An Unstill Life (22 page)

She nodded, a goofy half-smile crossing her face. “Yeah. So nice to be home.”

“Good.” I couldn’t see how this was nice for her, but I guess anything would be a pleasant change after all those weeks in the hospital and the chemicals they’d been filling her with.

“Where have you been?” Jules glanced out the window at the darkness. “I haven’t seen you.”

“School. You know how it is…” I trailed off. Maybe she didn’t want to be reminded of everything she’d done before.

“I know.” She sank back onto her pillows, breathing heavily. Her eyes closed for a second, then opened again. “It’s November, right?”

“December.” I touched her face again. “It’s the fourth of December.”

Jules brightened, her eyes focusing and fixing on me. “The Winter Formal’s on the fourteenth. You’re going, aren’t you Livvie?”

She looked so eager. Her eyes shone with a light I hadn’t seen in them for so long. How could I spoil it for her?

“Yeah.” The word was tugged from my mouth by an invisible force and danced through the air trailing ribbons of yellow and green.

“Oh, good!” Jules smiled again, this one not drugged but genuine. “Can I help with your dress? Your hair? Oh…” She trailed off, her face crumpling in pain, eyes clouding with it. Her hand flew to her back, and she groaned.

“Jules? What is it?” I leaned over her, fear clutching at me with fingers of ice.

She clutched at her spine, writhing on the narrow bed and making small animal-like whimpers.

“I’ll get Mom.” I dashed across the room and was gone before I had a chance to even register what I’d said.

“Mom! Jules—” I had no idea where she was, but somehow knew she was there. I called up the stairs and through the open door to the kitchen. “Mom!”

Seconds later, Mom flew through the door. She pushed me aside and leaned over the bed where Jules thrashed and moaned.

“It’s all right, sweetie,” Mom murmured as she fumbled in a drawer next to the bed. “I’ll give you something. It’ll be all right in a minute.” She pulled a syringe out of the drawer and filled it from a small glass vial. I watched, fascinated as the clear liquid surged into the plastic chamber.

“Livvie, can you hold her still?” Mom didn’t even glance in my direction, but I moved, leaning over the bed to hold Jules’s vibrating body against the bed while Mom found the plastic tube that sprouted from her chest. I looked away. I knew Jules was sick, knew she was dying, but until I saw that small length of tubing peeking out from the neck of her nightgown, it hadn’t felt real. She was still my sister, older, wiser, and stronger than me. But she wasn’t. That piece of rubber and plastic made that clear.

“There you are,” Mom murmured and I looked back, watching as she injected the contents of the syringe into the end of the tube.

Only seconds later, Jules relaxed. The violent motion of her limbs stilled and the moaning stopped. Her breathing evened out, and her face slackened from its grimace of pain.

“What was that?” I looked up at Mom in wonder.

“Morphine.” Mom tossed the syringe into a wastebasket that already held several of them. “We’re just doing what we can to manage the pain now.”

I swallowed hard, wondering what had happened to her transplant plan. Managing pain. What an odd phrase. How could you manage pain? And at what point was it unmanageable? Was that the point when Jules would tell me to… How would I do it? I watched the delicate movements of Jules’s eyelids as she drifted into her drugged sleep. How could I have let Bianca and my problems at school overshadow her? Now she was back in the forefront of my mind, and I knew I had to deal with it, had to come up with a plan. My hands shook, and I jammed them in my pocket to keep Mom from seeing them.

She looked at me then, her eyes meeting mine. Her lips tightened, and she straightened up, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead. “So, you decided to come home, did you? Have you any idea how worried we’ve been?”

I stared at her. If she was worried, she could have called. I was never far from my phone. But when did I last charge it? I couldn’t remember.

“Let your sister sleep.” Mom ushered me out of the room. “I assume you’ve been with that…that girl?”

I cringed at the way she sneered the word girl, curdling it in sickly shades of yellow. I hated myself for cringing. Where was the new Livvie, the strong, tough girl who could look kids in the eye as they condemned her for her choices? I’d lost her. “Yeah. I’m staying at Bianca’s. Unless you need me here?”

I studied her worn face, the tight lips pressed in against her teeth. Her hair was tied into a messy knot at the back of her head and hung in limp, greasy clumps around her face. For a moment I thought she was going to break down, let that steely facade drop away and ask for my help.

