“Yeah there are. What do you think a mummy is? Or those animals they have in natural history museums? You know those are real animals. Grandma only told you they weren’t because she didn’t want you to start crying.”
Hoyt waved me off. He hated being reminded of how sensitive he’d been as a little boy. He used to cry when he stepped on an ant. He was still that way, I thought. He just knew how to cover it up better. That was what our family did best: cover things up.
We bought some lilies at a flower stand, and Hoyt started walking over the paved path to the grave. I watched him, incapable of moving, and swallowed. When he noticed I wasn’t with him, he turned, his expression preoccupied.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I lied in a thin voice, faking a smile.
He walked back toward me, took my hand, and pulled me forward softly. We walked beneath trees whose branches cast shadows on the damp grass. Soon we were there. The bright spots of sunlight on the ground quivered when the wind shook the trees, and I could see bits of dust, pollen, and little insects hovering in the light. It was so pretty, we couldn’t help but stop and stare.
“Hello, Mom. Happy birthday,” Hoyt said, laying the flowers on the ground. Then we stood there in silence for a while, remembering her.
“You know when I was eight I decided to let my hair grow long because I was jealous of how Mom used to braid yours and Hayley’s?”
“Are you serious?” I said, grinning.
He nodded. “She would spend hours brushing your hair, sometimes until you fell asleep. And then she’d sing to you.”
“Yeah, I remember that.”
“She loved your curls. They were just like hers,” a voice behind me said. I turned and saw Hayley. She said hello and patted Hoyt onthe arm. “Sorry I didn’t get back to you. I wasn’t sure if I could come. If I could take it, you know. Especially not with Grandma here, too.”
“Don’t worry,” Hoyt I said, taking her hand. “I’m glad you’re here. Maybe we both need each other to get through it.”
All at once, I felt like an intruder between the two of them, as if I shouldn’t have burst in on that moment that had always belonged to just the two of them. They were twins, they’d been together since before they were born, they had a connection I could never compete with. They shared feelings, memories, losses. A lonely childhood where the only thing they had was each other.
And it was my fault.
I was sad. Furious. I looked at the grave. She shouldn’t be there. She should be up here, and I down there. Fate had made a mistake, letting me live and her die.
And even that was a step too far. I simply shouldn’t ever have existed.
“I’m sorry.” The words came out of me of their own free will, cutting me in two. “I’m so sorry.”
I started hyperventilating. For months now, I’d been undergoing a slow, painful torture, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t keep it in. I couldn’t go on pretending that nothing was happening when it was.
I cried, sobbed, was beyond all consolation. Furious with myself. Desperate. Brokenhearted.
“Harper, what’s going on?”
My sister tried to make me look at her, but I couldn’t, and shoved her aside.
“What is it?” Hoyt asked.
“It looks like an anxiety attack,” Hayley said. “Harper, honey, relax. Everything’s all right. We’re here for you.”
I kept shaking my head and walking backward.
“It’s not all right, nothing’s all right, it’s all my fault.” I flailed around with my arms, then wiped my nose. “It’s my fault.”
“What is?” Hoyt asked with fear in his voice.
“Everything. Mom’s death. Dad being alone. You having to grow up without her. She couldn’t even be at your wedding, Hayley. I know how much you would have wanted that.”
“But, honey,” she said, coming closer, “she was there for me. I do wish she could have come, but she was there in spirit. I know that. Why are you saying all this now, though?”
“Because there’s something you don’t know.”
