Page 13 of Tear Me Apart
The look Lauren gives is so patently big sister that Juliet starts to laugh. “No, I don’t have afellow. I’ve been much too busy. I don’t have time to meet anyone.”
“You should think about it. You’re not getting any younger, and...”
“No. We are not doing this. I took enough judgment from Mom. How’s Jasper holding up?”
Lauren’s face lights up. Juliet loves Jasper like a brother; seeing Lauren still happy with him after all these years is a balm to her soul.
“He’s fine. We’re struggling, trying to figure out how to balance his work with the hospital. They’re letting him take time off as he needs, but he has so much on his plate he can’t be away indefinitely. He’s heading there now, giving away some cases to the junior associates.”
“I meant, how is he? Really?”
“Terrified,” Lauren whispers, sinking down into the brown leather couch. “How else could he be?”
“I understand. Mindy seems to be handling things well.”
“She was fascinated by the details of the surgery, by the incisions, by the halo, for exactly five minutes. She made me take pictures of it from every angle and show her. She said, ‘Wow, that’s gnarly.’”
“Sounds like her.”
“And then she said, ‘Tell me the truth. I can see something’s wrong. Am I crippled for life or something?’”
Lauren sniffs. “We told her the truth. God, Juliet, she is so strong. Such a champion. ‘I’m going to fight, I’m going to win, I’m going to be back on the slopes in time for the Olympics.’ We didn’t tell her she couldn’t—”
“Good, because you don’t know that. She is a champion, Lauren. She has the heart of ten kids, and the strength of a thousand. She might beat this in one blow.”
Lauren’s eyes close. A tear leaks out.
“I hope you’re right.”
“At the very least, Lauren, you have to let her try. I’m here for you guys. And for Mindy. Anything you need.”
“We appreciate that.”
Lauren’s gone wooden again, formal. She stands, briskly rubbing her hands down her pant legs. “Now, let’s go talk to my willful daughter.”
“Seriously, Lauren, anything I can do.”
“I know. Thank you.” And she bustles out the door, completely composed, together again.
Juliet follows, shaking her head. Her sister is not fine. And neither is her niece.
5
THE WRIGHTS’ HOUSE
THREE WEEKS LATER
Mindy watches the FIS coverage of the World Cup event in Lake Louise with professional detachment. Shiffrin looks sharp as ever and takes the downhill by over a second, and Mindy bites back the jealousy. Mindy should be in that spot. She can taste the Canadian snow, feel the bone-deep cold, the chattering of her skis on the ice. Except she’s stuck in Vail, cozy warm in her bedroom, not out there with her teammates. It sucks.
At least they let her out of the hospital. She was going mad in there. The constant noise and the bright lights and the needles at all hours... Home is better.
Mindy switches off the television, sends a text of congratulations, ignoring the knot in her stomach. It’s bad enough she’s out for the season, that her chances to be included on Team USA are questionable. She is sick of it all. The coddling. The lack of movement. The pain that sits deep in her bones, like the worst workout hangover she’s ever had, but the pain isn’t the good kind, when you’re sore from overexertion. This is wrong. Alien. She’s felt it for a while, for at least a couple of months before the trials, but having a name on it makes it so much worse.
Cancer.
She is pissed. She is pissed at the world. Pissed at her parents, and the doctor, and the damn rod in her leg, and the therapists who won’t let her do anything more than gently ride the bike with her good leg only and stretch her arms over her head. Pissed at the idea of an unseen creature eating her from the inside out, at the underlying nausea that persists no matter what antiemetics they give her, at the strange hollowness she feels when she wakes every morning, like she’s slowly emptying inside.
Thank God for Aunt Juliet. At least someone treats her normally.
