Claire is dying. She knows it and I know it. Sam and Ava know it, too, but they are still holding out hope. I had a moment with Claire in the hospital. She looked at me and smiled, as if we shared something. I guess we do. I died and she is about to. Except her soul is still intact, while mine was given away and couldn't be taken back.
I picture Claire's soul like a butterfly, floating away on a breeze. Effortless and beautiful. I send the image to Ava, but it's wiped away by the image of Claire and I burning in green fire.
I'm not sure if I believe in heaven. Maybe a place where souls go. A garden where they all gather like bubbles, different colors dancing and playing with one another. Maybe it's true, maybe it isn't. I will never know. If Ava has her way, she will never know. She won't get a heaven, but I'll get mine. My heaven is her. Nothing could be greater than spending the rest of my earthly time with Ava. Nothing.
Ava
In the morning when I wake, Dad is already at the hospital and Aj is attempting pancakes.
“I don't know why they're falling apart,” she moans, as she tries to flip the pancake soup she's somehow made. “I made it just like the package says.” She points the spatula at the box in frustration.
“You have to add less water. I don't know why they say that on the package, but it's total crap.” I find the bowl of mix and toss in some more of the powdered mix. I stir it a few times, making sure not to do it too much so the pancakes won’t be tough.
“I'm going to go pick up Peter. I'll be right back,” I say. I wish I could just tell her that Peter spent the night and be done with it, but I know she'll tell Dad and then that will open a whole can of worms I don’t need to open at the moment.
“Doesn't he have a life?”
“He does. He just puts things on hold for me. He loves me.” I swallow past the lump that forms in my throat when I say it.
“Well, clearly. Any guy who will spend the entire day in the hospital with you and eat crappy hospital food is a keeper. Even if he's a little strange. You're aware that he's strange, right?”
“It's part of what I love about him,” I say, tossing my keys in the air and catching them.
I go down the driveway and wait ten minutes. Normally this would be make-out time for me and Peter, but we don't do that today. It feels wrong. I just climb over the console and lie in his lap in the passenger seat.
“We haven't done everything on the list.”
“That wasn't the point of it.”
“But we were going to take her to the island, and she was going to see Paris and Europe. She had a million things, and we haven't done them all. We should have done more. I should have been more careful with the stupid house. If I'd kept it cleaner, or not let all those people in —”
Peter puts his finger to my lips, silencing me.
“You cannot play this game. You will go crazy with thinking about what could have been. I spent a whole week outside my parents’ house in New York, watching my mother and sisters and imagining that I was with them. If I had gotten in the lifeboat, if I hadn't met Di. You cannot do it; it serves no purpose but to make you doubt the things that have already happened.”
“I know,” I say around his fingers, but I can’t stop thinking about the things that should have been. We thought we had so much time. The tulips are just about ready to bloom. I close my eyes and wish that she'd be able to see them. Even if it is the last time. She has to see them.
Mom is about the same when we get there after eating Aj's watery pancakes. Well, she and I eat and Peter watches. She came with us, but takes her own car so she can go back to the house and take care of things there. She and Mom exchange hugs, and one of the nurses brings in more chairs.
“We've got quite a group going on here,” she says. I'm pretty sure it's in the nurse job description to be painfully nice and call everyone 'sweetie,' even the adults that are probably older than they are.
“How you doing?” Aj says, flopping into the chair. She'll be out of it in a few seconds. Aj hates sitting around.
“I'm doing okay. I just really want to go home. I haven't been able to get much sleep.”
“I bet.”
They go on to talk about the tests Dr. Young ordered and how her lungs are looking and all that. I just sit in Peter's lap and try not to listen to it. The words are meaningless. All they add up to is the fact that she's not getting better. That's she's probably not going to get better.
“Knock, knock,” someone says. They keep doing that. Obviously, the only thing separating us from the hallway is that ugly curtain that anyone can pull back when they feel like it. Hospital rooms are very exposed. Privacy is not a consideration.
The woman that comes around the curtain isn't a nurse and she's not a doctor.
“Well, don't you have a lot of fans,” she says with that patented 'I care about you' smile. I swear, they must test them on this, because they're all good at it.
“I'm Lisa. I'm the hospital social worker. Do you mind if I talk with you a little bit?”
“Sure. Ava, baby, could you go and see if I can get some more ice?” This is a clear ploy to get me out of the room so the grown-ups can talk. I don't like it, but I'm not going to throw a fit.
“Sure.” I get up and Peter follows me to the kitchen down the hall. As Peter is filling a plastic pitcher with ice, I lean against the counter.
“What are they talking about?”
“Are you sure you want to know?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“I thought so. I just wanted to make sure.” He closes the freezer and sets the pitcher on the counter. “They are making arrangements.”
“I don't like the sound of that.”
“It's just in case. They still don't have anything final.” He stops and listens. “Your mother is asking to be sent home.”
“Sent home? Why would she...” Oh. Oh. “She wants to?”
“Yes. She has had enough.”
“But she's only been her for two days! How can she give up now?”
