Page 249 of The Sleep With Your Enemy's Sister Situation

“Why don’t we paint?”

“I don’t know what to paint.”

“That’s the best time to do it.”

She motioned with her right hand and I knew better than to argue.

I followed Demi back to the sunroom.

I saw that her hands began to shake. Really bad.

She struggled to set up an easel and blank canvas for me.

More than once she paused and hugged her hands to her chest.

Finally…

“Demi, does it hurt?” I whispered.

She looked at me, her eyes glossy. “Sometimes everything does, Fiona.”

“Well that just broke my heart,” I said.

“How cliché would it be to stand here and tell you life is short? I think everyone says that to one another. Nobody hears it anymore. So maybe I can talk about other things.”

“Getting older?”

“Not even that. Just never knowing what’s next. It’s a thrill and a terror, Fiona. Sometimes it’s nice to share both with someone else.”

“Ah. This is you trying to convince me to call my brother? Or call Riff? Which one is more important?”

Demi smirked. “Is that attitude I’m getting from you?”

“Maybe it is, Demi. Want me to leave?”

She stepped closer to me, reached up and touched my left cheek with a shaking right hand.

“You didn’t flinch,” she whispered.

“Why would I flinch?”

“A stranger touching your face.”

“You’re not a stranger to me.”

“Someone like me. Shaking. Diseased. Dying.”

“No, Demi. You’re none of that. Did you think I would scream, run and hide and think you can spread Parkinson’s to me?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

I reached and gently touched Demi’s hand.

Demi nodded. “You’re special, Fiona. Let’s paint.”

Demi backed away and I was left to face an easel all to myself.

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