Page 16 of Before the Storm

“That’s understandable. Remember, your relationship with your sister is a trigger for you,” Stephanie offered. “I want you to be mindful of your feelings today. When times get tough, you can always leave and regroup. I’m sure your sister has doctors, nurses, and care workers. Don’t demand more of yourself than you can give.”

Anger spiked in Tara’s chest. “She’s dying, Stephanie,” she offered. Her arms were tired and hanging off the steering wheel. “I can’t indulge my own petty nature when she might not be around tomorrow.”

“I need you to be mindful of your own heart and mind,” Stephanie said quietly. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“Josie and I have both been through a lot,” Tara said. She sniffed. “I have to go. The traffic is getting bad.” It was a lie, but it got Stephanie off her back for now.

Tara knew she should be grateful for Stephanie. She knew she should welcome the care and commitment Stephanie had to Tara’s growth and mental health. But right now, Tara felt heavy with guilt. Why hadn’t she and Josie spoken for so many years? It all felt like a blur.

The Manhattan skyline was ominous. The city itself felt too dense, thickly packed and staggering. It was hard for Tara to imagine anyone wanting to live here full-time. She drove slowly through screaming taxis, hunting for the parking garage nearest Josie’s apartment building. Snow billowed and melted on her front window, and her windshield wipers worked furiously and squeaked. When she finally cut the engine in the parking garage, she burst into tears and nearly hyperventilated. But she filled her lungs and used some of Stephanie’s tactics to calm her mind.What are five things you can see, hear, and smell right now?In front of her was an SUV with a family sticker on the back window that included the parents, three children, and a scruffy dog. She could smell the city, the snow, and the hot dog truck outside.

Tara hadn’t bought flowers. This suddenly struck her as idiotic. Her sister was very sick; she needed flowers. Rather than go directly to the front door of the apartment building, Tara used her phone to find a flower shop around the corner, where she bought a bouquet of yellow roses and a big box of fudge. She felt even more foolish with the gifts in her arms. But she wanted to use them as a shield between herself and her sister, a way of saying,I’ve been terrible. I’m so sorry. She also wanted to talk her sister into not dying. Who wanted to die when there was fudge to eat? Especially Josie. She loved chocolate.

Outside Josie’s apartment, Tara said her name to the doorman and was directed to the elevator and then to the eleventh floor. It was a relatively modern apartment building with newly painted white walls and contemporary art that confused Tara’s brain and made her think some of it had been hung upside down. Tara wondered if Josie had chosen this apartment building for herself or if it had been her husband’s decision. It was hard to say with Tara’s limited knowledge of the husband.

But the apartment building didn’t feel like Josie. It didn’t feel like her vivacious, gorgeous older sister.

When she reached Josie’s door, Tara hung nervously in the hall for what felt like an eternity. What if Josie was resting? What if she couldn’t come to the door? It was impossible to imagine her sick, and Tara half expected Josie to run to the door, swing it open, and cry out, “I got you! It was all a joke! You’re surprised, huh?” But of course, when Tara rang the bell, she got a text from Josie that just said: It’s unlocked. Come in.

So Tara entered.

The apartment smelled like a hospital. It smelled of bedpans and medicine and sweat. The scents worked in contrast to the big window overlooking Midtown, the fine furniture, and the cool-seeming art that, of course, Tara didn’t fully understand. The apartment couldn’t have been more different from Josie’s first place in downtown Nantucket.

Feeling like a fool, Tara clung to the flowers and fudge and made her way down the hall to the bedroom. A very skinny and frail-looking woman in a big fuzzy hat lay in bed, looking at the ceiling. Her eyes were very small, and her skin was the color of sand.

This is what chemo and radiation did to her, Tara thought. She thought she was going to collapse.

The woman looked nothing like Josie.

At first, Tara wasn’t even sure if Josie was conscious. But then, Josie shifted her head a little bit and croaked, “There she is. My beautiful little sister.”

Tears welled in Tara’s eyes. Although Josie sounded exhausted, it was still her voice. And although Josie looked so frail, that was still her smile. Tara had to fight every instinct not to throw herself over her sister and weep.

“Hi, Big Sis.” Tara put the flowers and fudge on the table by the bed and reached for Josie’s hand. She was so much worse than Tara had imagined her. Maybe she hadn’t properly tried to imagine her. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to.

Every shred of anger Tara had carried around toward Josie melted on the spot.

Tara held Josie’s hand for a few seconds without speaking. They looked at one another. They were mystified.

And then Josie said, “I didn’t think you’d really come.”

Tara’s heart shattered.

“After everything,” Josie said, “I really didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”

Tara blinked rapidly and tried to smile but failed. “I drove here like a maniac.”

Josie laughed. “You were never the best driver.”

Tara stuck out her tongue. “I was fine.”

“You got into two accidents in one month,” Josie reminded her.

“I was sixteen years old!”

But Josie and Tara laughed at the old memory. Tara had come home both times in tears, and their father had consoled her, telling her she’d get the hang of it and it would be all right.

“Dad went easy on me,” Tara remembered.

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