Tear Me Apart

by J. T. Ellison

She realizes she is running her thumbnail over the skin of her forearm, hard enough to leave a long, deep red scratch.

  Stop that. For heaven’s sake, stop.

  She pulls down her sleeve and licks her lips, takes a deep breath in through her nose, then goes back to her daughter’s side. As she walks the long hallway, she calls Juliet.

  * * *

  Mindy watches her mother come back in the room, eyes red and frightened, and something clicks.

  Liesel.

  L.

  Lauren.

  The Sound of Music has always been their thing. Liesel is the name of the eldest daughter, the one who is having a secret affair with the young soldier who is her unknown enemy.

  Perhaps there was a reason why her mother has the letter, after all.

  7

  CBI LAB

  DENVER, COLORADO

  Juliet is deep into a DNA run, the lab clicking and whirring around her, when her assistant, Bai, shouts that her sister is on the phone. Without missing a step, she tells him to transfer the call to the lab and put it on Speaker. She doesn’t want to contaminate herself and have to start from scratch; she is in a delicate portion of her process.

  Lauren is breathless, and Juliet can tell she’s been crying. Her voice is thick and she sounds stuffy.

  She halts her machine. “Lauren? What’s wrong?”

  “How quickly can you get here?”

  “What’s happened?”

  “The cancer is getting worse. The doctor just came to see us. They have to move forward with a stem cell transplant right away. He asked for you to come. They want to get as close a match as they can.”

  “Do you or Jasper match?”

  “I don’t know yet. Insurance wouldn’t let them test us until it was necessary. Dr. Oliver’s been optimistic, and she’s been responding, but the latest tests aren’t good. They’re moving so quickly. A specialist is flying in from Boston—thank goodness for Dr. Oliver, he’s a skier too, and such a fan, I think if we didn’t have him we wouldn’t have had a chance to—”

  “Slow down. Take a breath.”

  A ragged, tear-filled sigh. “Please, Juliet.”

  The longing, the fear, in her sister’s voice about kills her. Lauren has never shown an ounce of vulnerability to Juliet. Even when they were children, Lauren was always together. The strong one. The focused one. The perfect one. The private one. For her to be asking for help, allowing those walls to come down, to let her sister hear the anguish she is feeling, is huge.

  Juliet puts down her pipette. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’re supposed to get another foot of snow tonight. If I get going now, hopefully I can beat the storm.”

  “Thank you,” Lauren breathes, and hangs up the phone.

  Thirty minutes later, Juliet is on I-70, climbing through Georgetown. It will take another two hours to get to Vail in the afternoon traffic, and the storm is bearing down. She is pushing it, speeding when she can. If she gets pulled over, she can flash her credentials, explain the situation, and get off with a stern warning.

  She doesn’t want to think the worst, but she has to be the rational one. Stem cell transplants are tricky. Just like any organ transplant, the match needs to be as close to perfect as possible in order to prevent rejection. Siblings are often the best chance, but with Mindy, they have to hope for a match within the family. Juliet quails at the thought of the donor database. It could be months before a good match is found, months a child with aggressive AML doesn’t have.

  She’s never heard this kind of pain from her sister. Even when Lauren’s first marriage fell apart, when her husband Kyle took off and left her alone, pregnant and unemployed, she hadn’t reached out, hadn’t asked for help.

  Truthfully, Juliet wasn’t at all surprised to see their union fail—she’d never liked Kyle, felt he wasn’t right for Lauren from the start; he was a blustery, booming kind of man, a braggart of the worst sort, the kind who didn’t know his own shortcomings—but she hadn’t heard a word about the split until well after Mindy was born. All she knew was he hadn’t wanted a child and had gotten mad when Lauren found out she was pregnant, so they divorced and he moved to California.

  What a jerk he’d been. Rotten and self-involved. What kind of man leaves when he finds out his wife is pregnant?

