“She saved my son’s life.” A woman steps forward, sobbing as she holds onto her toddler. “He ran out into the road when I was trying to tie my daughter’s shoe. I only looked away for a second, and when I looked up, he was in the middle of the road.” She clutches her little boy tighter. “That woman pushed him out of the way and saved his life.” Her son cries, his knees and elbows scraped, but thanks to Layla, he is alive.
“Where are you taking her?” Manny asks the paramedics, who have now put Layla onto a gurney and are lifting her into an ambulance.
The paramedics give us a once-over. “Are you family?” he asks, and we nod. He tells us, and then we are both getting into Manny’s truck on our way to the hospital together. We walk into the emergency department and ask the woman at the front desk about Layla. She lets us know that she is being cared for now, and a doctor will come out and speak to us soon. We cannot see her because the staff is busy with her, so we find a couple of seats, plop into them, and wait.
We sit side by side in the waiting room. Nadia is only inches away, but it feels miles apart. I look at her, but she doesn’t acknowledge me. She stares ahead in an almost trance-like state. I don’t reach for her either, and somehow I feel that someone I envisioned a future with just hours ago, is nothing but a stranger to me now.
I recall the terrible things I told Layla. So many ugly things. Hurtful things. I even said she was selfish. Oh, God. I place my head in my hands, sorry for what I said. The actions of that woman fighting for her life were anything but. The cruel truth was that I was angry. I took my frustration out on her. Someone who was once my wife, Catalina’s mother. She might not have been the best wife and mother, but truth be told, I gave up on her a long time ago, too. And now, as I sit here in this waiting room, with her on the other side of this door, fighting for her life, I wonder if I could have been kinder to her or maybe helped her more. We don’t have to be the product of the person who raised us. We can be better. She just never had anyone who believed in her, myself included.That is something I will have to live with every day.
A man in scrubs comes our way, and I can tell from the expression in his tired eyes that things are rough in there. I brace myself for the words he has to say and steel my expression to the one I wore mere months ago. Nadia rises from the chair, tears in her eyes, and I don’t know what she is thinking. Is she sad for her sister? Does she still think of Layla as the villain in her story?
“Hello,” he says, clearing his throat, extending his hand to us. “I’m Dr. Fitzpatrick.”
“I’m Manny Torres.” I take his hand firmly.
“Oh, Mr. Torres.” He raises his brow. “Yes, your wife is in critical condition. She is being prepped for surgery now. She had a lot of bleeding, and we had to resuscitate her and replace the blood she lost at the accident.” I stand there and listen, and not once do I correct him when he calls her my wife. I look over to Nadia, and her face is blank as well. She didn’t even flinch. “Because she has a rare blood type, we are calling the local blood banks to have some sent over.”
Nadia’s head shoots up. “What is her blood type?” I hear her ask, but I look at her face, watching as her eyes are focused on the doctor. He looks over at her. He looks at me and I nod, letting him know he can answer her question.
“B negative,” he says. Nadia shuts her eyes. When she opens them, she looks at the doctor, extending her hand to him.
“Hi, sorry,” she says. “I’m Nadia Kennedy, Layla’s sister, and I can donate blood if you need it.”
The doctor’s eyes widen. “That’s great news. Let’s take you to the lab and fast-track the process.” He starts walking briskly, gesturing for us to follow. “Have you been to this hospital before? he questions, swiping his badge to unlock doors as we move through the hallways. His questions come quickly, one after another, as we keep up with his fast pace.
“Yes,” she replies. “I have been here multiple times for different visits because I grew up here. My mom was from here, actually. They should be able to access my record and see my blood type on file, too.”
After donating blood, we sit in the lab area awaiting more newson Layla. I watch her sip juice and nibble on a snack. She remains silent, and I don’t want to bring up anything for fear of saying the wrong thing and her leaving. Even in silence, I’d rather have her here with me than not at all. After Nadia says she feels okay to leave, we walk to another waiting area, located on the second floor, where the surgical services and operating rooms are situated.
I’m nodding off when a door opens and a man with a blue hat and matching scrubs comes out to greet us. Another woman with a clipboard follows, and by the look on their faces, I know that whatever they are here to tell us isn’t good. I hear a few words in between sentences. “We tried everything we could. We couldn’t save her. I’m so sorry for your loss.” They leave us there, and I can’t process anything other than the fact that Catalina’s mother is dead. What am I going to tell my little girl? I stand up, and before I can talk to her, a familiar voice shouts, “Nadia!” as a woman comes running down the hall.
“Savannah!” Nadia cries out, meeting her friend mid-stride. They hug each other closely, and she leads her away, before sparing me a glance. She looks at me sadly, and I stand there, unable to move. I want to scream. To run after her and tell her she can’t go. I hear ma’s words, “Do everything you can to keep her,” but I can’t. How can I after all that’s happened? So I let Savannah take her away, knowing that a piece of my heart goes with her and knowing that Nadia may be right. Maybe love just isn’t enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Savannah has stayed with me at the lake house, helping me close everything up. I finally listened to the voice message from Officer Stanley, letting me know that Layla had been discharged from rehab. He asked me to call him, so here I am, returning his phone call a little late. He picks up on the second ring, announcing his name just as he did every time I called requesting an update about the case, except now it’s me giving him the update.
