Winter Wishes (Sharing Space #5) (4 page)

“Myra?”

Without looking up she asked, “Do you remember Chris Hedges?”

“Who the hell is Chris Hedges?” She looked at me sharply. “Sorry. No. Who is he?”

“Junior year. He was my chem partner.”

I thought back to that year in college and had a vague memory of a dark-haired white guy with glasses. “Oh, right! He rode his skateboard all over campus. What about him?”

Myra looked down at her plate again. “Well…”

“No!”

“It just kinda happened. And then it kept happening. Next thing you know, we were a couple.”

“But you never told me. You guys never went out together. You were always in the lab… oh.”

“Right. We weren’t spending
all
of our time in the lab. And I didn’t tell you for the same reason you didn’t tell me about Patrick right away. I wanted to make sure it meant something. Plus, I was young and scared. I’d never even thought about being with a white guy before and there were no interracial couples on campus. None. I didn’t know how you’d react. I didn’t know how anyone would react.”

“What happened?” I had a feeling I was about to learn why Myra had such a hate on for white people, so that meant this story wasn’t going to have a happy ending.

“No one knew about us and for a few months; it was great. He was so affectionate and smart. It was like having the best secret in the world, you know?”

I nodded. I knew exactly what Myra meant. She continued. “One day I got out of a class early and I went to Chris’s dorm room. Remember Palmer Hall?”

Palmer Hall had been one of the newer dormitories on campus. The students lived four to a suite with a common area living room and kitchenette and four separate bedrooms. Myra didn’t wait for me to answer before continuing. “Well, I went to his room; he wasn’t there but one of his roommates didn’t mind that I went into his bedroom. I said something about dropping off notes. Then I got into his bed, butt-ass naked.”

“You did not!”

“Girl, young and dumb. I did. And I fell asleep waiting for him. His roommate must have come in at some point and put it all together. Anyway, when I woke up I could hear Chris and the guy talking in the living room. He was giving him a hard time about us. You know how guys are. But then… then I heard Chris say that he liked me, but he was just having fun. That it couldn’t go anywhere.”

Myra’s voice grew shaky and, even though she was still looking at the table, I could tell she was crying. “And then he said, ‘My sister brought a black guy home once and my parents lost their shit. My mother said she would never have any nigger grandkids and made my sister break it off. Myra’s nice and all, but this can’t be more than just hitting it.’”

I blew out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My body instantly reacted to the word
nigger
like I’d been slapped. It didn’t matter that it was Myra repeating it in a story. It was still such an ugly word. I wanted to go over and comfort Myra in some way, but she was already standing to scrape the leftovers on her plate into the trash.

“I got dressed, pretended to still be asleep when he came in, and then broke things off. The fact that he didn’t fight me on it told me I was doing the right thing.”

“Myra, if I’d have known… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.”  Myra turned to face me, leaned against the counter, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I loved him and I thought he loved me. But you know what? In the end it wouldn’t have mattered, because his family’s hate was always going to be stronger.”

***

I stepped off the elevator onto the fifth floor
, balancing drink carriers of coffee cups in each hand and a duffel bag over my shoulder. A few of the Murphy family members were missing from the waiting room when I entered, but I found Patrick sitting next to Cate. I’d barely managed to place the coffee on a nearby table before Patrick pulled me in for a tight hug.

“You didn’t have to come back so soon.” He kissed my lips and lingered there a moment. I savored the feel of his mouth against mine, but soon pulled away. It felt weird displaying public affection around his family, especially at a time like this.

“Of course I did. How is she?”

He shook his head sadly. “No real change. I got to see her, but just for a few minutes.”

I handed him the bag. “I know you’re not going to leave so I brought you a change of clothes. Shoes, too. There are some toiletries in there and your phone charger. Have you eaten?”

“The coffee will be fine.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

“No—”

“Patrick, you have to take care of yourself. Go get cleaned up and changed. I’ll run down to the cafeteria and get you something to eat.”

“Listen to her, Patrick.” Cate said firmly. “You smell ripe.”

While Patrick did as he was told, Cate and I went to the hospital cafeteria and purchased sandwiches and drinks for the family. In the elevator back to the ICU, she thanked me for being there.

“You don’t have to thank me, Cate. I care about Patrick.” I said.

“No. Thank you for being here for all of us. I know Patrick had been dealing with Charlotte on his own. We’ve all been so caught up in our own lives and jobs that we failed to see how far she’d slipped.”

Like the rest of the Murphy family, Cate looked like she’d tossed on the nearest clothes she could find when getting the news about Charlotte. And like the others, lack of sleep and worry was all over her face. “It’s going to be okay,” I said lamely.

She gave me a weak smile. “I really don’t think it is, but I appreciate you saying it anyway.”

