Ten years later
“There is nothing more we can do for her,” Doctor William Johnson said solemnly. “I am sorry.”
Zoey looked down at the floor, as if it was the solution to all her problems. She did not speak, and her cheeks began to ache as she clenched her teeth. She could feel the doctor’s eyes burning into her, like spotlights. Had he meant it when he said he was sorry? He had, after all, been treating her little sister for months now.
A year ago, Violet had started to complain about joint pain. She had been constantly fatigued and tired, but until recently, Zoey’s parents had not thought much of it. They had assumed that their fourteen-year-old daughter was simply having growing pains and that she was tired because of her poor diet. They had encouraged her to eat healthy food, instead of the junk food she loved so much, and to exercise.
Despite her fatty diet, Violet had quickly started losing weight. She had complained about joint pain daily, and her parents had finally decided to take her to the doctor. The news had come as a shock to all of them – Violet Wright had leukemia.
The doctors had immediately started treatment, and Zoey blamed herself for not taking Violet to the doctors sooner. Although Zoey was the eldest sister, and not a parent, she felt she was responsible for Violet. Her family did not have much money and thus they did not go see doctors when an illness wasn’t serious. None of them had thought that Violet was this ill.
Zoey had stayed by her sister’s side for months and watched her grow weaker and weaker. She had watched her lose weight until Violet resembled a stick figure whose eyes had sunk deeper and deeper into her face. Zoey kept telling herself that her sister would get better, that the doctors would save her.
Doctor William, standing in front of her, had crushed all her hope so easily, as if it were a bug beneath his shoe. Was he sorry? Maybe. But he had no idea what Zoey was going through. He could not feel her pain. He could not feel her heart breaking inside her chest like a glass vase. It felt as if the glass was cutting her apart from the inside, and it made her wonder if Violet hurt as much as she did. Zoey clenched her fists and decided her sister’s pain was far worse.
“Should I tell Violet?” the doctor asked.
Zoey appreciated this question. He had probably told many people that they were going to die. He must know how to do it – how to give them the news gently. Zoey was the first one he had informed, and her parents were already on their way to the hospital to meet with him.
“No,” Zoey found herself saying. “I’ll do it.”
She turned away from the doctor and trudged along the hospital’s white halls. She hated this place. She hated being surrounded by the sick and the weak. She hated knowing her sister was among them.
Zoey paused in front of an open door, where Violet was lying in bed with her head turned toward the window. Zoey knocked, diverting Violet’s gaze from the outside world, and turning the corners of her sister’s mouth upward. How could she smile, given the circumstances?
Zoey entered the room, wanting to force herself to mimic her sister’s smile, but she could not muster the energy. Her heart felt so heavy, like an anchor dropped into a shallow ocean.
“You’re here!” Violet said cheerfully. There were dark circles under her eyes, her lips were cracked like dry mud, and her arms were skinny twigs. She pointed to the window with her bony finger. “Look.”
Two doves were perched on the windowsill. It was amazing that her sister could always find something beautiful in the world. Then the birds unexpectedly took off, making Violet’s face fall.
“Zoey.”
Violet’s small voice sent shivers down Zoey’s spine, and she tried to keep her face neutral. She could not cry, although her throat felt as tight as her heart. She could not be weak. She had to be strong, for Violet’s sake.
“Am I getting my angel wings soon?”
Zoey’s heart broke a little more, and the glass shards cut and cut her apart. That was Violet’s way of asking if she would pass away soon. Violet believed in a higher power, in Heaven and Hell. She believed that she would be welcomed into Heaven as an angel once her earthly life came to an end.
Zoey was not sure if she believed in Heaven, and she had no idea what happened when people died, but if there was a Heaven, her sister should go there – she was such a good girl. Zoey’s heart ached, the glass cutting deeper. She’d never thought she’d be wishing her sister into Heaven. She was doing what desperate people did – finding faith.
“No,” she finally said. “Those angel wings can wait.”
Why had she said that? The doctor had just said her sister was going to die. If Zoey did not tell Violet the truth, her parents would. But Zoey could not get the words out. If she said Violet was going to die, it would only make it more real. If only this was a horrible dream, and she would wake soon.
