” I tell her gently. “I’m sure it’s scary and overwhelming, but anything I can do to help …pleaselet me help.”

A long pause follows.

“I won’t be alone,” Nina finally says.

“But … Cormac isn’t finished with the semester for a couple more weeks.”

Nina’s younger son is in his second year of college at Boston University. Another devastating wave of sadness hits as I look past my own sorrow and remember Nina is leaving a lot more than our monthly visits behind. But I don’t let my thoughts drift any further than Cormac.

“I don’t mean Cormac,” she tells me.

“Oh.Oh,” I realize. “I didn’t know you were … seeing someone.”

Nina barks a laugh. “Dating? I’m dying, dear.”

She says nothing else. I glance toward the table where my parents are seated. Prescott has joined them, my spot the only one sitting empty. But I wait, everything in me insisting this conversation with Nina is more important than lunch.

“I’m … confused,” I admit.

Her exhale is heavy. “Elle … I’m rarely wrong about people. I was wrong about you. You’re stubborn and kind and extraordinary. Everything you’ve done, for me, for Cormac,it will never be forgotten. I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

I’ve never heard Nina sound so unsure. She’s second-guessing each word she says, it sounds like.

“I’m still confused.”

“Ryder made his own choices. I don’t blame you for anything that happened. If it’s ever seemed otherwise, I’m sorry.”

I swallow hard. My throat is starting to close up, making talking difficult. “Why … what are you talking about?”

She’s never brought Ryder up, not since that first day I showed up under false pretenses. And the one mention does nothing to prepare me for Nina’s next words.

“Ryder is getting released next week, Elle.”

4

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