I’m tired, Lucy.
How dare he use those words? How dare he claim to be exhausted as if he was the one going through the hardest fight of his life? “We’re all tired, Parker. We’re all dealing with this. I moved in with you two so I could look after her, to make it easier for you, and now you’re just giving up on her? On your marriage?” No words from him. My heart…it cracked. “Does she know? Did you tell her you’re leaving?”
“No.” He shook his head sheepishly. “She doesn’t know. I figured this would be easiest. I don’t want her to worry.”
I huffed, shocked by the lies he was throwing my way, even more stunned by how he somehow believed those words to be true.
“I’m sorry. I left some money on the table in the foyer. I’ll check in with you to make sure she’s okay, to make sure she’s comfortable. I can even wire you more money if you need it.”
“I don’t want your money,” I said, my voice unsympathetic to his pained expression. “We don’t need anything from you.”
He parted his lips to speak but shut them quickly, unable to form any sentences that could make the situation any easier. I watched every step he took to reach his driver’s side door, and when he did, I called his name. He didn’t turn to look at me, but his ears perked up, waiting.
“If you leave my sister right now, you don’t get to come back. You don’t get to call when you’re drunk or check in when you’re sad. When she beats this cancer—which she will—you don’t get to step back in and pretend you love her. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
Those two words were the same he’d used to promise himself to Mari through sickness and in health. Those two words were now forever drenched in agony and filthy lies.
He stepped into his car before driving off without once hitting his brakes. I stayed in the driveway for a few moments, unsure of how to walk inside and tell my sister that her husband had abandoned her during her storm.
My heart cracked again.
My heart broke for my sister, the innocent one in a world full of ruthlessness. She’d given up her free spirit life to live a more structured one, and both worlds had turned against her.
I took a deep breath and placed the palm of my hand around my heart-shaped necklace.
Maktub.
Instead of running like Parker, I went to see Mari. She was lying in her bed resting. I smiled her way, and she smiled back at me. She was so skinny, her body pushing each day to fight against expiration. Her head was wrapped in a scarf, her once long brunette hair now nothing more than a memory. It made her sad at times, staring into the mirror, but she didn’t see what I saw. She was so beautiful, even in sickness. Her true glow couldn’t be stolen away by such changes to her body, because her beauty stemmed from her soul, where only goodness and light resided.
She’d be okay, I knew she would, because she was a fighter.
Hair grew back, bones regained strength, and my sister’s heart was still beating, which was reason enough to celebrate each day.
“Hey, Pea,” I whispered, hurrying over to the bed and crawling into it to lie beside her. I lay on my side, and she turned on hers to face me.
Even in her weakness, she found a way to smile each day. “Hey, Pod.”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
She shut her eyes. “He’s gone.”
“You knew?”
“I saw him packing when he thought I was sleeping.” Tears started rolling from the corners of her eyes, which she kept closed. For a while, we just lay there. Her sadness became my tears, and her tears articulated my sadness.
“Do you think he’ll miss me when I die?” she asked me. Whenever she brought up death, I wanted to curse the universe for hurting my best friend, my family.
“Don’t say that,” I scolded.
“But do you think he will?” She opened her eyes, reached across to me, and held my hands in hers. “Remember when we were kids and I had that awful dream about Mama dying? I spent the whole day crying, and then she gave us all a talk about death? About how it isn’t the end of the journey?”
I nodded. “Yes, she told us we’d see her in everything—the sunbeams, the shadows, the flowers, the rain. She said death doesn’t kill us, it only awakens us to more.”
“Do you ever see her?” she whispered.
“Yes, in everything. In absolutely everything.”