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“I know, Mom. I’m sorry. Why don’t you take the kitten and sit down? I’ll make you some tea.”
I offer Aurora over into her arms then guide her to a seat at the breakfast bar. She gives the cat long strokes with her hand. Rory is so grateful she purrs as loud as a freight train. I know my mother prefers the water boiled on the stove old-school, but I think she needs the chamomile more than her preferences.
I place her favorite mug in the microwave and wait. The cat finally wriggles away from her, so she’s left empty once more. With the tea bag finally floating, I set the mug in front of her and watch the fragrance along with the steam rise to greet her face. She closes her eyes, allowing it to invade her senses.
“Thank you, my sweet boy. You shouldn’t have taken so much time from your day to drive out here. Dylan needs tending.”
“Mom, my whole family needs me. Dylan’s fine. She’s sitting with Wes tonight while I’m here. You all rallied around me when I needed it. Would you expect me to do any less in return?”
“No, darling. Of course not.”
“How has she been since she showed up here? What are the next steps?”
As I finish my questions, my father appears in the entryway from his office. “I thought I heard your voice, Son.”
“Hey, Dad. Yeah. I need to know what the plan is. How do we help her?” My father takes his place beside my mother. His hand slides carefully over her back, resting on her spine, while the other pulls the teacup closer for her to reach. No one speaks again until she’s had a couple of long sips. There’s a look exchanged between them. “What is that? Is there something I should know?”
My mother nods to my father as if giving him permission, but permission for what. I watch him take a deep breath in and out then raise his chin. I’ve seen him do this a thousand times before. He’s done it when he’s had to let someone go. He’s done it in very tenuous board meetings. He’s done it when he’s breaking news to anyone that is particularly difficult.
“Eli, maybe we should step into the living room so we can all sit together.”
“Okay, no. Now you’re scaring the shit out of me. Please someone just tell me what the hell is happening.”
“Elijah, what’s going on with your sister is not new for us. This is something she’s dealt with on and off since we first realized it at the age of thirteen.”
My mother tries to reach across the countertop to offer her hand. My shock won’t allow me to take it. In fact, I take a couple of steps back into the middle of the room. “Thirteen? Nine years? You kept this from me for nine years?”
“Darling, we discovered it during your winter finals that year. Then you were off to Vermont, just before you came home for the holiday. We were still getting a handle on things. Once you were home, Hayley seemed to blossom again. We asked her if we should tell you and she was mortified. It was and is a delicate balance. We do the best we can each time.”
“Each time? How many times, Mom? How many?” I can hear the tone in my voice. I’m really trying to keep it in check. I have a feeling I’m going to fail miserably.
My mother opens her mouth to try and answer. I can see her eyes go from exhaustion to filled with sorrow in the last syllable of my question. She can see the disappointment, betrayal, and anger in mine. My father finally removes his hand from her back to thread his fingers with hers instead before answering the question she seems unable or unwilling to answer.
“This is her fifth incident in nine years. Only one has been worse than this. That was while you were on your honeymoon with Victoria. She was hospitalized for a couple of days to get her back on track.”
“Wait. Let me get this straight. My sister has had an illness that I didn’t know about for nine years, she’s been hospitalized now twice, and it seems to me the only explanation I’m being given is that I was unavailable for consultation. Am I close?”
“Think about how your sister feels, Elijah,” my father offers. “This originally started with some girl drama in some very hard formative years. She wants you to think of her a certain way. She’s been terrified that this would make you think less of her. Try and understand.”
“So now not only was I not told because I was seemingly absent, but now because I would make her feel bad about something she can’t control. Is that how you think of me?”
“Don’t make this about Mom and Dad, Eli. Don’t make this about you either. This is about me. If you want to hate someone, hate me.” Hayley’s quivering voice echoes from the bottom of the stairs in the foyer. “They were only doing what I asked them to do. I put them in a shitty position, I still am. Be pissed at me. Please? I’m the one who deserves it.”
The disgust I have right now for my parents takes a back seat to the tears of my sister. I can’t even look at them as I leave the confines of the kitchen to the two-level foyer. I feel like I can breathe out here, but in the same breath, have my heart ripped farther from my chest as I pull her off that bottom step and into my arms.
Hayley wraps her legs around my waist with her arms around my neck. Her face buries deep into my neck as her tears begin to drip across my collarbone. One of my hands wraps around her back, over her rib cage, as the other anchors her head to me.
I don’t know how I didn’t notice it in Seattle. Maybe it was the shock of what happened and the rush to just understand what was wrong with her, but I can feel a deterioration to her body. She was never a big girl to begin with. I remember teasing her sometimes that she was going to blow away with the wind someday. I regret every time I teased her about it, especially when now I know it was something deeper and darker for her.
“I would have been here for you, Hayley. I could have done something. I could have watched over you. I should have been protecting you.”
“Don’t. Don’t do that. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. It’s all mine.”
I walk around with her in my arms. We pace several rooms of the house. I finally settle down in the front room. The setting sun is still allowing its rays to enter the windows. Whether Hayley’s shaking from being cold, letting go of a secret that’s been haunting her, or from the beating her body has been taking, I want… I need to get her warm.
We curl up on the sofa. She pulls her knees in tight to my sides, as she turns her face inward, so her cheek is now resting against my chest. This girl is still my girl, just a little more broken than I realized. She does something so familiar to me. She tugs the sleeves of her sweatshirt over her fingers, leaving only the tips visible. She begins to gnaw on the thumbnail of her right hand. Her sniffles let me know she’s still crying… I don’t even have to look.
I reach behind me and take the afghan that Gran made off the back of the sofa to wrap it around her. Without thinking, I begin to sway slowly. I’ve done this with her since she was born. The older I get, the more I realize this is a gift from the difference in our ages. She looks at me like a hero. I wish I felt like it. I’ve failed her so miserably in this.
