Page 125 of The False Flat

“Deanna,” he said. “The end is going to be . . . hard. For me, sure, but for you . . .”

I pulled my hand back from the faucet, waited as a blob of toothpaste fell onto a knot in the wood.

“I thought you were going to be positive.”

I wanted to close my ears, to turn the rain-style shower on, get in and pretend this conversation wasn’t happening, but I couldn’t. In my oversize sweatshirt and panties, I slid down to the flat rug that was edged with little white trees and wrapped my arms around my legs, my toothbrush forgotten.

“How we deal with death is at least as important as how we deal with life,” I heard Grant say. “That’s what Captain Kirk says, anyway.”

“You know I hate Star Wars.”

“Star Trek. But seriously, there’s a difference between positive and realistic. If you’re too in the moment, then you might avoid planning for the future, and you should always plan for the future.”

“We were supposed to grow old and gray together.” Her voice rose. “Me, you, William, and now Pen. That’s how it should be. That’s how I pictured it.” I heard a thud, like she’d slammed her fist against something. “That’s what I want. I want your positivity, your advice, your strength. I want my brother!” she nearly yelled as I completely lost it on the floor. Not crying was too tall of a request. “I don’t want to lose you, Grant.”

“I don’t want to lose you either, Deanna.”

I silently sobbed, my heart inching out of my chest, tears slipping into the bathroom rug.

I don’t want to lose you either, Grant.

How do I tease right now out of all the forever we might not get? How do I stop thinking about what I’m going to lose before I even get it?

How am I going to do this?

Silence pulsed beyond the door as I attempted to slow my tears, until Grant said, “Don’t think for a second I didn’t need you as much as you needed me. Not long after Mom and Dad died, Aunt Jamie tried to convince me to let you come live with them. Told me you’d be better off. Because she said that kids learn not what you teach them, but what they see, which was too much on my shoulders. She was wrong. I needed you, D, to make me who I am because I knew if I didn’t get it right, they’d all be watching, waiting to take you away from me. But most of all, I became who I am because I knew you were watching.”

“We needed each other.” Deanna’s words were muffled but still audible.

“You’re going to be okay, sister.” His words were adamant. I visualized him looking into his sister’s face. “You’re going to be okay,” he said again. Then he told her to say it.

“I’m going to be okay,” she repeated.

“Say it again but mean it this time.”

“I’m going to be okay.”

“Again.”

This time, I silently said it with her.

I’m going to be okay. I didn’t believe it for a second.

“Deanna.” He paused. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I’m going to be okay,” she repeated again.

I lay down on the rug, my fingernails ripping at the blue loops of fabric.

“And when the time comes you feel like you aren’t going to be okay anymore, remember this, when I held your face, and then repeat that phrase for as long as you have to until you are again. And when that’s not enough, when you can’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”

I heard her say she would.

I was jelly.

“This is what Penelope never got to have. There was no one there to keep her going.” He paused, then continued: “Promise me you’ll be her family too.”

“I can’t promise something will be that already is. Pen has found home, and I’m not letting her go anywhere.”