“She has been fighting for so long. She knows it is time,” Peter says in that eerily calm voice of his.
“She can't; she just can't.” All the air leaves my body and my knees decide they don't want to support me anymore, but before I can hit the floor, Peter is there. Always there to catch me. “She can't, she can't.” I say it over and over. Maybe if I say it enough, it will be true. Maybe if I...
“There is nothing you can do, baby.” He pulls me up and crushes me into his chest, as if protecting me in the cage of his arms.
“She can't, she can't.” I shake and he tries to hold me still. This can't be it.
As much as I know it is going to happen, hearing that this really is the end seals the deal. In the very back of my mind, I held out one little ray of hope that she could get better and that there would be some miracle to save her. Because if anyone deserves a miracle, it's her.
I want her to be the one to beat the odds. I want her to be special. Not like every other terminal cancer patient. Because she isn't. She's my mother and Dad's wife and a sister-in-law and a friend and a teacher and so many other things. She is the sunshine in our house. How can anyone take that away?
“Shh,” Peter says. I'm not really crying. There aren't tears. There is just a gasping, wrenching sound coming from my body as if part of me is being ripped away. In a way, part of me is.
“They're going to want to talk to you. To see how you are dealing. There will be grief counseling. You're going to have to go. I don't think they will let me come with you.”
“Fuck them. Fuck everything. Fuck God.” I hate the entire world. I just want everything to burst into flames.
“Say whatever you want. I don't mind. Put your face in my chest and scream all you want.”
I do, but all it does is make my throat hurt. I start banging my head against him, which turns into me punching him. He just stands and takes it. His face is still, which only makes me hit harder. My knuckles crack open a
nd start to bleed, but he doesn't stop me. He just lets me go. I only stop when I can't breathe anymore.
“Anytime you need to do that, you let me know. I will be your punching bag. I will be whatever you want me to be.”
“I want you to love me. I want you to somehow make this better. But you can't. Nothing will ever work out. Nothing, nothing, nothing.”
“We need to go back.”
“I can't. I can’t.” My legs won't move.
“Ava, look at me.”
I do, and he does that thing where he pulls me in, making my brain go blank. All I see are his eyes: one green, one blue. My body stops shaking, stops freaking, just stops. I hear my heart and my blood and that's it besides the hum of the refrigerator.
“There,” he says, letting me go.
He takes my hands and gives me a zap of happy. It fizzles out quickly, but at least I'm not going to destroy anything or kill anyone. Although, if that social worker smiles at me like she's on happy pills, I might smash her face into the floor. Or maybe whack her with a bedpan. I imagine it with satisfaction.
“Okay, I'm ready.”
Twenty-Seven
Brooke
Once again, I had to hide. Helena left me in a cave in the middle of the desert while she went to find Di. She hadn't made me promise to stay, and I had no intention of doing so. She couldn't tell me what to do.
We'd left the road far behind us. No human could live out here. Helena ran quickly, but I was able to fly and catch up with her. I'd seen her mermaid tail and was convinced my wings were more useful.
Di was waiting for her under a lone tree. She looked like she was on fire, with red hair and a bright red dress that hugged her like the fabric had been wrapped around her body and then sewed to her skin.
“Helena,” Di said, as if she was both sad and surprised. Odd, I thought she was waiting here for her.
“Di. Long time no see.”
Di tipped her head to the side. “It has been a long time. You look well.”
“So do you.” There was a pause as they locked eyes. The only parts of them that moved were their hair.
“What do you want, Helen?” I'd never heard anyone call her that.
“I just wanted to see you, Diana. I just...”
“You seem to have taken to the modern language well.”
“It is easy to imitate,” Helena said, switching into her real accent. I'd heard it a few times since I'd gotten to know her. It was strange to hear her talk like a valley girl one moment and a Greek goddess the next.
“I think I can guess why you are here,” Di said, getting up and walking in a circle around Helena, brushing a strand of her long hair. “You are here about my boys.”
“Maybe I am. Maybe I missed you.”
Di laughed. “Oh, Helen, I'm not that stupid. What I don't know is how they roped you into it.”
“I am here of my own accord.”
“Of course you are. Such a sucker, Helen. You always were. Beauty and heart. Not a lot of common sense.”
Helena giggled, the sound cracking over the barren landscape like a gunshot. “You were always insulting me. Even when we were making love. Especially then.” She reached out and touched Di's shoulder.
Di looked like she wanted to give in, but she turned and walked away. “So what have you gotten them to promise you?”
“Nothing,” Helena said.
Di was surprised again. “Oh, come now. You can't get something for nothing.”
“I don't want it to go on anymore, Di. The binds... all they do is create hate. I just want there to be love.”
“So altruistic, sweet Helen. But binds can be about love, as you well know.”
“What happened to you? Why have you turned so bitter?”
A hot breeze tossed their hair around like scarves. “You made me this way. Or don't you recall?”
“If I could take it back, I would.”
“Such a liar, my Helen.”
