I don’t know who she is. But I know I want to be here. With you. That’s all that matters to me right now.
Simple. Direct. True.
And completely missing the point.
“You don’t understand.”
He wrote: Then help me understand. What’s really wrong? Not just Maeve.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. The words stuck in my throat like broken glass.
Xavier touched my hand. Gentle. Questioning.
His eyes held mine in the dim light. Patient. Waiting.
Tell me. Please.
I tried to deflect. Started to make another excuse about being tired, about needing space to process the seizure, about...
The notepad pressed against my knee. One word.
Please.
The last wall cracked.
“I’m terrified of failing you.” The words came out raw. Broken. “I failed someone before. My sister. Emma.”
Xavier went very still.
“I never told you the whole story. About why I can’t let people wait. Why I have to show up now, immediately, every single time.” I pressed my palms against my eyes. “Emma was my younger sister. Four years younger. Our mom died when I was sixteen. Cancer. Our dad... he shut down afterward. Emotionally checked out. So I raised Emma. Became the person she turned to for everything.”
The notepad rustled. Xavier wrote: Tell me.
So I did.
I told him about nursing school. About working double shifts at the hospital to pay off student loans. About Emma calling me that Friday night, four years ago.
“She said she wasn’t doing well. Asked if we could meet. I told her I was working doubles all weekend, short-staffed. Asked if it could wait until Monday.” My voice cracked. “She said it could. But she sounded... I should have known. Should have heard it in her voice.”
Xavier’s hand found mine. Squeezed.
“She called six times that weekend. Saturday, Sunday. I answered some of them. Told her to hold on. Just until Monday. Promised we’d talk all night Monday. She just had to wait.” The words tasted like ash. “Her last text came Sunday at eleven PM. ‘I really need you, Clare. Please.’ I was asleep. Didn’t see it until morning.”
I couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t face the judgment I knew would be there.
“Emma died by suicide Sunday night. Around eleven-thirty. Overdose of pills she’d been stockpiling. Left a note.” I recited the words I’d memorized, carved into my brain like a scar.
I tried to hold on. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. Tell Clare I love her and it’s not her fault. But I needed her and I couldn’t wait anymore.
Silence filled the room. Heavy. Suffocating.
“I told her she’d be okay. Promised her tomorrow. She didn’t make it to tomorrow.” My hands shook. “I trusted my judgment. Thought I knew how bad it was. Thought I had time. I was wrong. She died waiting for me.”
The notepad pressed against my knee again. Xavier’s handwriting was fierce, urgent.
You didn’t kill her.
“I made her wait when she couldn’t wait. That’s the same thing.”