She straightened her spine and brushed her hair back from her face. “We’re fine, Olivia. You don’t have to stay.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

I
fled the house, not looking back once. My feet pounded the sidewalk with navy blue that splashed up behind me like water. I hated leaving Jules there, but Mom hadn’t given me any choice. She’d pretty much said she didn’t want me around. And I wasn’t staying somewhere I wasn’t wanted. A part of me whispered that I was wanted, that even if Mom didn’t want me, Jules did, but that part was drowned out by the louder voice telling me to escape.

I stopped at the corner, doubled over and breathless from running. The wind whipped across my face, drying tears before they had a chance to fall. Good. I didn’t want to cry. If I started, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop. I pictured an ocean of tears flooding the street, washing away everyone who hurt me. Mom hurtled by, shrieking something as the bitter torrent carried her off. There were Hannah and Mel, hands clasped by their boyfriends as a wave crested beneath them. Because I was imagining, I tossed my father in there too, his barely remembered face sinking beneath the sea of tears.

My phone burred in my pocket, jolting me away from my fantasy just as I was tossing my third-grade teacher into the mire. I flipped it open and saw Bianca’s name on the display. Bianca. I’d forgotten to tell her I’d left. She’d be wondering where I was. I glanced at the time, surprised to see it was only three thirty. It felt like an eternity had passed since I left school.

where are u? been waiting. u ok?

My fingers quivered, but I managed to fumble a text back.

b there in 10. sorry.
I’d explain when I saw her.

She was huddled at the bottom of the steps when I reached the school, her coat wrapped around her knees.

“What happened?” She jumped up, heading for me.

“Sorry… I just couldn’t face History. Not after…”

She nodded and moved closer, running a cold finger across my cheek, just below my eye. “You’ve been crying.”

I ducked my head. Was it that obvious? I thought the wind had wiped them away. “I went home. Jules is there.”

“Oh, Livvie.” Bianca reached for my arm, but I stepped away. We were still on school grounds, and even if they looked deserted, there might be some sneaky person peeking through a window.

Bianca’s shoulders stiffened, and I saw the hurt pass through her eyes. “So, how is she?”

I shrugged. How could I explain? “She’s dying.” The word crashed to the ground between us and lay there, dark and throbbing like some eviscerated organ. I couldn’t pass it, couldn’t even move to put it behind me.

Bianca ignored the stiffness in my shoulders and wrapped an arm around them. “Let’s go home, huh?”

I nodded and let her guide me up the street. I felt frayed and ragged, as if part of me had been torn away. Talking, even to Bianca, seemed too much for me. I think she felt the same. We drifted toward her house without a word.

The back door yawned open, and we stepped inside. Trish leaped out of her chair so fast that it tumbled to the floor with a clatter.

She flew across the kitchen and enveloped us both in a huge hug. “I just heard. You poor kids. I’m so mad I could spit! I have half a mind to go over to that school of yours and tell your principal a thing or two.”

For a moment I was confused, bewildered by her comment, but then I remembered what had happened at school. It had been only hours ago, yet it felt as if an entire lifetime had passed.

“Mom!” Bianca pulled away, her eyes wide with horror. “No way, Mom. Please don’t do anything like that. It’s a dance. A stupid dance. We don’t want to go anyway.”

“Even if you don’t, it’s a matter of principle, B. The school should not be allowed to get away with this.”

I squirmed out from where I was pressed against Trish’s large breast and retreated to where Bianca stood. “Please, Trish. We just want this to go away.”

“Go away?” Trish’s eyes raked across me, leaving gouges in my flesh. “That’s what they’d like us to do. Go away. Stay out of sight. But that’s not right. I can’t believe you’re not mad about this. I’ve been seething ever since that sanctimonious principal of yours phoned me this afternoon. I feel like we’ve warped back to nineteen seventy or something. We marched against this back then, you know.”

“Mom, I know.” Bianca rolled her eyes. “And I’m all for gay rights, you know that. Equality for all. But we have to go to that school every day and face those asshole kids. If we let it alone, some other scandal will come up, and they’ll forget about us. If you get all your dykes on bikes to storm the football field, we’ll still be dealing with the fallout next year.”

