July
KENDRA STOOD IN HER SIDE YARD, HOLDING THE CAMERA STEADY, trying to remember f-stops from apertures so she could set her dials just right before the cardinal flew away. Lance had given her an assignment—and his camera—to work on depth of field. She had to photograph an object in perfect focus, with the background blurred. When a cardinal flew into the yard, it was the perfect challenge.
“Don’t move,” she murmured.
The bird had perched itself on a tree limb, checking out its surroundings.
Kendra turned the lens this way and that, but everything in the picture stayed in focus. Didn’t he say something about backing up if that happened? She tried it, eyes trained on the bird. “Don’t move . . . don’t move . . .”
Click. Click. Click.
She checked the shots right away on the back of the camera. “Yes!” The bright red cardinal was in the foreground, focused beautifully, and the trees in the background were blurred.
She couldn’t wait to show Lance and to see it more fully on his big computer screen.
The sound of a car got her attention. It was Trey, by himself for once, at midmorning. As he parked, she headed inside the garage entrance. She’d been waiting for this opportunity.
They hadn’t had a real conversation since the blow-up last week. Well, no. She didn’t know when they’d last had a real conversation, if ever. He was eight years old when she left for college, and their interactions since then were best characterized as brief. Shallow. How’s it going? How’s school? You playing a sport?
She was hard-pressed to think of a single conversation they’d had about their mom’s illness. Maybe she’d asked him how Mom was doing. But an actual conversation about the illness or the dynamics of the situation or, “Trey, how are you weathering all of this?” No. Until he brought it up last week, she hadn’t given it a thought.
They hadn’t talked about their dad either, not in any depth.
Kendra set the camera on the kitchen counter and got a bottled water from the refrigerator. She needed to be doing something, holding something. How weird to be nervous with her own brother. But Trey had been so hostile, so different, she didn’t know what to expect.
The front door opened and closed. Kendra expected the footsteps to go up, since he came through the front, but they moved toward the kitchen. She moved into his line of vision as he was about to open the door to the lower level.
“Trey, hey, you got a minute?”
His hand stayed on the knob. “I came to talk to Lance real quick, then I’m heading back out.”
Something about him right now, in his camouflage shorts and T-shirt and Miami Heat hat, touched her heart. This was her little brother.
“Just a few minutes, Trey? We haven’t had any time to talk.”
“Talk?” He said it as if he’d never heard the word. “When do we ever talk?”
“That’s part of what I wanted to talk about,” Kendra said. “I wanted to apologize.”
He looked skeptical, but his hand came off the knob. “All right, I can take a sec.” He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door.
Kendra sat at the table and swigged her water, feeling drained from the heat.
Trey cut a slice of chocolate silk pie—a treat Lance had brought home after she’d said chocolate was the one thing she didn’t seem to gag over. Trey poured a glass of milk and brought his slice to the table.
He forked up a bite. “So what’s up?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re right.” Kendra’s hands rested on the bottle in front of her. “I was in a busy season at work, and to be honest, it seemed like Mom’s illness took a nosedive at the worst possible time.” The irony. Was illness ever timely? “I offered to come home and help care for her, but frankly I was relieved when she said there was no need. I figured you were here. Dad was here. I could do what I needed to do at work.”
He stared at her while he took his next bite.
“But I should’ve asked you how it was going. I should’ve scheduled more visits, just to be here. For support. Because we’re family. When your nose is to the grind, it seems like it’s the most important thing.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Trey. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for Mom, for you, for the family.”
He ate the last piece and tipped the glass to his mouth, taking a long drink. “That’s what you wanted to say?”
Kendra looked at him, ready to take it all back. But she had to keep going. “Not all of it, no.” She gathered her words. “I just feel like I haven’t been the sister I should’ve been. I haven’t taken the time to call and talk to you. I mean, really talk. I don’t know you like I’d like to, and that saddens me. Trey, I’m sorry for the kind of sister I’ve been. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Where is all this coming from?” He finished the glass and wiped a milk stain from his lip. “I mean, for real, you act like you’re on your death bed or something.”
Kendra stared at him. “And you wouldn’t care if I was.” She pushed back and got up from the table, apparently too fast, because at once she felt woozy and dropped back down, half missing the chair.
Trey came around to her side. “Ken, are you okay?”
“Keep your fake concern, Trey. Just . . . go talk to Lance.”
She put the bottle to her lips, but when the water hit her mouth . . . Don’t. Don’t. She dry heaved twice, then ran into the first-floor bathroom and vomited. Thankfully, it wasn’t a lot.
Kendra flushed the toilet, washed her hands, and splashed water on her face.
Trey appeared in the bathroom mirror. “What’s going on? Are you pregnant?”
She closed her eyes, feeling her stomach working its way up again. “No, I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you sick? The flu or something?”
“Yeah. Or something.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “Well, what is it?”
She turned to face him. “I was planning to tell you, but when you didn’t care one iota about anything I was saying, I said forget it.”
He spread his hands in defense. “I only asked where it was coming from.”
“You know what? I’m done.” Nausea was rising, and she needed to make it upstairs so she could get sick in private. “Do what you came to do. I need to lie down.”
Kendra brushed past him and started up the stairs, making it a third of the way—and lost total strength. Her legs gave way and she missed a step, stumbling partway down.
She heard Trey shouting for Lance as he came to her, lifting her up. Seconds later, Lance had bounded up and met them on the stairs as Trey helped her to her room.
“What happened?” Lance said.
Trey lowered her to the bed. “That’s what I’m wondering,” he said. “Kendra got faint and vomited downstairs, then got weak on the stairs. Somebody tell me what’s going on.”
Lance looked to Kendra.
“You can tell him,” she said, closing her eyes.
“Trey, Kendra was diagnosed with something called inflammatory breast cancer,” Lance said. “It’s already spread to her neck. The doctors say it’s terminal, and she’s started chemo.”
Seconds passed, and Trey hadn’t responded, so Kendra opened her eyes. He’d fallen to a crouch against the wall, his head buried in his arms.
“Why is life such a freaking joke?” His shoulders shook with tears. “It’s a joke. You know?” He looked up at them, wiping his nose. “First God takes my mom. Then my dad is gone, and was never who we thought he was anyway. And now my sister is dying?”
He stood suddenly. “This is how much of a joke life is.” He laughed his pain. “My sister is dying, and I’m the one who wants to die.” He looked up. “You got it backwards, God! I’m the one who’s supposed to have the terminal diagnosis. Just take it from her and give it to me!”
“Come here.” Kendra reached her hand to him.
Trey came and hugged her so tight she could barely breathe. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Ken. I’m so sorry. If I could switch places with you, I would.”
“Shh.” She rubbed his back. “Stop saying that, Trey.”
His tears wet her face, and he held her in his arms until she drifted to sleep.