Echoes Between Us

by Katie McGarry

  “I hear you, and I appreciate the honesty. Maybe that’s what you and I need, to say what’s on our minds instead of holding back.”

  To use my voice … the voice I’m finding. “Lucy and I need your help. I’ve got problems, and I’m learning how to deal with them. But the biggest issue at the moment is Mom’s in trouble and I don’t know how to help…”

  VERONICA

  One A.M.: Lightning-sharp pains through my skull. I toss and turn in my bed, hands on my head, crying into my pillow so Dad won’t hear.

  Two A.M.: My entire head pounds, a constant jackhammering. I do my best to stumble down the stairs as quietly as I can without waking Dad. Hard to do when the agony is so intense I can barely crawl.

  Two-thirty A.M.: I drag myself into the downstairs bathroom, shut the door, and vomit into the toilet.

  Three A.M.: I lay in the fetal position on the cold tile floor, the pain so overwhelming that I’m terrified that this time, I really am going to die.

  Die.

  My eyes burn and I shiver. This is not how I want to die. I don’t want my father to find me on the bathroom floor. I don’t want to be alone.

  Alone.

  Mom promised I’d never be alone. “Mom?” My voice is a crack, a broken whisper. “Mom, where are you?”

  The window seat. That’s where she was last. I try to push off the floor, but the heavy pain in my skull makes it impossible to stand. Crawl. My only option is to crawl. On my knees, on my stomach, I inch along the floor then thank God that I hadn’t closed the door all the way. I push it open and then claw my way across the room. Near the stairs, a fresh wave of torment starts and I collapse to the ground.

  I roll with the dry heave, and I’m so hot that sweat rolls down my face. Yet I’m also cold and clammy. When I open my eyes, I spot Mom’s bare feet near the window seat. “Mom?”

  Her feet move, and I sob with relief when she comes my way. Then I want to cry again when she’s not the emotionless porcelain doll, but my mom. Flushed cheeks, concerned eyes, radiating love. She crouches next to me. “You’re sick, peanut.”

  “I know.” A slicing pain registers at the back of my head and then strikes down my spine. I cry out with it and then do my best to muffle the sound. “Is it scary? Is it scary to die?”

  For the first time, Mom touches my face. Her hands are cold, but I welcome the caress. So much that hot tears well up in my eyes and fall down my cheeks.

  “You’re very sick, V. You need help.”

  “Is it scary?” I push. “I need to know if death is scary.”

  She pushes the hair away from my face. “I can’t let you do this to yourself. I can’t. I love you too much.” Mom turns her head toward the stairs. “Ulysses! Ulysses, I need you!”

  Dad. She’s calling Dad. “I don’t want him upset.” I double over as the pain seems to come from everywhere at once. “I love him, and I don’t want him to hurt.”

  “This is what you don’t understand about love, V.” Mom touches my cheek again. “He loves you and you can’t stop him from loving you. You don’t get to decide when he hurts and when he doesn’t hurt. All you get to do when someone loves you is either push them away or accept the love they are willing to give. If you push them away, you’re knowingly hurting them. If you let them love you, there will still be hurt, but at least then you’ll both have moments of happiness.”

  Mom turns her head again towards the stairs. “Ulysses! Come down here, now!”

  I sob, the tears flow down my face and drip onto the floor. “He can’t hear you. He can’t hear me. Please tell me this is not how I’m going to die.”

  “Ulysses!” Mom shouts so loud I flinch.

  “V!” Dad’s feet pound against the stairs. “V! Where are yo—” Dad goes stark white then bolts for me and falls to his knees. “What’s happened, V?”

  “It hurts.” The world has a funny feeling to it as I convulse with a dry heave.

  “Your head?” Dad asks. “Is it your head?”

  “She’s dying, Ulysses!” Mom screams next to him, right in his ear. “Save her! You save our baby!” She flickers, and then yells again, “You save her! You promised me you’d save her!”

  “I’m scared, Mom. Please don’t leave me! Please!”

  Mom grabs my hand, and I grab it back. “I’m here, peanut. I’m not leaving.”