But it was not a dream.
Zoey sat in the creaky chair next to her sister’s bed and observed her now-bald head, all traces of the blond beauty gone, and her tired but hopeful eyes. Zoey reached for sister’s pale hand, and Violet let her take it in her tanned ones. She was a lifeline to Violet, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long before Violet let go.
They looked so different – Violet with her fair features, and Zoey with her tanned ones. Had Violet ever figured out they were adopted? Marcia and Rudolf couldn’t have kids. Probably not – or she would have said something. Their parents had only recently told Zoey, and none of them had the heart to tell Violet, given her circumstances.
“How’s Eric?” Violet asked, innocently.
To Zoey’s relief, she had changed the subject. Her chest felt like it might burst from forcing her emotions to remain hidden. Talking about Eric wasn’t one of her favorite topics, but it beat talking about Violet dying.
“He is coming to visit you later today,” Zoey said.
Violet rolled her eyes, and Zoey wondered how she had enough energy to fuel her attitude. “We both know he comes here for you.”
“That’s not true,” Zoey said, too quickly.
Violet gave her a look that suggested otherwise – twisting her lip and raising one eyebrow. Eric’s dad was best friends with Zoey’s dad, and thus she and Eric had grown up together. There had been a time when they had been best friends. Zoey’s mother, Marcia, used to joke and say that they were ‘glued’ together.
Their tight friendship had made Violet the third wheel. When they were younger, they used to hide from Violet and deliberately excluded her because she was an annoying kid who didn’t want to leave them alone. Now, Zoey regretted every mean thing she had ever done to her sister.
Zoey had always thought the ‘glue’ keeping her and Eric together would get thicker over the years, but as they grew older, he had started pulling away. Zoey assumed it was because of her crush on him, and he knew but did not feel the same way.
They had started hanging out less and less as their laughter turned into shallow conversations. Their play dates turned into missed calls, making Zoey wonder at what point their friendship had fallen apart. What had she done to deserve this?
Then Violet had become ill, and Eric came to visit more often. He was supportive and kind, and she enjoyed having him around again. She also felt guilty for finding happiness while her little sister was dying. It was as if she should be unhappy every moment of every day.
“Why would he come to the hospital to visit me?” Zoey asked Violet.
“Because he is in love with you.” Her answer was unexpected, surprising, and sent shock waves through Zoey’s whole body. “Oh, don’t act like you didn’t know!”
Zoey was not acting; she truly did not know. If Eric was in love with her, surely he would have asked her out on a date by now. Instead, he was asking other girls out. She had watched him do it.
“How do you know he is in love with me?” Zoey felt somewhat guilty for making everything about her, but her curiosity made her shove aside the guilt and listen to her sister.
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she said.
“You’re wrong. We grew up together; we are practically family. He loves me like a sister.”
“He loves me like a sister,” Violet corrected.
Zoey shook her head, and the motion made her dark brown hair sway like branches in the wind, tickling the side of her face. “He has had eighteen years to ask me out.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know how,” Violet said. “It’s not like he has a mom to help him with these things.”
Eric’s mother had died, when they were two years old, and Zoey could not remember anything about her. Thus, Eric lived with his father, Donny, who had never fully moved on from his wife’s passing. Zoey’s dad, Rudolf, had tried to set Donny up with many beautiful women over the years, but Donny always found an excuse to avoid meeting them.
Marcia had taken care of Eric as if he were her son. She loved him, and sometimes he would stay in their house for days. Zoey loved having him around, and it had been years since they had a sleepover. He had disappeared and reappeared when her life got hard. And that’s what true friends did, right? They stuck with you during the tough times. Eric was a true friend.
“You are thinking about him now, aren’t you?” Violet smiled.
“You’ve got me.” Zoey’s cheeks grew warm. “But you’re wrong about his feelings for me.”
Eric was not awkward, and he knew how to ask girls out. If he wanted to go on a date with her, he would have. The situation was simple: he was not in love with her.
