Wow. Emerson was on fire. “Geez,” I said. “You’ve spent way too much time with her this summer.”
“I have packed your bag, and I have packed the boys’ bags.” She paused. “I mean, obviously, Caroline will have what we are supposed to wear to the party sent out to the house, but your other stuff is packed. We need to leave the house at eight forty-five in the morning.”
I nodded, but I knew now was the time I could get Emerson to do something for me. I set my paintbrush down and rubbed my hands together. I reached out for Emerson’s hand. “Want to go for a walk with me? Get some fresh air?”
She shrugged, and I could tell she was suspicious. “Sure.”
As we made our way down the steps she said, “Actually, Sloane, I’m not feeling that great. Can we just go sit on the dock?”
It made my stomach churn. My little sister’s arm was wrapped around mine. I pulled up her sleeve and studied a bruise above her wrist. I shook my head. “Emerson,” I said breathlessly.
I unhooked the latch on the gate and we crossed the street. We both sat down at the end of the dock, our toes trailing in the water.
“Remember when we used to do this when we were kids?” I asked.
Emerson smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I remember. It was a huge deal when I was tall enough that my feet actually touched.”
“I know we’re grown up now,” I said, looking out across the water, past Starlite Island, out to where our stretch of water met the deep, dark ocean that sometimes felt so pristine and beautiful to me and other times so dark and looming. Today was a dark and looming time. “But you’re still my little sister, Em. You always will be. And I’m not going to stand by and let something bad happen to you.”
Emerson had canceled her last two doctor’s appointments, which was a classic Emerson move. If you don’t want to deal with it, avoid it.
Emerson turned.
“I’ll go to New York on one condition,” I said. “I will go if you go to that hematologist Caroline found while we’re there.”
She scrunched her nose.
“If I have to face my fear, you have to face yours too.”
Emerson rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she said.
“Grand,” I replied. I noticed she still looked nervous.
I knew how she felt because I felt nervous too. If you didn’t have the finality of a diagnosis, in her case or, in my case, a body, you could deny what was happening to you. “It will be OK,” I whispered. “Once they figure out what’s wrong with you, they can fix it.”
She shrugged and bit her lip. “Grammy dying and Adam being MIA has put everything into perspective,” she said. “I mean, my whole life.”
I leaned back, resting on my hands.
“Everything I’ve thought was important feels kind of stupid now.” She paused. “I mean, I might not be able to have kids. The treatments might not work.” She sighed, and I could see her chin quivering. She looked up at me, searching for an answer. “Sloane, I could die.”
I couldn’t even entertain that thought. “Em, no,” I said, sitting up, pulling her into me. I had been the fragile one these past few months. I had been the one who was crumbling and needed someone to give her strength. Now it was Emerson. “We don’t even know what’s wrong yet.” I squeezed her hand and whispered, “You’re going to be fine.”
I looked out over the water, at a shrimp trawler making its way back home. I didn’t want Emerson to see the fear on my face or the tears in my eyes. My sister might be really sick. My sister could die.
The fear of flying and going back to New York was nothing, absolutely nothing, compared to the fear of losing my sister. I thought of Adam and what he would do, and I made it my personal goal to get Emerson any and all treatment and help she needed. I thought of the Army, of its motto, of what Adam always said to me when I was feeling conflicted. I would continue to repeat it to myself over and over again as I faced my fears over those next few days.
Mission First, People Always.
“THIS IS A MOMENTto advance,” I said out loud the next morning, reaching my hand into my pocket to feel the corners of the paper with Adam’s words that he could never have expected would help me through this anguish. My other hand was holding AJ’s. “This is a moment,” I said, this time with more certainty in my voice, “to move forward with purpose, power, and most importantly, passion.”
I looked seriously at AJ, and he looked seriously back up at me. “Because action without passion is a waste of time, Mommy.”
I nodded again and took a deep breath. “Exactly.”
I would not be afraid. If I was afraid I certainly would not let my boys see. Fortunately, AJ was too young to be affected by how sweaty my palm was.
“I like that,” Mark said from behind me in line, holding his boarding pass anxiously, at the ready. That was how I felt about Mark. He was always at attention, like he was afraid he’d drop the ball and this dream of being with my sister would simply evaporate as if it never happened. “This is a moment to advance.”
