The Secret Language of Sisters

by Luanne Rice

  He held up the board for me.

  But I do not want to let go.

  “I know,” he said, sounding sad. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

  Have to? I asked.

  “It makes things easier, my darling. In the long run.”

  My darling, Dr. Howarth had called me. Two hours ago, that would have made my heart leap. I had a crush on my doctor. He was used to seeing patients like me, girls with shaved heads and zigzag scars, who made grotesque body sounds, who couldn’t speak or move, who lay in one place until their skin festered with pressure sores.

  My doctor held my hand, but there was only one person on earth I had ever wanted to call me darling.

  Rilke wrote: We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.

  Letting each other go. I had learned that lesson with my father, less than a year ago. I hadn’t thought I would have to face it again so soon, or ever, with Newton. Lying in my hospital bed with Dr. Howarth holding my hand, I trembled inside, an earthquake in my chest, thinking of Newton, all the beach picnics we would miss, all the shooting stars we would never see.

  As long as there are shooting stars in the sky, I’ll be there.

  Except he wouldn’t.

  And neither would I.

  Tilly,” my mother called. Lying on my bed, doing algebra, I stayed very still so she wouldn’t come into my room. She was so mad at me, so disappointed in me. I couldn’t stand the expression in her eyes when she looked at me. But she knocked on the door to my room, walked in, and handed me a bag. “This is for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s what you’re going to wear to the dance tonight.”

  “I’m not going,” I said.

  “Tonight’s the full moon. It’s the Full Moon Dance. You’re going.”

  “Mom, forget it. I can’t show my face there.” And not only that, even worse, I was having seriously dangerous thoughts about dancing with Newton. I had to make sure that didn’t happen.

  She sat beside me. She pushed my book aside, saving my place with scrap paper. Crinkling open the bag, she pulled out the cream-colored slip dress TEN had picked out for me at Looking East.

  “Nona called to tell me she had had the store hold it, and I stopped to pick it up for you.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that. We don’t have the money, and I am not going to the dance.”

  “Honey, this has been a nightmare for all of us. And I know the articles and interviews have been hard on you.”

  “So what?” I muttered. Ever since that first day with the news vans at school, it seemed like there had been a never-ending stream of news stories, blogs, Facebook posts. I stayed offline and away from the TV. “I don’t care. I deserve it.”

  My stomach ached. Mom started playing with my hair the way she used to when I was little, and the way Roo always did. I closed my eyes and felt the tingles on my scalp. The feeling brought back floods of good memories. I wanted to go back in time and have Dad be alive and Roo be in the next room. The windows were open, and I heard birds in the thicket, waves breaking on the beach.

  When I opened my eyes, I looked at my shelves of creatures and owl pellets, and the sight of them made me feel faint. I snuggled closer to my mother, wanting to be innocent again. Of everything.

  “Are you mad at me?” I asked after a while.

  “Oh, Tilly.”

  “I know how you must feel about me; you probably hate me,” I said. I paused for her to answer, but I was terrified that she’d say yes, she did hate me. When she didn’t speak, I talked faster, my words tripping over each other. “She was the good daughter, the smart one, the great one. And look what I did to her!”

  My mother stopped playing with my hair. She gazed out the window, toward the beach, as if seeing our family all together on the sand, back when we were whole and happy.

  “She did it to herself as much as you did,” she said. “You both made a big mistake. I wish I could take it away from both of you.”

  “You can’t.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “You gave those pictures to Mr. Gordon. And the reporters,” I said, unable to keep my voice from shaking.

  “I love you and Roo more than my own life, but keeping secrets isn’t going to help anybody. I’m sure it felt awful to have your friends find out about the texts, but I’m glad they did. And I’m glad it’s in the news. The truth might save someone’s else’s child.”

  I cringed. Maybe she was right, but didn’t she know how it made me feel, how the guilt was eating me up?

  “So get dressed.”

  “I really don’t want to, Mom.”