  “Tell me it’s not scary to die, Mom! Please tell me it’s not scary to die!”

  Dad grabs my face and forces me to look at him. “Who are you talking to, V? Tell me who you’re talking to.”

  My throat swells and I shake my head, not wanting to answer, but then I think of Sawyer. I think of lies. I think of pain and I think of how I don’t understand why Mom won’t answer if death is painful, if death is scary. “I don’t want to die. I’m scared, Daddy. I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

  Dad leaves me and I writhe as sharp pains hit my skull again. Hands again on my face, warm ones, not cold. Dad’s deep voice, “I need an ambulance.”

  He gives his name, our address, all while wiping tears from my face, shushing me. “It’s okay, V. It’s okay.”

  It’s not okay. Not at all. “I’m scared, I’m scared, I’m scared.” Mom flickers again and that causes my heart to break in two. “No! You can’t go! You can’t go, Mom! I’m scared!”

  “Who do you see?” Dad grabs my face again. His cell no longer to his ear. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Tell him,” Mom’s voice is weak. “Tell him.”

  “Then you’ll leave!” I cry.

  Mom crouches in front of me, kisses my forehead and whispers, “I was never here. I’ve only been in your mind.”

  Then she’s gone and I can’t breathe. The pain through my entire body is too much for me to bear. I thrash, my body whipping in ways I can’t control, and the sound I make is inhuman.

  “V!” Dad shouts. Then I’m in his arms, and he’s holding me tight. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. Don’t you die on me! Don’t you dare die on me!”

  I grab on to the front of his shirt as the convulsions end. Darkness tunnels my vision and my mind has a fuzzy haze. “Don’t let me go, Daddy. Please don’t let me go.”

  “I won’t, baby.” His voice breaks as I struggle to stay awake. “I swear to God, I won’t.”

  * * *

  My mind is aware before my body. The first thought—there’s no pain. None. In fact, it’s a strange feeling, a floating feeling, like I’m not connected to anything at all.

  My heart skips a beat and my chest constricts. Oh, God, I died.

  Sawyer

  Dad

  Nazareth

  Jesse

  Scarlett

  Leo

  Oh, God, I didn’t do any of it right.

  “V?” Dad says, and there’s pressure on my hand like someone is holding it.

  My chest. My heart. The pressure on my hand. I felt it all. I’m not dead. Not yet. I swallow and turn my head. It takes a lot of effort to open my eyes and when I do everything is blurry. Blinking doesn’t help. Just makes Dad a blob of a blur and I’m unable to make out anything else.

  “Dad?” For as much effort as that took, I should have been a lot louder.

  “I’m here, peanut.”

  “I can’t see right.” Panic sets in. “It’s too blurry. I can’t make anything out.”

  I can hear footsteps farther away, the squeak of a chair next to me and the pressure of Dad’s hold on my hand tightening. “We’ll figure it out. It’s okay, baby. I promise it will be okay.”

  My mind runs at a million miles an hour, and I grab his hand back to make sure he won’t go away. “The tumor’s growing. I see Mom and I know I shouldn’t see Mom. I don’t want to die. I thought I did, but I don’t. I don’t want to die. Please help me not die.”

  “Shh,” he says, and my hair is pushed away from my face. “We don’t know if the tumor has grown yet.”

  “I’ve known. I’ve hidden it, it’s grown. I should have told you. I’m s
orry. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. We’re in the ER. We think you had a seizure. We’re waiting on the nurses to take you to the MRI scan. We’ll know more then.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again, and tears burn my eyes. I lied to him. I disappointed him. I’ve lied to myself. “I’m scared.” I’ve been scared, and I’ve been trying to tell myself that I’m not.

  “I know, peanut.” His voice breaks, and he clears it. A hand on my face and my tears are brushed away. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  My eyes close again, against my will, and my mind starts to drift. But then I snap my eyes back open. “Tell Sawyer I told you.”

