10
When we pulled into the driveway, my dad’s work van was the only car there. FLYNN PEST CONTROL, it said in big letters on the side. LICENSED TO KILL. LITERALLY. There was a picture of my dad wielding his backpack sprayer. Lydia must’ve left early, because her Corolla wasn’t parked on the street like it normally was. It would be another hour until my mom got home.
Tyler was still holding my hand. He hadn’t let go of it the entire ride home. “What if we just stay here?” he asked, staring up at the house. The sky had gone dark, the moon just visible above the trees, a spattering of stars beyond it.
“In the driveway?” I laughed.
“In this car. We could order pizza, tip the seats back, and sleep. Skip school tomorrow and listen to every CD in my glove compartment. Get Chinese food and have my little brother drop off some clothes. We’d only go inside to use the bathroom and the phone.”
“My parents would not like that.”
“We’ll sneak through the back door.”
“Start homeschooling each other,” I said with a smirk. “Drink rainwater. Give our college applications to the mailman.”
“Come on, don’t leave,” he said when I finally reached for the door.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, promise.” I kissed him before jumping down from the Blazer. I waited at my front door, watching as he pulled out the driveway and up the block. My cheeks were sore from smiling so much.
Fuller didn’t greet me the way he normally did, his tiny butt wiggling like crazy. The house was quiet. I glanced up the stairs and noticed Sara’s door was open, but her room was dark. She wasn’t blasting her stereo. The television was off.
“Dad?” I started into the kitchen. The light above the stove cast ominous shadows. He was at our table, his chin resting on his hands. If we were religious I would’ve thought he was praying, but as soon as he turned toward me I saw that his face was flushed, his eyes red and watery.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Lydia couldn’t wake Sara up. We had to call an ambulance.” He was already wearing his jacket. His boots were on and the car keys were already on the table. Before I could ask anything he grabbed them, wrapping one arm around me as he ushered us to the door. “We have to meet your mom at the hospital.”
I barely had time to put my backpack down.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “She was fine this morning. It seemed like she was having a good day. A really good day.”
My mom was sitting on the edge of the bed so I stood awkwardly beside it, not sure where to put my hands. I didn’t want to think too much about the private room we were in, with its windows looking into the woods, or the armchair that folded down into a cot. They’d never given us one that was so nice, and I didn’t want that—I didn’t want to settle in. Sara was supposed to be going home soon.
“They think it’s pneumonia.” My mom was looking past me, her eyes unfocused.
“But she didn’t seem sick this morning.”
“It came on quick,” Lydia said, and leaned forward in the armchair, her elbows on her knees. “She was exhausted so I let her rest. I just let her rest and then she wouldn’t wake up.”
Sara’s skin was pale and damp, long strands of hair sticking to her face and neck. My dad paced back and forth, watching her as though she might wake up at any moment and explain things to him.
“I’m going to find the doctor,” he finally said.
Sara’s nose and mouth were covered by a plastic face mask, the machines whirring beside her. My instinct was to do what I always did at home—adjust her bed, her pillow. Get a few snacks from the kitchen so she never had to ask for them. But now, here, there was no way to help.
We’d come close before, but this wasn’t supposed to be it. It couldn’t be. She still had time, probably years, they’d said, and we had made plans. We hadn’t been on a boat together since we were kids, and her doctor said she could go when it got warmer. She’d use a wheelchair but they said we could take her out on the lake. We wanted to write songs together, me on the guitar and her singing, the lyrics pulled from her poetry. We were supposed to have a John Hughes marathon next week.
I folded the thin blue blanket up from her feet, letting it cover her waist. There was no room for me in her bed, so I curled up on the floor beside the armchair.