Page 31 of The Kid Sister

“I can’t go and see him,” Cullen said, his voice cracking as he drew back from Mom. “They won’t let me visit until tomorrow.”

“Hey,” Sawyer was on his feet, his hand on Cullen’s shoulder with a reassuring pat, if not a lack of eloquence, “that sucks. But I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

That prompted me out of my seat—I could do better than that, and I couldn’t bear to see Cullen in pain.

“Hey,” I said, “I’m so sorry.” I shuffled up to him, wrapping my arms around him, a friendly embrace, soothing, sympathetic, meant to comfort. Only the comfort was all mine. Two large hands pressed against my back causing heat to radiate throughout my body, a warmth rushing through me, down to my tiniest toes in my mismatched socks. There was a sense that time was passing, that the hug was extending longer than was appropriate but I seemed unable to act upon it, happy in the cocoon, ignoring the commands that were racing through my head:That’s enough!andPull away!

“I’m sure your Granddad will recover soon,” I said.

“Yes,” I heard Mom say, which led to a brisk separation. “Do you know if he needs surgery, Cullen?”

Cullen clasped his hands, twisting them around like he was uncertain what to do with them. “Uh, yeah, apparently he has to have a stent put in to unblock his arteries.”

“Oh dear,” Mom murmured. She invited Cullen to sit down, but he said he’d already eaten and, as we were almost done, she suggested he might want to relax in the den. The den was basically the kids’ living room, where we could watch our own tv and movies rather than sit through the boring crime shows that Mom and Dad preferred.

“I’m done,” I said, disregarding the carrots and green beans on my plate. Mom knew I hated cooked carrots!

“What about your veggies?” Mom said, but I was already taking my plate to the dishwasher, mouthing to her, “We can’t leave Cullen alone.”

Cullen hadn’t turned on the television, he was sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees. It didn’t seem right that I was feeling so good after that hug when he was clearly miserable.

“Cullen? Are you okay?”

He looked up, his lips attempting to curl upwards. “Yeah,” he said, but his eyes said otherwise, holding a sadness, a gloom that went beyond his grandfather’s news.

I sat on the corner of the sectional couch, our knees facing each other. “I hope your Granddad gets better soon. He’s always at the games.”

“Yeah, he is.” He paused, his gaze flitting to the door, before saying, “Mom didn’t even tell us. She didn’t want todisrupttraining.” He held his hands up, exaggerating air quotes. "Does that seem weird?”

I shrugged, unsure of what to say. I think I would want to know straight away if any of my grandparents had a heart attack.

He lowered his voice, but within seconds it had risen. “It’s like football is everything. But is it? Granddad had a freaking heart attack and we carry on with training like nothing’s happened.”

Feeling the need to appease his frustration, I leaned forward. “They probably just didn’t want you to worry until they knew for sure how he was.”

We both stared at my hand resting on his knee, the hand that had acted totally independently, of its own accord, our eyes slowly lifting to one another. Withholding a sharp inhale, my chest filled and I bit down on my lower lip, thinking I should pull my hand away—right now!—but no movement occurred. It was like superglue held us together. Two pieces of a puzzle snapped into place.

“Hey! What’s going on?” Sawyer’s intrusion burst the perfect moment of serenity, my breath expelled in a gasp and my hand snatched back.

“Just talking,” I said, placing my hands under me so they couldn’t wander without my permission.

“I really hope your granddad will be okay,” Sawyer said.

“Yeah, me too,” Cullen said.

“Hey man, I’ve gotta get my history assignment done. I’m so behind. Are you guys okay without me for a bit?”

“Yeah, hey, I should go anyway,” Cullen said, shifting to the edge of the seat.

“See you tomorrow. And if ya need me, call.”

“Thanks,” Cullen said. “Appreciate it.”

I waited until Sawyer had left the room before I freed my hands, and then I waited for Cullen to get up and leave.

But he didn’t. He sunk back into the couch, legs outstretched, and his eyes misted over.

“Granddad’s done so much for me,” he said, trying to steady his shaky voice. “And all I can think about is all the times I didn’t go and visit him.”

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