“Ah, I’m just going to use the restroom.” I stand and place my napkin on the table.
“I’ll show you where it is.” Sammie goes to follow me.
“Nope, you stay. Just give me directions,” I tell him.
“Down the hall, take your first left, third door,” he says.
“Right. Be back,” I reply and make a quick escape from that room.
I take my time walking to the bathroom, finding it after opening three other doors that were not in the hallway I was supposed to turn down. I twist the tap on and let the cold water wash over my hands.
“Shit, how long can I stay in here before he comes looking for me?”
The last thing I want to do is walk back into that dining room after his parents have found out that their daughter is possibly terminal. I might not have kids, but I’m pretty sure no parent wants to hear that news.
Just as I open the door, deciding it’s been long enough, Imogen storms past me.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask her, looking up and down the hallway. No one is behind her.
“I’d be better if my brother didn’t have such a big fucking mouth,” she huffs before storming off.
I follow her. Because, well, one: it’s not fair of her to put this on Sammie. And two: I can’t just ignore how upset she is.
“You don’t need to follow me,” Imogen says over a shoulder as she walks into her room.
I look around. There are floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. Huh, who would have thought crime families had libraries?
“Sorry… I just wanted to check on you. You know he’s just worried.”
“I know, but this is my decision. Not theirs.”
“I don’t agree with you. First, it’s your family who will be the ones left behind to have to deal with the loss. Second, it’s your family who will be wonderingwhat ifevery day for the rest of their lives. During celebrations, birthdays, Christmas… it will be your family who will be thinking about you, wishing that they could get you back even just for an hour. So, no, it’s not you who’s affected by you dying. It’s the people you leave behind,” I tell Imogen in one, long, exasperated breath.
“Sammie will be fine. He has you now.” She shrugs.
I shake my head. “I’m not enough. Trust me, I know. And no one could replace you. I haven’t known your brother that long, but I can see how much he loves you, Imogen. And if you think he’s going to be fine with you dying, then you’re delusional. You owe it to your family to fight. You owe it to yourself to fight for as long as you possibly can.” I turn and walk out of the room.
Sammie’s mother is in the hallway. Her eyes are watery with unshed tears.
“Sammie J is in the living room. Just follow this hallway back out, then turn right at the end.” She gives me a sad smile.
I nod my head. I have no idea what to say to her right now.
As I go to step past her, she grabs my arm. “Poppy, thank you. For what you said to her. Thank you for being here forSammie. This… this isn’t going to be an easy time for us, but I’m really glad you’re here.”
“I’m really sorry this is happening. It’s not fair. She’s so young and I just… I’m sorry…”
Mrs. Russo’s phone lights up in her hand. “Sorry. I have to take this,” she says, turning away from me. “E, I need a job, a messy one. Now.”
I don’t know who she’s talking to or why she needs a job, but that’s also not my business. I head back the way I came and look for Sammie. I find him sitting on a sofa, his head in his hands. He’s alone. The look on his face is one of devastation, and it breaks my heart.
“Hey.” I walk farther into the room and drop down next to him. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him against me. “I’m sorry.”
Sammie’s arms circle my waist. He picks me up, twisting around so that I’m straddling him. “I’m sorry dinner ended the way it did.”
“It’s not your fault,” I tell him. “I can go home. It’s okay. I know you probably just need to be with your family now.”
“I don’t want you to go anywhere.” Sammie holds on to me tighter.