  “I will.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I will. I called Jesse. He and Scarlett are in the waiting room. They’re texting Sawyer and Leo with updates. Nazareth has been here in the room with me. He just left to get the nurse to tell them about your sight, but he’ll be back. Go back to sleep, V,” Dad says in a soft voice. “You’ve got a big fight in front of you, and you’re going to need your strength.”

  VERONICA

  Living.

  I am alive.

  But my brain …

  isn’t quite working right.

  It happened fast.

  Maybe life happened slow.

  My memories don’t work so good.

  Not even when life is happening in the moment

  I still can’t remember.

  “When’s the surgery?” I ask.

  “You already had the surgery,” Jesse says next to me. He’s in the chair next to my bed. His legs are stretched out, his baseball cap covers his red hair. He was watching TV, but now he glances over at me. The hospital room is dark except for the dim light over my bed. On the other side of the room, my dad is asleep on a plastic couch.

  “When?” I ask.

  “A few days ago.”

  My forehead furrows. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “We did.”

  I shake my head and stop as it feels weird. I go to touch, but Jesse reaches out and gently puts my hand down. There’s an IV in my arm, and I don’t remember that, either. “I only remember the ER.”

  “That happened two weeks ago.”

  I blink. “I don’t remember.”

  “I know, and it’s okay.”

  It seems like I should feel emotion, but I don’t. With how dark it is outside and how quiet it is in the hospital, it seems like I should be asleep, but I feel wide awake. A twinkling light catches my attention, and there’s a moment of cloudy awe in my hazy brain.

  There are Christmas lights strung across the room. On the dresser across from the bed is a tiny prelit Christmas tree and a menorah along with wrapped presents. The menorah means Nazareth has been here. He’s Jewish, and I celebrate the holiday with his family.

  “Is it December?”

  “No. I wish I could take credit for it, but Sawyer and his friends did this for you. I have to admit, it’s brilliant. Nazareth brought the menorah in, and he’s been a show-off, bringing a present in every day.” Jesse tilts his head toward Nazareth who sits in the chair next to him. There are two chairs next to my bed, and it’s odd how I didn’t notice that before.

  “Hanukkah is better,” Nazareth says, “More days of presents.”

  It’s a memory of a joke between us, and I want to smile as I try to remember it, but it bothers me that I can’t remember the joke nor do I remember how to smile. “Does Sawyer know I had surgery?”

  “Yes, he comes every day around five,” Jesse says. “He stays until ten. You tell him he smells like a pool. Sawyer would stay longer if he could, probably all night, but his dad is strict on curfew. Plus Sawyer wants to be there at night for his sister. He brought you flowers today.”

  I frown as I look at the red roses on the table next to me. I don’t think Sawyer lives with his mom. He said something about living with his dad, but all that information is right there behind a glass wall in my brain and I can’t quite grasp it. “That’s a long drive for him.”

  “It’s a long drive for me. We’re in Louisville. Scarlett comes on the weekends. She’s the one who braids your hair and you tell her not to let us touch your hair again. I’ll admit, when I did your hair, it was scary.”

  I don’t understand at all. “Then why are you here if this is Louisville?”

  “Because you’re our best friend,” Nazareth says.

  I glance between them as I’m starting to feel small. “Did I know about the surgery?”

  Nazareth nods. “We tell you. You forget. We’ve been betting on which questions you’ll re-ask the most.”

  “You’re a night owl,” Jesse says. “Your dad needs to be awake during the day to talk to doctors so we volunteered for the night shift. Your dad won’t leave this room, but he does manage to sleep while we talk. To be honest with you, I’m glad we got the night shift. You’re more fun then.”

  “You sleep too damn much during the day,” Nazareth agrees.

  I’m curious which question I ask the most, but then decide it’s not important. “Am I broken?”

  “No,” says a new voice and I watch as Leo walks into the room. He closes the door behind him, hands Nazareth a water then Jesse a Sprite. “You’ve never been broken.”

  It’s Leo. Is that possible? “I’m dreaming.”

  “You’re not,” Leo says. “I can’t be here as much as everyone else, but I come when I can.”

  “Are we friends again?”