*** 

Hours passed without any change or news. The detective Patrick had spoken to the night before returned to speak to his parents. They weren’t able to provide any new information on Orbit, and he was still sticking to his story that a struggle between Charlotte and the dealer was what caused the lab equipment to ignite. In addition to the couple and their young child who lived in the apartment, a friend of Charlotte’s and Orbit’s also died. Beyond that Orbit wasn’t saying much else. He’d become hostile and argumentative as his body started experiencing the early stages of withdrawal.

While his siblings would sometimes leave to make calls, checking on their spouses and children, Patrick’s parents stayed in the waiting room, only leaving once when they were allowed to visit Charlotte’s room again.

The sun was just beginning to set when Charlotte’s doctor entered the waiting room. Patrick rose from the seat next to me and walked over to him with the rest of the family. I stayed seated. I’d seen the look on the doctor’s face before. He spoke quietly and, when he was done, Mr. Murphy put a hand on Mrs. Murphy’s shoulder as she opened her mouth wide. It was as if she was yawning, at first, but the silence was broken by a scream. I’d heard that scream before, too.

We buried my sister two days before Christmas. It snowed that day, the first fall of the season. It was fitting since Charlotte loved the snow. As her casket was lowered into the ground, thick wet snowdrops fell on top of it. I remembered when we were kids, how much Charlotte loved to play in the snow. Not just the fluffy white stuff either. She’d stomp in the dirty slushy snow that gathered at the curb after the snowplows had come through our block. It drove my mother crazy.

My mother hadn’t cried all day. It seemed all she did was cry from the moment we were told Charlotte had succumbed to her injuries until that morning. As we all piled into the limo taking us to the cemetery, her eyes were dry. My father and brother Thomas sat on either side of her, so close it seemed they were propping her up.

The service was beautiful. The front row of graveside seats was reserved for family, but it was comforting to know that Chloe, Paul, and even Max were seated behind me. When it was over a procession of cars followed us back to my parents’ home, where the mourners could gather and give their condolences over coffee and casseroles.

It was the oddest thing; everyone was dressed in black and speaking in hushed tones, but the house was decorated for the holidays. The Christmas tree, a real one, was decorated in lights, family ornaments, and tinsel. Stockings for the grandchildren—my mother had long since stopped hanging stockings for her grown children—lined the fireplace. Wreaths hung in every window and there was even mistletoe in a few doorways.

From my seat near the tree I noticed a medium-sized gift expertly wrapped in red and gold paper. Charlotte’s name was on the tag. I wondered if I should try to remove it. It was obviously a gift from my parents and I was sure they’d eventually realize it was gone. Was it my place to try and spare them from the pain of realizing they’d never get to give Charlotte that gift, or any gift, ever again?

“Do you need anything?” Chloe, seated next to me, placed a hand on my arm.

“Fresh air,” I said.

We went out to the back deck, which was covered by an awning so we didn’t have to worry about the snow. I held Chloe’s hands in mine and kissed her lips. “Thank you.”

“Stop thanking me. Where else would I be?”

“You could be anywhere, but I’m happy you’re here with me.”

She put a hand to my cheek and I closed my eyes and leaned into it. Just being with Chloe made some of me hurt a little less. I looked out over the backyard. Under a blanket of snow you could barely make out the play set my parents had built for my nieces and nephews. My mind jumped back to a memory of Charlotte in the same spot where the swing set now stood.

“Winter wishes,” I said.

“What?”

“Charlotte used to make snow angels in the backyard when we were kids. The moment it stopped snowing, before anyone else could ruin it with footprints, she’d throw on her coat and hat and drag us outside to make snow angels. All of us. Even my parents. And the deal was you had to make a wish while you were doing it. You couldn’t tell anyone your wish, either. Then you had to write your name in the snow, on your angel. She said when the snow melted, your wish would begin to come true. She called them winter wishes.”

“That’s really sweet, Patrick.”

“Yeah. I didn’t think so at the time, of course.” I laughed at the memory of my entire family spread out across the backyard, making angels in the snow. “She was always the one who could do that, you know? Bring everyone together.”

“Let’s do it.” Chloe said, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a folded knit hat.

“Do what?” I looked on in confusion and she put the hat on and tucked her hair up inside it.

“Make wishes.”

Before I could stop her Chloe had grabbed my hand and was carefully leading me down the stairs. I followed her near the play set, our footsteps crunching through the snow. She lay down on the ground, tucking the skirt of her dress between her legs before placing her arms flat against her side. She closed her eyes and then began to scissor her legs open and closed while swiping her arms through the snow.

“Chloe—”

“Shhh. I’m wishing.” Then she giggled, and it sounded so much like how Charlotte would laugh that for a second it felt like my sister was there. It felt like permission. Without another thought I joined her on the ground, paying no mind to the cold as it pressed into the pant legs of my suit. I knew it was impossible to get another chance at saving Charlotte from herself, but I wished for it anyway. I stopped moving my arms and legs and looked over at Chloe. She was no longer making her angel but staring up at the sky. She spoke without looking at me.

“Patrick, I’m not going to lie and say this will one day go away, because it won’t. You’re always going to hurt. You’re always going to miss her. But it will get easier to live with. I promise.”