“All the time. I can’t sleep because of it.”
The cold evaporates, the uneasiness settles. It’s only me and Jenny and I’ll be strong for her.
“We’ll get you on a good sleep schedule. I promise everything will be all right.” I would give her all the promises in the world right now to keep her safe. Safe from Marcus and the world beyond these doors. Safe from herself and the memories that haunt her.
“I think I know why,” Jenny says offhandedly as if she didn’t hear me, still staring out of the window.
“Why what?”
“Why she crossed it out…” She doesn’t give me the answer until she realizes I’m staring at her, desperate for a reason. “It didn’t belong there. Hope is the best thing you can give someone, second to love. If it wasn’t there… the mom wouldn’t have killed herself.”
It’s quiet for a long time. The memories of my sister hurting herself stare me in the face, daring me to mention them and beg Jenny to realize there’s so much hope.
I cower at the thoughts, mostly because she squeezes my hand, and I’d like to think it’s because she already knows.
“If I had known it was a tragedy, I wouldn’t have read it,” I admit to her and then question why my mother would think I’d understand this book better than my sister. Why she would leave that book just for me? She wasn’t well though so there’s no reasoning there.
“That’s what you have when there’s no hope… tragedy.” Jenny’s comment doesn’t go unheard and I let the statement sit before speaking out loud.
Not really to her, more to myself.
“Hope is the opposite of tragedy. It’s a glimmer of light in utter darkness. It isn’t a long way of saying goodbye. It’s knowing you never have to say it, because whoever’s gone, is still with you. Always. That’s what hope is.”
“They really are. They’re always with us,” she remarks.
“That’s what makes it hard to say goodbye.”
“You don’t have to say goodbye,” she says softly, as if she’s considered this a million times over.
“Then how can you ever get over it?” I ask her genuinely, thoughts of her disappearance, of Mom being laid to rest playing in my mind. “How do you get over the loneliness and the way you miss them all the time?”
“Get over it?” she asks with near shock – as if she’s never thought of it that way – and I nod without conscious reason.
“How?”
“You can never get over it. Whether you say goodbye or not. Loss isn’t something you get over.” My sister isn’t indignant, or hurt. She’s simply matter of fact and the truth of it, I’ve never dared to consider. She looks me dead in the eyes and asks with nothing but compassion, “So why say goodbye? Why do it, when they’re still here and you’ll never get over it? Never.”
Jase
“I just need to know…” Bethany’s voice is desperate, a sound I’m not used to hearing from her unless she’s under me. She hasn’t laid down since I told her it’s time to go to bed. I don’t know how long it’s been since she’s slept. Instead, she sits wrapped in the covers, staring at the door.
“She’s all right.” My words intertwine with the sound of the comforter rustling as I lean closer to her and wrap my arm around her waist. I pull her closer to me, making her lean slightly so I can kiss her hair, but I don’t move her. She’ll move when she’s ready. I can wait for that.
I’ll wait for her.
“Tell me you’ll protect her.” She swallows hard after blurting out the words. Her eyes are wide and glossy. “Please. I’ll do anything.” As she speaks her last word cracks and the only thing I can hear is her thumping heart, running like mad in her chest.
“Of course I will. She’s family now.”
“Family?” she questions me as if it’s a foreign word.
“Bricks, cailín tine. I was serious when I said it, and serious about marrying you… even if you aren’t ready.”
“You really are bringing bricks and not just to fence me in, huh?” I have to laugh at her playful response. More than that, I love that she smiles. Even if it’s gentle and small, it’s there.
It falls quickly, though, as her gaze moves behind me to the door.
With one arm resting over her midsection and her other hand cradling her elbow, Jenny looks lost and uncertain as she clears her throat.
“Are you okay?” Bethany’s quick to question and rise from the bed.
“Sorry,” she answers and almost turns to leave, but Bethany stops her. “Wait. What’s wrong?”
I stay where I am. Observing and waiting. Waiting for Bethany to tell me what’s needed. Whatever it is, I’ll be ready.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You weren’t,” Bethany assures her. I have forever with Bethany, so forever can wait a moment.