I turned to ice,
dripping slow,
leaking,
in the heat of that question.
Will I die
young?
What kind of
question was that?
I swallowed,
glanced at my sister.
She stared at the planchette,
waiting for an answer.
Behind her
I saw the night sky
held back
by the single French door
and that yellowed lace curtain.
I saw the pale line
of the part on her head,
and falling forward.
I have always wanted hair that color.
Not so blond as mine is.
It’s not saying anything,
Liz said.
Give it time.
I said in a whisper.
How do I fix
this?
I thought.
I have to take care of
Lizzie.
And she has to take care of me.
There was something
heavy
in my stomach.
But I jiggled
like it was getting a breath of
life.
It’s going,
Liz said.
She straightened,
waiting.
The board on our knees.
Our fingertips just
touching
the tear-shaped playing piece.
I glanced again at Liz.
Couldn’t see the freckles on her face,
just that crooked part of hers
in her hair.
Would it be a lie this time too?
I wondered.
You will live a long, peaceful life,
I wanted to say.
But before I could do anything,
the pointer started
on its own.
In a smooth,
slow,
steady
pace
it made its way down
to the word
good-bye.
And stopped.
Just stopped.
Liz looked at me
and I know my
eyes were surprised.
You moved that,
I said.
I didn’t,
she said.
I said.
She shook her head
no.
I spoke too
fast.
You’re staying
with me forever,
I said,
knocking the board
from our knees,
hugging her
close.
She didn’t hug me
back.
I mean that,
I said.
I mean it.
that I-can’t-breathe feeling,
would not go
away.