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There’s this pain and it cuts right through me. Past my heart, past my soul. I place the egg on the table and slide my hand over hers. “I don’t want you to die.”
That’s the moment when the entire room had fallen silent. The moment when everyone had been shifting away from their current conversation and had yet to begin another. There’s wetness in my eyes and Olivia moves her hand so that she’s now offering me comfort with the slightest squeeze.
“I have always loved you,” she says.
I clutch her hand back because I think I love her, too. What causes this wound in my chest to bleed is how I learned to care for someone and now I have to let them go. It feels too cruel, too mean. My gut twists and my face contorts with the agony.
She holds my hand tighter. “It’s okay, Emily. I know.”
“It doesn’t seem fair...to have just now met you when you’ve always been here. It’s just...” No other words. “Not fair.”
“Death never is, and most of the time neither is life.” She pauses. “Emily, it’s not enough for you to care about me. I want you to care for your father, my son.”
I’m shaking my head because I don’t want to hear an
ything else, but because it’s Olivia and she does whatever she desires she continues, “Do you know why Eli has all those stars tattooed on his arm?”
My muscles lock up as I become paralyzed by the silent stares of the room. I’m crippled by this moment.
“There’s one star for each year of your life. The shaded-in ones are the years that he saw you. The ones that have no color represent the years that his life was empty without you. You want to make a dying woman happy? Don’t let him go another year tattooing an empty star on his arm.”
My windpipe constricts and even if I could talk I wouldn’t know what to say. The back screen door in the kitchen opens and the creak fills the deafening void of silence.
A clearing of a throat and I force myself to forget the other women and the occasional hand that lifts to wipe at tears as I meet the eyes of my cousin Chevy.
He and I, we haven’t interacted much. Haven’t said more than a “hi” or a “bye.” He’s around Oz a lot and he also comes over daily to check on Olivia. I never showed an interest in him because he never showed an interest in me, but Oz is right. I never fully engaged.
“Hi, Chevy.” My voice is raspy and rough, but I need to try.
His eyes flicker between me and Olivia and he nods at me as if he senses all the chaotic words in my mind that I don’t have the ability to speak. “Hey, Emily.”
“How are you?” I say, and I hear how awkward it sounds, but how else do I start?
Reminding me of Eli, he pulls on his earlobe, but there are no plugs in Chevy’s ears. “Good. You?”
I’m a freaking basket case. “I’m doing well.”
He clears his throat again. “Some of us are going to be hanging out together once dinner begins.” Chevy tosses his hand in the air to indicate a direction that I don’t quite comprehend. “We’ll be on the other side of the yard.” A yank at the neckline of his shirt. “People our age. Me, Oz, Razor, Stone, a few others. Maybe Violet.”
Oz, maybe Violet...a moment where I could get to know my cousin... “Sounds good.”
“Eli said I have her for an hour.” Olivia saves us both from dying of trying too hard. “My eggs aren’t done being shelled and I have five more minutes.”
The women part as Chevy strides through the kitchen. He’s tall and broad-shouldered and most of them have to press against the wall or fridge to let him pass. There’s a kind spark in his dark eyes as he inclines his head toward the yard. “I’ll finish cracking the eggs while you go get some fresh air. Make sure you find Eli, though.”
Pressure on my hand from Olivia confirms she approves. I could hug Chevy for rescuing me from this uncomfortable moment, but instead I smile.
He flicks his chin in understanding and the entire room groans and starts harassing him the moment he pops one of the hard-boiled eggs into his mouth.
I walk out the door and lift my face to the sky. Who would have guessed that I could learn to like so many people—especially people who are so different from me?
Oz
EMILY SLIPS OUT the back door to the kitchen and I glance around. The men are either hanging in the clubhouse, setting up tables and chairs in the yard or manning the grills full of hot dogs and hamburgers. Behind the house, there’s no one.
Emily pauses when she sees me then flashes this soft smile. I like that look on her. I’d die a happy man if I saw that expression every day.
I stride over to her and link our hands together. “Do you trust me?”
