Page 160 of Misery
"Maybe."
I curl against him, seeking comfort that can't quite fill the Helle-shaped hole in my chest.
But, before I can even think, my phone buzzes.
Text from Mom:
Helle says she's transferring to UT Austin. Says it's a better program for her major. Did you know about this?
I text back:
She mentioned it. It's a good opportunity. Better weather too.
The lie feels necessary.
One last way I can protect my little sister.
One last lie to keep my family sane.
She seemed upset at dinner.
Big changes are hard.
Yes. They are. Will you visit her with me? When she's settled?
Of course.
I wonder if Mom knows. Really knows.
She's perceptive, has had to be to survive Dad and this life.
But maybe she's choosing not to know.
Maybe that's its own kind of strength.
The strength to not look too closely at things that would break your heart.
"She'll be okay," Oskar says again.
"You don't know that."
"No. But I know running toward something is better than running from it. And maybe that's what she's doing. Running toward who she's supposed to be instead of who this life would make her."
"That's very philosophical for you."
We just hold each other while spring sounds fill the darkness.
I think about Helle, wondering where on the road she is.
Think about the life she's leaving and the one she's heading toward.
Think about choices and consequences, and the way this life takes its pound of flesh from everyone, just in different ways.
From me, it took innocence and privacy.
From Helle, it took belonging and home.
From our parents, it took their children, one to violence and one to exile.
