“What aren’t you telling me?” she asked, snapping me free of my thoughts. When I said nothing, she swore and paced at the foot of my bed. “You said you were being honest with me before.”
“I was.”
“But you aren’t now.”
“It’s not lying if I don’t say anything.”
“Andy, I swear to God . . .”
“Sis, just . . . stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop pushing. It’s—” I gestured around. “It’s not good. Nothing good will come of me telling you. Someday, okay? But not now. I can’t do now.”
She was winding up to take another swing at me when there was a knock at the door. It opened, and Cory stood in the gap. “Hey,” he said.
I looked from him to Kel, who wouldn’t meet my gaze. She’d called him. Of course. And I couldn’t blame her. He deserved to know. “Hey,” I said. “Come in.”
Cory ambled over. As he neared, the damage I’d done to his face became more apparent while something inside me shrunk in congruence. “How you, uh, how you feeling?” he asked.
“Okay. Head hurts.” I motioned to his face. “How about you?”
He touched his split lips. It looked like he’d been eating blueberry ice cream. “Fine, fine. Looks worse than it is.”
Silence gathered in the room. Filled it up.
“Did you see Dad?” Kel asked.
“Yeah. He was sleeping so I didn’t talk to him or anything, but the nurse said he was doing good. Heartbeat was strong and whatnot.”
After another long pause, Kel said, “I’m gonna get a coffee. You guys want one?”
I shook my head, but Cory said sure. She left us alone, which I surmised was the entire purpose of getting coffee.
Dad’s wishes from the day before were chyrons across this scene.
Brothers make amends amid family crisis.
Father’s dying request realized by children.
Stop it.
“Cory—” I started, but he held up a hand.
“No, look. We don’t have to do this. We don’t like each other; that’s the truth. It doesn’t matter we’re related. Brothers and sisters don’t get along all the time. It’s okay. You don’t need me, and I don’t need you. We can leave it at that.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. It hurt a little to say it. He’d deserved the beating I’d laid on him, but I wasn’t lying either. I was sorry. Sorry I cringed whenever I knew he was coming home. Sorry I couldn’t talk to him like I could Kel. Sorry he felt the same way.
Cory blinked and looked out the window. “I didn’t mean it how it came out. What I said about Emma. I always felt like I was on one side and you three were on the other. I know Emma looked up to you and Kel and didn’t . . .” He shifted. “She didn’t look at me the same way. Not like a big brother.”
“Sometimes you didn’t act like one,” I said gently.
He sighed. “Yeah.”
“Dad wants us to be good to each other. After—after he can’t tell us that anymore.”
“He makes it sound easy, doesn’t he?” Cory smiled a little, and I relived a moment from when I was six and fell on some rocks in the woods where we were playing. Cory had inspected a cut on my knee and told me it wasn’t bad at all. He smiled and said it would make me stronger. And in that instant I wanted to be, for him.
About then, Kel returned with coffee. She’d brought one for me even though I’d said no, but once again she knew me better than I knew myself, and I drank it down in a few long sips.
The three of us talked, really talked for what seemed like the first time in forever. What we would need to do for Dad in the coming days, months, years. Cory was mostly quiet, thoughtful, absorbing. It was a nice change.
When he left, he squeezed my shoulder once, not looking at me. “Get feeling better,” he said and was gone. Kel took her leave a bit later—the girls were at a friend’s, and she needed to pick them up. I assured her I’d call that night, and she said I wouldn’t have to. That she’d be checking on me.
Dr. Johnson pronounced me fit to be discharged a little before six in the evening. I felt like a newborn calf for the first ten minutes on my feet, then steadied as I headed down the hall.
Dad’s room was semiprivate, a solid partition in between his bed and another by the window. Whoever was in the next section over was either in a coma or deeply asleep, no sounds except the soft beep of Dad’s heart monitor filling the room.