Trish bent and picked up the chair, her eyes not leaving Bianca’s face. She sat down. “You’re just going to let them get away with this.” The statement sank through the air like a lead pipe. I shuffled my feet. She was right. I knew it with every molecule in every cell. But Bianca was right, too.

“It’s not exactly getting away—” I began.

Trish didn’t let me finish. “That’s exactly what it is. You’re bowing to their will. I thought I brought you up to be tougher than that, Bianca. I thought I brought you up to stand up for what you believe in.” She stood up and stalked out of the room. A moment later I heard a door slam.

Bianca sank into the chair her mother had just vacated. “She just doesn’t get it.”

“No, she does.” I shook my head, the anger crawling through my belly like some monster trying to escape. It was hot and tasted bitter, acidic. I clung to that feeling, keeping Trish’s furious voice pouring through my consciousness. I wore it like a shawl, coiling it tighter around me, using it to keep out the thoughts and feelings I couldn’t cope with.

“We can’t let her get involved.” Panic leaped through Bianca’s words, bolts of flickering yellow and crimson. “She and her girlfriends are so political. We’ll be on the cover of
Time
magazine in a week if they get into it.”

The thought of it made me smile. I pictured Mom at the newsstand by the station, rows of magazines with my face on the cover. The headline was obscured, but the word ‘gay’ blazed out in bold letters. No, I didn’t want that. Or did I?

Trish stamped back into the room, her purse slung over her shoulder. She opened it, pulled out her wallet and tossed a handful of crumpled bills to the table. “I gotta go to the club. Order something for dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She started for the door.

“Mom.” Bianca got up and grabbed her arm. “Don’t you remember high school? You’ve told me how much you hated it. Please, don’t make this harder for us than it already is. It’s a dance. One stupid dance. Crepe paper streamers in the gym and bad punch someone will spike by nine p.m. It’s not worth ruining the next two years for. Unless you want to move into the next school district. Or pay for Catholic school.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Trish’s mouth. “Catholic school? You have no idea how tempting that sounds. Those little skirts…”

“Mom!” Bianca slapped at her arm. “Gross.”

“Okay. A little gross. But think about it, girls. It’s not just a dance. It’s discrimination. And it’s illegal. I understand that fighting it puts you into a vulnerable position, but think about what position not fighting it puts you in. And anyone else like you who might come through that place. Hiding from this won’t make it go away.”

“We’ll think about it.” Bianca nodded, and so did I. Did Trish really believe we
hadn’t
been thinking about it?

“See you tomorrow.” Trish kissed Bianca’s cheek and gave my shoulder a friendly squeeze. I smiled, watching as she crashed through the door and headed up the driveway.

“Time for bed?” Bianca raised her eyebrows at me.

I frowned. I wanted nothing more than to fall into bed with her. I needed to forget everything, and her body against mine was the perfect eraser. But I couldn’t do it. The whisper at the back of my mind was growing louder. Jules needed me. Yes, Bianca did, too, but I had years, a lifetime to spend with Bianca. Jules might have only a few weeks.

“I want to, but…” I looked up at her, hoping my eyes didn’t show the same hurt and confusion hers did. “I have to go home, Bianca. I need to spend time with Jules.”

“What about your mom?” She frowned at me, her expression turning to concern.

I shook my head. “I’ll just have to deal with her. I love being here with you, but it’s hiding out. I can’t do it forever. Jules doesn’t have that long.”

After a long silence, Bianca nodded. “You’re a good sister. And a good friend.”

I leaned over and kissed her, breathing in her delicious raspberry scent as if I could hold it inside me forever. “So are you.”

Mom was there when I got home, pacing the kitchen like a caged lion.

“There you are.” She whirled around at the sound of the door clicking shut. “I was wondering when you’d be back.”

I just stared at her. Didn’t she tell me she didn’t need me? That my presence was unwanted? She ignored my gaze, darting around the kitchen picking things up and throwing them down at random. It was like a nervous tic and the anger roiling in my belly took on an edge of panic.

“What’s going on?” I took one cautious step into the room, checking behind me to make sure the path to the door was still clear. My path back to Bianca.