“Zoey, you are so beautiful and strong. What’s not to love about you?”
Zoey did not answer the question. She was her sister’s hero – not Eric’s. Her sister was the only person in the world who looked up to her and admired her. Zoey used to find it annoying, then flattering, and now it made her feel guilty. Zoey was not a hero, not worthy of admiration. If she was, she would’ve found a way to save little Violet’s life.
Violet closed her eyes, and Zoey sat with her until she fell asleep. She watched her sister’s chest move with every breath and tensed – as if any moment Violet would draw her last breath.
“She won’t live much longer,” a woman said.
Zoey dropped her sister’s hand and jumped up from the chair. A woman was standing at the door. Zoey would have scolded her if her attire wasn’t so damn distracting, involving a yellow, high-waisted skirt that fell to her thighs, with a green blouse buttoned up to her neck. She wore ridiculous, knee-high orange socks and flat shoes that hid her toes. Her red hair swayed around her face like a cloud, and her freckles stood out like dirt stains on white fabric.
Zoey wanted to ask who this strange woman was but could not find the words. She stared at her as if she was a rare piece of art. The woman approached her with cheer in her step. How could she look so happy after saying such dreary words?
“What if I told you that there was a way to save her?”
Zoey went from staring at the woman’s clothes to making eye contact. She couldn’t help but give in to the bit of hope that question gave her. But then her heart tightened as she recalled, “The doctors can’t save her.”
“But you can,” the red-haired woman said, which captured Zoey’s attention all over again.
“How?” Zoey asked.
“There is a flower that has healing properties. It can cure anything.”
“That sounds like an old wives’ tale,” Zoey retorted.
“I’ve seen it work with my own two eyes,” the lady said.
A part of Zoey wanted to tell the woman to leave. She looked like a clown, and maybe she was crazy. No sane person could possibly believe that a flower could cure leukemia. Zoey glanced at her sleeping sister, and her chest tightened a bit more, before she focused on the woman again.
To her surprise, Zoey found herself asking, “What is this flower called?”
“Fluver-luzile,” the woman said and came closer.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t have.” The lady reached into her shirt’s pocket and pulled out a piece of paper which she handed to Zoey, who hesitantly accepted it.
Zoey unfolded the paper carefully, because it was old and fragile, and studied the drawing of a beautiful flower with a purple center and plenty of bright pink leaves. Zoey did not know much about flowers, but she had never seen anything like it. It almost looked as if it was not from this world, or as if the person who drew it had been on drugs.
“Where do I find this flower?” she asked as she looked up from the paper.
“It’s deep within the Wandering Woods,” the woman responded, calm as a millpond.
Zoey felt lightheaded and resisted the urge to sit down. This woman was mad! The Wandering Woods were said to be cursed, a place for suicides, and few people who entered came out. It was where Eric’s mother had killed herself.
“You can’t seriously be telling me to go into cursed woods.”
“The woods aren’t cursed!” The woman laughed. “It’s the home of the Fata.”
Zoey had heard plenty of stories about the Fata during her folklore class at school. Fata were faeries that came from another world and, from what Zoey understood, they were magical, deadly, and manipulative creatures. Someone had once told her they could bend humans to their will whenever and however they wanted. The Wandering Woods sounded like a fitting home for such creatures.
Zoey didn’t believe that faeries dwelled in the woods, but she did not want to wander there anyway. She could get lost or attacked by a wild animal, shredded to bits. But she was desperate to save her sister, no matter the cost. A small voice in her mind told her she was being naïve, and another voice whispered to give it a try.
“Are you sure this will work?” Her words were barely audible, and she hated how desperate she sounded. She must be crazy to consider going into the woods to search for a flower, but what else could she do? This was the only hope she had left.
“Yes, it will heal her.”
The lady sounded self-assured, but Zoey shook her head, as if she just come to her senses. Why was she listening to a crazy woman whom she did not know? Why would this woman even help her? Where did the woman come from?
Zoey looked at Violet. Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes fluttered.
“Who are you?” When there was no reply, Zoey looked away from her sister, toward the door. The red-haired lady had vanished.