“Therewe go,” the woman said, curls bouncing. “And what is your name?”
“Sam Cleary.”
“Sam.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest and tilted her head, a dreamy smile on her painted lips. “Such a nice name.”
I gave her a nod since I didn’t trust myself to open my mouth.
“Do you have some identification on you?” After I dug around in my wallet for my license, she pursed her lips at my picture. “Room one sixty-one. And here’s your guest pass.” She batted her eyelashes, actuallybattedthem. “Sam.”
“Thanks,” I croaked and took the pass from her. Then I shot toward the left wing like my life depended on it.
The long hallway was nearly empty except for the occasional patient and/or family shuffling past. TVs blared from inside some of the rooms, and others were silent. The sharp chemical smell faded some, but it was still there, either in the gleaming checked floor underneath me or engrained deep inside my nose.
Taking a steadying breath, I took off my sunglasses and folded them over the collar of my T-shirt. One fifty-nine. One sixty. One sixty-one.
Outside her door, I raised my fist to knock, but the quiet seeping from under her door unnerved me. Last time I was here, she’d screamed her throat raw and tipped most of the furniture over in an angry/jonesing attempt at escape. Now the silence was almost too extreme for a whisper.
Maybe she wouldn’t look empty or crazy this time. Maybe she’d look more like my sister. Maybe she wouldn’t scare the living shit out of me.
I knocked, and it blasted down the quiet hallway like an explosion.
A second later, Rose opened the door. She blinked her blue eyes, as clear of makeup and drugged-out haze as I’d seen in a long time. Her long blonde hair hung shorter at just past her shoulders, and she looked rounder, healthier. Not like death warmed over. She even wore her Donald Duck slippers I used to steal from her just to throw them at her head. Between those and her yoga pants and T-shirt knotted at the side, it was like we were home again. Seeing her seemingly whole and human and sister-like burst a flood of feelings through my chest.
“SamRam?” she whispered because she must’ve felt the oppressive quiet, too.
I cleared my throat. “Rose?”
“What’s wrong with your face?” she asked.
My innate big brotherly skills, only slightly rusty in the two months since I’d seen her, kicked in at full throttle with the lamest comeback ever: “What’s wrong withyourface?”
With a laugh, she threw herself into my arms. I caught her in a bear hug that lifted her off her feet.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” she squealed.
When I set her down again, she drew away and a shadow passed across her eyes. But the next instant, it vanished.
She shot out a fist and sucker-punched me right in the gut. “Took you long enough.”
The sting of her words hurt much worse than the dig of her knuckles. I deserved it, too, much worse than she was doling out, especially since I could tell my not coming to visit had affected her. And why hadn’t I? Because I was an asshole, that was why. I didn’t think I could handle seeing her like that again. It was...terrifying. But maybe it had been the same for her, too.
“Yeah, well.” I scrubbed a hand over my eyes as if I could rub out the memory. “I guess I was hoping you’d grow some muscles because you still hit like a girl.”
“You want to go?” She thumbed her nose, raised her fists way out, and churned them through the air like we were going to duke it out circa 1933.
I chuckled. “I’ll pass. So, are you going to invite me in or you just going to make me stand here all day?”
She dropped her arms, her smile spreading, and opened the door wider. “Come in, SamRam, and stay for a while.”
If the hallway was a vacuum of nothingness, her room was the exact opposite. It radiated life and color from the collage of paintings and inspirational quotes hanging on the wall to the messy desk by the open window with yarn piled on top of it. Everything, including my sister, was soaked in sunlight and warmth. And it was such a fucking relief.
Minus the yarn, this was how her old bedroom had looked—sloppy, but with a buzzing energy around it whenever she breathed life into it. That was what had been missing last time I was here. Life. It had been slipping away from her with every hit of heroin.
Now, Rose was back. She seemed to be, anyway.
She took my wrist and led me to the chair by the desk. “I have to show you something, but promise not to laugh.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh, but I couldn’t hide my grin.