“Remember that day when I met you? Remember after Akash changed me and we swam in the river and danced in the sun? Remember that day you painted the clouds on my skin with white paint?”
“Of course I remember. It's just not important. Don't you remember how I killed that boy you were infatuated with. What was his name? Tobias?”
“You know what his name was, Diana. Don't play that game with me. You pretend that you don't care, but I know you do, you have to. But why did you do it to them? To your boys? How could you?”
“That is my business, not yours.” Di turned and stormed away.
“Diana. I didn't come here to fight with you,” Helena's voice softened.
“You're doing a good job of it.”
Helena held up her hands in a pleading motion. “Can we just talk?”
“If you just wanted to talk, then what is she doing here?” Di points right at me. The wind must have shifted, bringing her my scent. I didn't see the point in hiding, so I came out.
“Brooke. You are not good at following directions,” Helena said.
“Not really. I don't really do what people tell me to do,” I said. It was part of what had gotten me into this immortal situation in the first place.
“Is this your new toy?”
“No. I am just here for moral support.” This was not exactly true, but it sounded good.
“Why don't I believe that? Did you bring anyone else with you? One of my lovely sons, perhaps? You may have heard, one of them was ended by a human. The very human who will end another of mine.”
“He loves her, you know? I know you made the bind that he wouldn't, but you can love more than one person at once. That was what you forgot.”
“He may love her, but he loves me more. Soon he will kill her and that will be the end of it. He will come back to me and we will be together again. I may have lost my Ivan, but my Cal will fill his place.”
“They can't fill my place, Diana. You would be gone if they had.”
Di was silent, unable to deny it.
“You left a place I couldn't fill. I need you, Diana. I miss you.” Helena touched Di's turned shoulder, and Di couldn't resist meeting her eyes.
“You didn't love me. You never did. You were obsessed with that human boy, even after you changed. I was never enough for you,” Di said.
“You were; you were enough. You are enough. I've spent every second of every day thinking about you. You know I would not be alive if I didn't love you.” Di tried to fight it, but Helena pulled on her shoulders, turning her around so their eyes could meet. “Prove it. Prove you don't love me.” Helena crushed her lips to Di's.
For a moment, Di fought her, but it was only a moment. Then she gave in.
Twenty-Eight
Ava
I don't end up killing the social worker, but I do end up freaking out and crying. I try my best not to break down in front of Mom, but when they tell me they are preparing for the worst, I kind of lose it. The social worker gives Peter her first nasty look, and I gave it right back to her. He is the only thing preventing me from going postal.
I spend as much time at the hospital as they'll let me. Flowers, cards and visitors come and go, and I ignore most of them. Tex comes again and stays for a while, making my mother have a coughing fit several times. I end up glaring at her so she'll stop being funny. Dad mentions something about Peter spending time with his own family, but he says that they understand. What he doesn't say is that I am his family. He tells me that later.
At night I rage against the unfairness and shittiness of my life. He lets me scream and beat him, and after a while I get tired enough and pass out. It's probably not a healthy way of dealing with my grief, but it's the only thing I can do right now.
Mom gets steadily worse until she gasps with every breath, even with the oxygen tube in her nose. They've tried three different antibiotics, but her body just isn't strong enough.
On Thursday, while Dad is getting coffee, she gives Peter a long look and he gets up, saying that he's going to gi
ve us a moment. I hold onto his hand, but he pulls away, giving it a kiss before he does.
I know what this means.
“Ava-Claire.”
I look at her and I feel sick. I've thrown up I don't know how many times in the past few days.
“Mommy,” I say. I haven't called her that in years, but it comes out.
“Baby, I don't want you to be scared. I said I would tell you when it was time. It's time.” She gasps after every word, so it takes her a while to get them out.
“Mommy, you can't. Not yet.” I get up and climb into bed with her, shaking with the effort of holding myself together. Any moment I'm going to fly into a million pieces.
“I fought. Not everyone wins, but I don't want to talk about that. I want you to know that I will always be with you. I may not be here, but I am always with you. You are my daughter, whether we're in this life or the next. I have to believe that whoever created us wouldn't be cruel enough to separate us.” She has to rest before she goes on.
“Daddy and I have talked a lot about this, and I want you to know that he's taking care of things. You don't need to worry about things you don't need to worry about. I want you to be young, even though you're dealing with something no young person should. You are my strong girl, you will pull through and your life will be wonderful. I gave Daddy a box of things for you. He doesn't know what's in it, but I want you to have it. They are things that are just for you. Okay?” I can't say anything, so I just nod once. I feel like I'm not in my body, but that I'm floating above us, just a spirit, watching.
“Everything I want you to know is in that box. When you need to hear my voice or know that I love you, open the box. I've also left you grandma’s jewelry and some other little things. I started putting money away for your college when you were born. There's an account in your name, and the money will be yours when you turn 18. Aj has all the paperwork for that.”
I think I hear Dad in the hallway, but then the footsteps fade. Mom closes her eyes, as if she's pulling out every reserve of energy she has.
The Noctalis Chronicles Complete Set Page 76