She stopped, lowering a ceramic jar to the counter. “I’ve found a new treatment for Julie. There’s a doctor in Mexico who’s developed a new drug. It’s experimental, but over one hundred people have been treated by him and are clear of all symptoms. I’ve sent him Julie’s notes.” She gave an excited smile. “Isn’t that wonderful?” She thrust a crumpled sheet of newspaper in my direction.

I bit my lip. “Uh… Yeah. It’s great. But Mexico? Won’t that be expensive?” I scanned the page, noting the name of a cheap tabloid at the top of the page. How did we get from a transplant, to managing pain, to taking medical advice from
The National Enquirer
?

“Yes.” She nodded, her brow furrowing again, the excitement draining from her. “But if it will save Julie, we’ll have to make sacrifices. We can’t wait for a donor much longer. I’ll probably have to re-mortgage the house…”

Alarm bells rang in my head. “Mom, is that smart? I mean, you haven’t worked in a while… Can you afford…?”

She gritted her teeth and glared at me. “How can I work when your sister is so sick? She needs me. As for the repayments, well, I’ll figure it out.”

Her eyelid twitched, and she looked away. I wanted to pursue it. She couldn’t have had too much in the way of savings, and who knew how much Jules’s treatments had already cost. We had insurance, but how much did that cover?

“Didn’t you say you had a donor?” I wrapped my hands around the back of a kitchen chair.

Her lips pressed into a thin white line. “Someone else was a better match.”

Oh. The air seethed with unsaid words, was pregnant with them.

“Does Jules know?” I asked finally.

“Of course. I told her right away. But she’s excited about Mexico now.” Her eyelid spasmed more violently this time. Stress, maybe? Or was she lying?

“Really?” The word slipped out without my wanting it to and as soon as it blazed through the air, I wanted to take it back.

“Of course.” There was a waver in her voice, an almost questioning tone, as if she was trying to convince herself as well as me.

I crossed the room, brushing past her on my way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

I ignored the shrillness of her tone and kept walking through the hallway and into the living room.

“Jules?” I didn’t care if I woke her. I wanted to. “Hey, Jules!”

“Livvie?” Sleepiness blurred her words, but her eyes were open.

I tried to smile but my lips trembled. “Mom told me about Mexico.”

Her face darkened, storm clouds sweeping in to block out the sun. “Did she?” The fuzziness was gone from her voice, replaced by a knife-edge. “I’m not going.”

Mom had followed me in and stood just behind me. “Don’t be so silly, Julie. Of course you’re going. It’s the miracle we’ve been waiting for, sweetheart. It’s going to make you well.”

Jules struggled to sit up, and I couldn’t watch. My sister was an athlete. Such a simple movement should not have left her huffing and blowing as if she’d run a marathon.

“I’m not going,” she repeated when she’d managed to catch her breath. “I’m not.”

Mom turned to me with an apologetic smile. “She doesn’t know—”

“She does!” The anger that had been gnawing at me surged up my throat in a poisonous glurt. “Why don’t you listen to her? She doesn’t want your crazy treatments. She doesn’t want any of it.”

“She’s sick! She doesn’t understand…”

“Mom, I do.” Jules’s voice was low but still managed to force its way through. “I get it. I understand. But
you
need to understand that I don’t want this. I don’t.”

Mom faltered for a second, but it was so quick I almost missed it. She reached out and straightened the sheet covering Jules. “It’s experimental, yes, but the results are too good to ignore. We’ll go and it will work. In six months we’ll be laughing about this.” Her lips pulled back over her teeth in an attempt at a grin, but her eyes resembled those of a trapped animal.

I shook my head, disbelieving. Jules sighed and I took her hand, squeezing it once. She squeezed back.

“Mom.” I forced the anger away and tried as hard as I could to sound calm and rational. “If Jules doesn’t want to go, I don’t think you should make her. This treatment sounds kind of crazy to me. I mean, is this guy a real doctor?”

Mom turned on me. “You don’t know anything about this, Olivia. Nothing! So keep out of it. It’s not like you’d be coming anyway.”

I tossed the calm rational mask away and let the fury take over again. “Maybe I don’t know anything about it, but only because you don’t talk to me. Jules is my sister, Mom. And you’ve barely let me near her in months. But when I do get to see her, I actually listen to what she has to say. Which is more than you seem capable of.”