  Juliet likes Jasper much, much better. He is kind, and smart, and loves Lauren beyond reason, and Mindy, too. That is good enough for her.

  She feels guilty for even thinking of Kyle right now. The topic is verboten, and for good reason. Mindy has no idea Jasper isn’t her biological father. It is an agreement they’d all made soon after Lauren and Jasper married. Kyle didn’t want Mindy, Jasper did. That, in Lauren’s eyes, made him her real father. Honestly, sometimes Juliet forgets that he isn’t.

  But in a situation like this...if there isn’t a match, will Kyle have to be brought back into the picture? That could get very ugly.

  Don’t put the cart before the horse. Of course one of us will be a match.

  She drives in the near dark grimly, watching the first flakes of the storm in her headlights, wondering what the next few days hold for them.

  * * *

  VAIL HEALTH HOSPITAL

  Lauren is frantic waiting for Juliet to arrive, and not hiding it well. She’s been tearing at her hair; a glance in the bathroom mirror shows it standing on end, but she doesn’t care, doesn’t bother to smooth it down. Mindy is calm and collected, handling this new setback with typical stoicism, but after Lauren has her cheek swabbed, she leaves her daughter alone with Jasper and walks the halls of the hospital, praying.

  I will do anything. I will do anything. Please. Please.

  She walks to the front doors of the hospital, stations herself to watch for her sister. The storm is on them, the snow coming down in true blizzard style, tiny stinging flakes spaced so closely together the parking lot has become a blur. Just when she starts to get worried, she sees a sweep of headlights and starts to breathe again.

  Get her swabbed, get the results. That’s all she can think of. Surely the odds will be in their favor, and one of the three of them will be a close enough match they will be able to save Mindy’s life.

  Juliet waves as she walks toward the doors. Hurry, hurry, Lauren thinks, knowing she’s being unreasonable; the DNA results will take hours to be returned. She curses herself, why hadn’t they done this before? Why hadn’t they been ready? Anticipated the worst?

  Because the insurance won’t pay for what if tests, Jasper’s voice echoes in her head, and she cringes at the thought of what this is going to cost them, the first time she’s really allowed herself to have the thought. Mindy has tried to talk to them about it, but they’ve brushed it off. Even with their excellent insurance, the finances are going to be an issue now that they have to move into a whole different stage of treatment. It takes money to raise an athlete of Mindy’s caliber. Jasper’s lawyering pays well, and Lauren’s art makes up the difference. But adding hundreds of thousands in hospital bills and medications and new treatment protocols is going to strain them. And if they need to do experimental treatments, apply for studies...

  It won’t happen. This is going to work. It has to work.

  “Aren’t you freezing?” Juliet asks when she reaches her, shaking her hair, snow slipping to the ground.

  “No,” Lauren answers, though she is, she is frozen to her core, to the bone. Everything rides on one of the three of them being a match. Everything.

  “Let’s go. They’re ready for you upstairs.”

  She pretends not to see Juliet’s lips compress at not being properly greeted or welcomed, just marches away into the hospital, knowing her sister will follow. Later, she’ll apologize. Later, when things aren’t so murky and scary.

  Lauren hasn’t ever needed Juliet before, not like this, and it makes her terribly uncomfortable. They
are so dissimilar, the two of them. One a scientist, one an artist. One a loner, the other a mother, a wife, a coach. Lauren sometimes feels badly about the distance between them, but then she looks at Mindy, at her accomplishments, and knows she’s done right to be 100 percent present for her daughter, even if it means she’s isolated herself from the only family she has. Mindy is the only one who’s ever truly mattered to Lauren, then, and now.

  In the elevator, she offers the finest olive branch she can think of. “I wish you were running the tests. At least I’d know they were right.”

  Juliet looks surprised, then shyly pleased. “They’ll be right. I’m sure we’ll find a match. Dr. Oliver knows what he’s doing.”

  “I’d have believed you without a second thought if the chemo was working. She’s so weak, Juliet. It’s made her so sick. And the cancer is still eating her alive, despite all he’s done.”

