I drop onto the cushion and place my palms on my knees.
What am I doing here?
He lowers himself beside me and holds out a tattered shoebox.
My gaze swivels between him and the object. "What is this?" Sweat slithers across my palms.
"Open it."
I take it carefully. This is something of value. Cradling it in my lap, he lifts the lid, and I peer inside. The first thing that comes into view is a faded photograph of a boy, maybe seventeen or eighteen, with a younger girl tucked under his arm. Both are too thin, and he has a bruise on his jaw. I take a closer look and jerk my gaze to Marcus. "This is you." My eyes water as his form blurs.
Marcus nods and points at the girl. "And that's Ken."
At him speaking her name, the lump in my throat becomes unbearable. I've known about her for so long, but I never allowed myself to look her up on the remote chance I would put a face to the guilt.
I scan her every feature. She had Marcus's eyes. They shone with happiness despite their life having been anything but. The appearance of both made that clear. A sob chokes me. "I'm so sorry," I rasp the apology.
His thumb swipes away the lone tear that is running down my cheek. "That is not why I'm showing you this."
My hold on the photo tightens, the skin around my nails turning white from the pressure.
Marcus draws me to his side. "Ken was all I had. Mom died when Ken was two. An aneurysm."
My eyes widen, and I scan his face. Marcus closes himself off as he continues to speak. "Aneurysms are generally not hereditary. However, if there have been cases in your family, the risk of you having one is higher than the average." He draws in a shuddering breath. "I have no idea if what happened to Ken was caused by the accident or because our mother died of…one, or if it could've been prevented. But your father left the operating room, and it was easier to blame someone rather than accept that it was an unavoidable fluke or coincidence. Your father…andyoubecame the enemy."
I can't control the stream of tears wetting my cheeks, and Marcus guides my face toward him with one finger. "I see now that it was not your fault."
His cloudy form becomes hazier, and I can no longer contain my quivering lips.
"I owe you an apology." His thumb strokes over my cheekbone, stopping the tears from falling.
I shake my head, blowing out a shaky breath. "What if she could've been saved?"
Suddenly, I'm catapulted into the past, and that night replays in my mind in vivid detail.
Celine is pacing the small,sterile-smelling room for the hundredth time. We arrived at the hospital's emergency department what feels like hours ago. Being out of immediate danger, I got transferred from the stretcher to this bed and hooked up to monitors that will not stop making sounds.
Celine has her cell phone plastered to her ear. She's still drenched, her clothes clinging to her thin frame. "No, you don't understand. You need to page Victor NOW! Denielle—"
I tune her out again. Oli sits on my bed, clutching my hand that doesn't have the IV between both of his. He's dressed in scrubs that one of the nurses brought him, and they are too big. Celine had refused the offering, continuing to call my father's department.
"Oli, I'm fine," I whisper hoarsely. My throat feels like the time I had strep throat and couldn't swallow for days without gagging.
My big brother looks so small. "I know, Nelle." His fingers tighten their hold.
I heard the paramedics talking to each other. Oli found me. He jumped into the pool, trying to drag me to the edge. He wasn't strong enough, though, and Celine went in as well. I was breathing on my own before the ambulance arrived, but they took me to the hospital anyway.
The entire time they checked me out next to the pool, Celine wouldn't stop repeating, "This is all my fault."
It wasn't. That much I know, even at my young age. What exactly happened, I don't understand.Not yet.I was upset over something… What had I been sad about? Mom's picture.
I had flipped through a book before dinner and had found one of Mom's photos tucked between the pages. She was smiling at the camera. Memories assaulted me like a tidal wave.
I walkedout on the patio to ask Mommy for a snack. Daddy had taken Oli to play golf. She didn't respond to my calls. Where was she?
I rounded the house to the pool, and that was when I saw her.Her hair. The dark strands floated under the surface in waves, like the mermaids' hair in my favorite fairy-tale book. But this wasn't a mermaid. This was my mommy. I ran to the side of the pool, ready to help her.
My parents' voices filled my ears as I kneeled at the side, fingers curled around the edge and dipped in the water. "Don't ever get in the pool without one of us, Denielle. You can swim, but you never know when you'll get tired. We don't want anything happening to you."