If only I had wanted to know the truth, to hear everything he had to say about Layla, even to know her name, but I refused to hear anything that had to do with my dad’s other daughter. So many things could have been different if I had just listened that day with Savannah in his office at the police station.
“I’m so sorry, Nadia. What happened to your parentswas an accident. As much as I disapprove of how she went about trying to talk to your father and get his attention, I wish things had been different.” He sighs. “Maybe there would have been a different outcome or maybe not, but she did try to reach out, and the way that she saved that little boy,” he pauses, choosing his following words, “that wasn’t such a selfish thing to do.”
I slump in my chair by the window overlooking the lake. “Thank you, Officer Stanley?—”
He interrupts. “Please, call me Mitch. Anytime you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call Nadia. You take care of yourself.” With that, I disconnect the call, feeling more lost than ever. I have so many unanswered questions, and I wish I could have more closure, but maybe I’ll never know, and that’s okay, too.
I didn’t want to attend the funeral and have to witness Catalina and Manny with their family, and not be able to be with them. After knowing that she is my sister, it just didn’t sit right with me. I thought I’d be more of a distraction than a help, especially with Layla’s mother going. I don’t know what I would do if I saw that woman. I don’t want to cause any problems, so I stand there with Savannah, under a tree, paying my respects to a sister I never knew existed until recently. I wonder what it would have been like to have a sibling. She was an only child, too. I guess we will never know.
I see Manny holding Catalina as they leave the gravesite. She rests her head on Manny’s shoulder as tears stain her cheeks. She carries her rabbit tightly in her grip as its floppy ears bounce off Manny’s shoulder. They drive away, and I can’t help but want to run after them. I felt the same way the day they drove off from the fireworks at the lake. Except this time it is so different. I knew that I would see them again, that there would be a tomorrow, yet my heart still ached. Now, my heart feels like it’s ripped in two, because I know there will not be another morning, caring for Catalina and wishing Manny a good day at work. I won’t see them again, and they aren’t coming back.
I walk over to Layla’s grave. As I stand there, over the casket that has been lowered into the ground, I turn back to see Savannah waiting for me. She lifts her chin, urging me to do what I camehere to do, and that is to get the closure I need with my sister. I take the silver-looking symbol from my pocket, attached to a leather cord. I flip the Celtic Sister Knot Heart over in my hand, feeling the cool metal on my skin. I kneel on one knee, peering into the casket that houses my sister’s eternal resting place.
“Layla,” I begin, then pause to gather the strength to say the rest. “I know that I never had the chance to really know you. I wish I had more time because I think we could have gotten along under different circumstances. I’m sorry for how my father treated you. I didn’t know.” I wipe away my tears, thinking about everything she went through and how blind I’d been to the truth. “I’m sorry that I fell in love with Manny, that he’d been the one to help me heal. Maybe we healed each other and were exactly what the other needed. What I’m not sorry for is that I fell in love with your daughter.” The tears fall faster now, as I rush to finish before I lose my nerve, so I can get out of this cemetery and this town that will never be the same for me anymore. “I promise to always be there for her and ensure she has a good role model. Not being with Manny may be hard, but I will be there for my niece.” I flip the medallion onto the casket, which lands with athudonto the wooden casket below.
“I want you to keep this, to remember that you are not alone, that even in death our bond as sisters is still intact, and rest in knowing that you are missed and loved. I have a lot of regrets, Layla, but meeting you for just a brief time will never be one ofthem.” I stand, brushing the dirt from my knee, and walk away from the gravesite toward my friend, who isn’t bound to me by blood, but by love and is the only sister I have ever known.
I fightthe urge to leave town without driving by Manny’s house or stopping to say goodbye. What will that do but cause more heartache? He never came to my house, and I can’t blame him. I pushed him away, and we both need time to grieve in our own ways. He had to bury his ex-wife and the mother of his child. Catalina needs him more than I do. I take another trip around the house, pausing on the mantel where a new picture of Manny, Catalina, and me rests. Our faces smiling, not knowing the devastation that would come so soon. I pick it up and place it in my bag. As I lock up the rest of the lake house and load the last of my belongings, I stand, looking at the place in front of me that brought me so much joy growing up and so much pain these past months. This place will forever remind me of the happy times with my parents and the happiness, although brief, that I found with Manny and Catalina. I lower the window down in the car, letting the wind whip my hair around. Keane’s “Somewhere Only We Go” plays and I sing along with the chorus, letting myself feel the bittersweet lyrics of a love that ended before it began.
As I drive through Main Street, I look at Planet Pancakes and see Odette in the window, smiling at a customer. It makes me think of Manny and Catalina, as does the ice cream place, and the town fields where she ran those bases, her hair flowing behind as she scored a run. I smile at the memory, taking it with me, hoping that I may see them again soon. I need to stay focused and finish my degree, and then maybe there will be another chance for me to be happy.