  Leo glances at Nazareth and Jesse, then back at me. “It hurts every time she asks,” he mumbles. At least it’s what I think he mumbles.

  “I know,” Jesse says to him. “But at least she’s giving you the same answer every time.”

  “True.” Then Leo stands at the end of the bed. “I want to be friends again. You’ve always been my best friend. But it’s up to you, V. I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

  He has always been one of my best friends, too. “I want to be friends again, but I still have a tumor.” Wasn’t that the problem?

  “They took out as much as they could during the surgery,” Leo says. “Your dad says they feel positive that the chemo and radiation will get everything else. But even if it’s still there, I still want to be your friend.”

  That sounds like a good thing. I think. A ghost of a memory worries my forehead. “I think I was pushing people away. Is that what I did? Is that why we stopped being friends?”

  “It wasn’t just you.” Leo drops his head, and then when he lifts it, he seems overwhelmed, yet happy, and my brain doesn’t understand. “But it’s okay. I’m sorry I messed up. It won’t happen again.”

  Confused, I look over at Jesse. “This is real?”

  “Yes.”

  I study Leo. “You’re okay that we’re friends again? Because I’m dating Sawyer, so it’s just friends.” An image of Sawyer leaning into me, the sweet pressure of his lips on mine and then him showing me red flowers pushes through. Did that happen today? “I’m in love with him.”

  Leo gives me a crooked grin. “It’s good, V. He and I had dinner together last night.”

  Now that is weird. I look back at Jesse again. “Are you sure this is real?”

  “It’s real, and you’re not broken.” Jesse points at his head. “The confusion and memory losses are from swelling in the brain. The doctor says it’s normal, and you’ll get better.”

  I cock an eyebrow and the action feels weird against my head. “So I’m normal now.”

  Nazareth, Jesse and Leo laugh. Harder than they should, as if it’s the funniest, most joyous thing they’ve ever heard. They calm down, then share a glance, not one of tension, but as if relieved.

  “Naw, V.” Nazareth winks at me. “You’ll never be normal.”

  I think that’s good, but then I don’t remember why that’s good and then I don’t remember why I should be happy. I have a brain tumor.

  I glance over at Jesse, and I’m
surprised to see him sitting there. “When’s the surgery?”

  VERONICA

  She’s dead.

  I wake with a start and my hands shake.

  Mom, I was dreaming of Mom. Her beautiful laugh, her beaming smile, the way she always made me feel better on my worst days. I glance around the room and she’s not here. If she was really a ghost, she’d be here. Period. Which means she wasn’t real. She was never real.

  And she’s gone.

  I try to sit up, but the IV in my arm yanks. Pain, and I flinch.

  “Are you okay?” Dad jumps from his spot next to me in the chair. His finger on the red emergency button next to the hospital bed.

  Tears burn my eyes, my chest aches and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I place a hand over my heart as it hurts. Hurts so bad. Pins and needles, it’s ripping apart.

  Dad presses the button over and over again as he watches me. “Tell me what hurts. Is it your chest? Can you breathe?” He pushes and keeps pushing and the sliding glass door of my ICU room opens so quickly that it startles me.

  Two nurses walk in, one immediately taking her stethoscope from around her neck. “What’s going on, V? Are you in pain?”

  “Yes.” I can barely make out the words, choking with the lack of air.

  “Where does it hurt? Your head?”

  “My…” I can’t suck in air. “My chest.”

  “Her chest?” Dad’s worry causes my heart to jump. “Is it a clot?”

  Calm and emotionless, the nurse pushes another red button on the wall. One nurse checks my vitals, my blood pressure cuff tightening on my arm as the first nurse leans me forward and listens to my lungs. “Can you take in a breath for me, V?”

  I shake my head as my body starts to tremble. I try to breathe in, but it’s hard to do. “It hurts.”

  “I know, honey, and we’re trying to figure out why.”

  Why? I know the why. “She’s dead. Mom is dead. She’s dead. She’s been dead and—” I choke on the next word as hot tears fog my vision. The two nurses glance at each other as Dad seems to sadly be filled with relief.