Page 89 of The Song We Lost

“I’m not leaving you,” I say.

“I didn’t ask you to,” she replies. “I asked you to keep being you. Be my sister, my best friend.”

I can’t agree to this. I can’t stop trying. I can’t give up on her.

So much is bubbling up inside of me. I open my mouth to say something, anything but a choked sound comes out. So I turn away from her, and I walk. Past the barns. Past the stacked bins of apples. The smell of crushed fruit thick in the air.

My brain won’t stop.

Luke refusing to talk to Noah.

Dave screening calls.

Specialists saying no.

Label saying now.

Baby kicking.

The divorce.

Palliative care.

Sadie is dying.

I start walking faster and the ground slopes slightly toward the far field. My boots sink into softer earth.

My chest feels tight, like something is pressing down from the inside. I break into a run without thinking. My lungs burn almost immediately. My body is exhausted but I push harder.

If I move fast enough maybe the thoughts can’t keep up.

The orchard rows blur beside me. The sky is painfully bright. I trip once and catch myself. And then the scream tears out of me.

It’s not controlled or pretty. It’s raw and animalistic and it rips my heart wide open. I drop to my knees in the middle of the field.

“Why?” I shout at nothing.

Why her?

Why now?

Why after everything we built…

I have given everything, isn’t that enough?

My hands dig into the dirt.

I see Luke’s face in my mind. The headlines. The silence.

I see Sadie smiling over baby name lists.

I see an ultrasound screen.

I see her lab results and the doctor's mouth moving when he told me we need to make her comfortable.

I can’t fix this.

I can’t control it.