  “It’s a benefit to help your sister, honey. Hold your head high—you made a mistake, and you’re facing it. Picking yourself up and moving forward is the right thing. It’s what Roo’s doing, learning how to talk a new way. I’m proud of her. Make me proud of you, too, okay?”

  “By going to a dance?”

  “Yes. Exactly because it is so hard to show your face, and live your life at school, that’s just what you have to do. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  So my mother helped me fix my hair, pin it up in a French twist. We stood by the bathroom mirror, and she hugged me from behind. How many times had Roo stood at this very mirror, looked at her reflection? Why should I be getting ready for the Full Moon Dance and not her?

  I had tried; I really had. Now I saw myself in the mirror, all dressed up. My hair looked fancy, up like this. You could see that I actually had cheekbones—who knew? I felt weird thinking it, but I looked, well, pretty. And that made my thoughts jump to Newton. Would he notice me?

  My mom dropped me off at Town Beach, where a DJ had set up equipment under a gazebo decorated with tiny white lights. Janey Burke and Jeremy Stanton manned the science club donation table. The photography club had supplied refreshments, and Isabel presided over the food table. Her mother had made a huge batch of tamales; the steam rising from the corn-husk wrappers smelled good.

  The night was warm, almost like summer. A light breeze blew off the Sound, pressing my cream-and-black silk lace dress against my body. Em and Nona stood by the science club booth, and I walked straight over. Nona hadn’t gotten the leather jacket after all. The black dress made her look so delicate, not half as tough as she would have liked, as if she’d stepped straight out of a vintage photo. Emily looked ethereal in a shimmering white halter dress.

  “Hey,” Nona said to me. “You look great.”

  “You told my mom about the dress,” I said.

  “She didn’t mean to upset …” Emily began, sounding nervous.

  But I gave them both a big hug, pulling them close. “Thanks, Nona. Both of you.”

  “We never know how you’re going to react these days,” Nona said. “But even if you got mad, it was worth it to get you here.”

  “You had to come,” Em said. Her gaze slid to the kids behind the science booth, especially Jeremy, her crush. Like most of the boys, he had done his best with the dress code, beach formal: He wore his father’s tuxedo jacket, a white shirt, no tie, and board shorts.

  Then I spotted Newton. He and Roo were copresidents of the science club; he sat in the back of the booth. He hadn’t bothered to get dressed up at all. He wore the same blue shirt I could swear he’d been wearing at school yesterday, jeans, and topsiders. I waved, but he didn’t see me. He faced away from the dance floor, looking out at Long Island Sound.

  He wasn’t going to dance. He wouldn’t be asking me or anyone else. So I wouldn’t dance either.

  I found myself thinking of Roo.

  She would have been the most beautiful girl here, bubbling over with enthusiasm, helping Isabel at the food stand, dancing with Newton and everyone else, including me. She and I had started off dancing to “Baby Beluga” when we were tiny, and we’d danced together ever since. The sound track to The Little Mermaid, graduating quickly to music by our parent
s’ favorite, Bruce Springsteen, with Roo loving “Thunder Road” while I was more of a “Badlands” girl. At Christmas, we pretended we were snowflakes, twirling to music from The Nutcracker.

  “Hey,” Slater said, holding out his hand. “Will you dance with me?”

  I had been thinking so powerfully about my sister, I forgot to say no. Instead, I nodded.

  Slater wore a white jacket and black shirt, tie, and pants. I took his hand, and he led me to the dance floor. His arm around me felt sure and strong as we moved to a Katy Perry song. He didn’t know I was numb, only half-there. My eyes kept darting to Newton.

  “You look beautiful,” Slater said.

  “No, I don’t,” I said.

  “You’re not big on taking compliments, are you?”

  “I’m okay at it,” I said. “Sometimes.”

  He laughed, and we just danced. Out by the beach road, the fleet of media trucks had parked, wheels in the sand. Their lights were bright.

  “Looks as if they don’t want to miss the big event,” I said.

  “Don’t think about them,” Slater said. “This is for Roo. We’re all here for her, Tilly.”