  “That happens sometimes. Hang tight, okay? Have faith.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Knock it off, Lauren. I’m as upset about this as you are.”

  “Are you?” The elevator dings and Lauren’s hand goes to her throat. “God, Juliet, I’m sorry. I haven’t slept, I’m worried, I’m—”

  “I know. I know. So stop, okay? Stop snapping, stop apologizing. It is what it is. Let’s go see Mindy, let me give her a hug, then I’ll take the test.”

  8

  That evening, Juliet sends Lauren and Jasper to the cafeteria for food before it shuts down. They are haggard, both of them, pale and gray-skinned. She instructs them to eat a decent, hot meal and take a break. She’s happy to watch over Mindy for a while.

  Lauren begins to protest, but Jasper grabs her hand and gives Juliet a grateful smile.

  “We’ll see you in an hour.”

  “Take two. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Mindy sleeps through it all. The emotions of the day have been grueling, and she’s finally crashed.

  Standing at the end of the bed, watching her, Juliet is filled with love. What a magnificent creature her sister has created. What a wonderful young woman they’ve raised.

  Juliet sees a red light out of the corner of her eye. The electronic chart on the screen across the room has an update. The system is state of the art—the lab tests show up the moment they’re finalized. She can’t help herself, she moves closer. It has to be the DNA results. It has to. The timing is impeccable.

  Any minute now, the doctor will come into the room and tell them who is a match.

  Or she can look herself...

  She’s been around the hospital long enough to see the password to the system. The nurses don’t try to hide it—who would want to log in and look at the charts, most of which are in gibberish scientific code so dense most laypeople can’t understand them?

  But Juliet isn’t a layperson.

  She glances once over her shoulder at the door, which is cracked but almost closed. No one will know.

  She crosses to the computer and types in the password she’d seen the nurse use earlier in the evening. The system is tied directly to the lab, and the email is bolded.

  Case #867745453 Results Ready

  Juliet clicks on the file and begins to read.

  Confusion fills her.

  There is no DNA match. The results from the three of them—well, Juliet knew it was a long shot for Jasper to be even a peripheral match, but Lauren and Juliet should at least share a few markers with Mindy. Maybe not enough for a stem cell transplant, but as mother and aunt, the mitochondria should match.

  She runs through the screens again. It isn’t possible. They don’t match Mindy at all.

  How can this be? She shakes her head. The lab has made a mistake.

  She checks the name of the lab. It is a private firm out of Denver that is incredibly well respected. She knows the head of the lab, Cameron Longer. The odds of his people making a mistake of this magnitude...no, they must have been given the wrong sample for Mindy. It will be a huge fuss; they will have to retest her. It could cost the lab the contract with the hospital.

  Perhaps Juliet can help a different way. She can call Cameron and tell him they need to redo things, and quickly. Help them avoid a costly and embarrassing mistake.

  “Ma’am? Excuse me, what exactly are you doing?”

  Juliet jumps away from the computer, smack into Mindy’s tray, which tips over, spilling everything from water and Kleenex to ChapStick on the floor with a clatter. Mindy jerks awake.

  “Aunt J? What’s the matter?”

  “Ma’am, what do you think you’re doing?”

  “Mindy, it’s fine.” And to the nurse, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was just checking to see if I could access the internet off this thing.”

  The nurse slaps the keyboard up into place, effectively shutting off the machine. “You can’t. It’s an intra-hospital system. No outside internet.”

  “I see that. Sorry, just wanted to check the storm, my phone battery is dead and the charger is out in the car.”

  The nurse isn’t buying it, but Juliet ignores her stares and goes to Mindy’s side. “Hey, kiddo, it’s all good. Just your clumsy aunt knocking everything off your tray.”

  She bends and picks everything up, mind whirling. She needs to move fast if she is going to get in touch with Cameron.

  “Don’t let me catch you messing with the computer again, ma’am.”