  The music changed and a slow dance began to play. Kids drifted on and off the floor. Isabel waved us over, served us cups of lemonade. She looked beautiful in a copper-colored silk blouse and long black skirt, and ornately tooled silver disc earrings, and I felt the lemonade was meant as a peace offering.

  “Did you hear, someone from town has offered to match whatever science club raises for Roo?” she asked. “Mr. Gordon got a call on Friday.”

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. The donor wants to stay anonymous,” Isabel said.

  “I’m sure it will help,” Slater said. “Her treatment must be expensive. My mom’s costs a fortune.”

  “It is, but her hospital expenses seem to be covered,” I said, thinking of Dr. Howarth and his clinical trial.

  “Really, how?” Isabel asked.

  “Dr. Howarth has his ways,” I said.

  “Oh, he is wonderful,” Isabel said. “I met him last time I visited, and he was so supportive of Roo, and even of me. My photography.”

  “I hope he doesn’t hurt her,” I said.

  “How would he?” Isabel asked.

  “She thinks they’re really close. Friends. But he’s just being professional.”

  “Hey, she loves Newton. End of story. But if bonding with her doctor gets her through, it’s okay with me. He’s the best there is.”

  “Yes, we’re so lucky,” I said sarcastically.

  Isabel laughed and pulled me close. “Tilly, you are something else, you know that?”

  She kissed the top of my head, but I flinched away. I couldn’t help it; I wasn’t ready. I didn’t doubt that she loved Roo, but things had changed between us, and I wasn’t sure they’d ever go back to the way they were.

  A fast song came on and the DJ cranked it, and people got all excited. Isabel began to dance with Slater and, really not getting the hint, gestured for me to join in. As if I would.

  I backed a few steps away.

  “Come on, Tilly,” Slater said, holding out his hand.

  “Not my music,” I said.

  “Swim, I dare you!” someone yelled from down the beach, and I was glad for the distraction, because both Isabel and Slater turned to look.

  “Sharks come at night!” someone called back.

  “Skinny-dip!” Nona shouted.

  “You wouldn’t!” Em said.

  “Yeah, I would; you wouldn’t,” Jeremy said.

  “The moon hasn’t come up yet—let’s wait for it.”

  “I’ll moon you!”

  “Bite me!”

  “Sharks are gonna bite you.”

  Squeals and cheers, and a whole group of kids—ones I liked, mainly, with Marlene and her prissy crew standing back, lest their mascara run—tore down to the water’s edge where the gazebo lights didn’t reach and began peeling off their clothes to splash into the cold Sound in their underwear. Roo would love this, I thought. We both adored swimming at night, had grown up doing it the way other kids go skateboarding—edgy, slightly dangerous, but thrilling.

  “Shark,” Teddy Messina yelled.

  “Great white or tiger?” Janey Burke called.

  “You’re not being funny,” Emily called. “If you want me to come in, you’d better stop saying shark.”

  Nona whooped and tackled her from behind, and she and Jeremy threw her in and dove after her. Emily laughed, splashing them both, swimming away and making Jeremy follow.

  I saw Newton leave the science booth, as if he felt as apart from the fun as I did. He walked down to the tide line but instead of heading left, toward the pack of swimmers, he began to run, fast, in the opposite direction, toward the wilder nature-refuge end of the beach.

  My heart skipped; I had the sudden feeling he was going to do something desperate. I began to follow him.

  “Tilly!” Slater called after me.

  Isabel said something to him, but I didn’t hear, and I was glad they didn’t come after me. I kicked off my shoes and walked barefoot onto the sand. Newton was moving so fast, he was almost out of sight. I ran along the tide line, my feet hitting pebbles, sharp shells, and slippery trails of wet seaweed. The sand was hard and packed, so I picked up speed.

  The tide was rising, and the waves’ front edges splashed my legs and the hem of my dress. The farther I went, the more the music and gazebo lights faded in the distance. The moon still hadn’t risen; the beach was very dark.