  “Of course not. It’s of no use to me, I couldn’t get in. You have a password on that thing, you know.”

  The nurse glares at her once more, then leaves the room, probably to report the incident and get the passwords changed. The system is secure, yes, but this is a hospital, one of the most insecure environments in the world. Anyone can walk in, take an elevator up to any floor, and walk into a room. Who’s to say they couldn’t pick up a password or two, dive right into the patient files? Records can be hacked, altered, stolen. It’s a nightmare for security, both in person and online.

  Mindy rubs her eyes. “What’s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost.”

  “That chick scared the you-know-what out of me, that’s all.”

  “Why were you snooping in my chart?”

  Oh, precocious child. She hadn’t been asleep the whole time.

  “Don’t tell on me.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I was looking to see if the DNA results were back yet. Which they weren’t. It was all a waste of my oh-so-excellent covert ninja skills.”

  She spies the ChapStick across the room, picks it up.

  Mindy giggles. “Yes, you’re a ninja all right. Where’s Mom?”

  Eating her dinner in happy ignorance.

  “I sent them to the local broom closet for a date. Figured they could use some alone time.”

  “Eww, Aunt J! Gross.”

  Perfect, she’s distracted her. “How do you think you came to be, child?”

  Mindy obligingly sticks her finger in her mouth and makes gagging noises.

  “Hey, want some tea?”

  “Yes, please. Peppermint.”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  9

  Mindy wants to know what Aunt J was looking at on the computer. Clearly, something was wrong; Aunt J went white as snow and jumped like a rabbit when the nurse caught her snooping.

  Probably there isn’t a match, and they are going to have to go out of the family to the donor database. Mindy doesn’t like the idea of a stranger’s DNA floating around inside her, though the idea of being a chimera is pretty cool. She could be two people at once. She should start looking at images of chimeras online, a tattoo of one would be awesome. She’ll do it on her left shoulder blade, intricate and coiled, like a snake about to strike.

  As she is playing with this idea, Aunt Juliet comes back to the room with her tea. Her aunt is so pretty w
hen she’s not worried. Now she is still white-faced but tosses Mindy a box of Hot Tamales candy with a grin. For some reason, the spicy cinnamon candy helps settle her stomach as well, or better, than the tea, but Lauren doesn’t like her to have them.

  Mindy wants to be more like Aunt J. Carefree, smart, not constrained by whatever weirdness her mother has. Lauren and Juliet are nothing alike. How did two people from the same parents who grew up in the same household turn into such different people? Mindy catches Juliet’s eye, points at the computer, and raises an eyebrow. She could swear Juliet blanches again before she bites her lip, then shakes her head slowly.

  No match, then.

  Mindy lets out her breath, slow and controlled. It is good of Juliet to let her know. Now she can better school herself and be prepared while everyone freaks out about how to tell her.

  Juliet sits on the edge of the bed. “You look distracted. Are you worried? I’m sure we’ll find a match.”

  “Well, yeah, sure I’m worried. But it’s not that. Do you remember anyone ever calling my mom Liesel?”

  “Liesel? Like the kid in The Sound of Music? No. Why do you ask?”

  Mindy feels her face turn red, and Aunt J’s right brow hikes.

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t do anything, I swear. Mom has this weird letter in her underwear drawer from 1993. Whoever wrote it must have been a good friend, it said she missed her, and there was some other stuff. Mom was crying when she read it. You were, what, five, six in 1993? Do you remember anything strange?”

  “I barely remember anything before we moved here in 1994. I was in first grade, and that’s when I got into the idea of going to space. With all the aerospace companies here, lots of parents worked at a firm called Martin Marietta, now Lockheed Martin, that made the rocket boosters. They were all into space stuff. We used to watch every launch—they’d bring all the grades into the cafeteria. For a little girl, it was almost like going to the movies, but it was real. The space bug bit me, and from then on, I wanted to be an astronaut. But I don’t remember much before that.”