  Growing up at Hubbard’s Point, five miles down the coastline, I rarely came to Town Beach, so the terrain was unfamiliar. I vaguely remembered that a bight ran south from the inland marshes down to the water’s edge, cutting a sharp, deep trench in the beach; it would widen with tonight’s incoming, spring tide—one of the highest of the year because of the full moon—but I was pretty sure it was another half mile ahead.

  I stubbed my toe on a rock, and yelped. Stopping to check the damage, I saw my big left toe bleeding like crazy. I had nothing to wrap around it, so I limped along on my heel, trying to keep my toe out of the sand. I felt really unsteady.

  Where was Newton? My nerves were jumping. Where had he gone? I already felt responsible for one tragedy, my sister, and I wasn’t sure I could live with another.

  I scanned the beach, the white sand a little brighter than the upland grasses and scrub oaks and pines that grew along the berm, but I didn’t see him. I could no longer make out the music playing back at the dance, but the thumping bass merged with the sound of surf. My foot was killing me, but I didn’t care—I started to run. And I decided I couldn’t take the chance of something happening to him, so I called out.

  “Newton!”

  No answer, so I picked up speed. What if he’d gone into the water, started swimming straight out; what if he needed help?

  “Newton?”

  Nothing, but then, “Tilly, watch out!”

  I felt the sand beneath my feet give way, and I slid downhill into rushing, cold water. I went under once, twice, grabbed a breath, went down again, falling straight into the bight. Then I was treading water, gasping for breath and trying to figure how to climb up the sandy bank that had given way. I had misjudged the distance, fallen into the tidal bight.

  Something splashed beside me and grazed my leg. I thought of my friends yelling shark and blindly struck out at the dark shape, gulping with panic. Strong arms held me, pushing me up to the surface so I could catch my breath and find my own strength. Treading water, I came face-to-face with Newton.

  Hair dripping, fully dressed, he half held me.

  “What were you doing?” he asked.

  “Chasing you! I was worried.”

  “Tilly,” he said, shaking his head, hitting me in the eye with his wet hair.

  “Hey,” I said, pushing him under.

  “Hey yourself,” he said, returning the favor.

  I gasped, and
suddenly we were having a wrestling match, teasing and dunking each other the way we had a thousand times, my left leg hooked around his right, so relieved he was okay, I accidentally swallowed a big mouthful of water. I coughed, and he pounded me on the back, and our bodies were pressed against each other, and my arms went around him. And we kissed.

  I’m not sure whether he kissed me or I kissed him, but his lips tasted salty and hot, and my body turned inside out, and I gripped his arms so hard I think I bruised him. His body blazed against mine in the rushing tide; we were lost in nature, grief, and the night. We rode the current just off the beach, and I could imagine letting the ocean take us all the way out.

  I pulled away from him. Looking east, I saw an orange glow on the horizon. The light seemed to float on the water, then spread across the waves, ripples of gold. It was the full moon rising out of the sea. It always looked gigantic upon rising, and Roo had explained to me why: It was known as the moon illusion and had to do with refraction and apparent distance. I could have asked Newton more details, he would know, but suddenly I’d been struck silent.

  We swam to shore. I crawled up on the sand, my hair dripping and my new dress ruined. He inched his way along, stood up and shook like a wet dog.

  “You lost your glasses,” I said.

  “They fell off when I tried to pull you out,” he said. “It’s not too deep in there. I’ll find them.”

  “I’ll help you look,” I said.

  He reached for my hand. We clasped fingers.

  We stood staring at each other. The moon had turned from gold to silver, and its path was so bright, I felt I could turn and run across the waves, escape from both Newton and what had just happened. But I didn’t want to.

  “Oh, Tilly,” he said.

  “I fell in. I wasn’t being careful,” I said.

  “I got so worried,” he said. His face was an inch away from mine. “I thought you could have drowned.”

  “I thought that about you.”

  Our lips brushed. His nose bumped mine. He was a foot taller, and had to bend down to rest his forehead against mine.

  My heart, my blood, every inch of my body was tingling. Our hands were still clasped. I realized I’d been wanting this to happen for weeks, since right after Roo’s accident, when we’d started getting close.