“Got it,” I tell her. I look around. “Let me get some shots of the city.”
“Maybe we should do a murder scene,” Fiona is saying. “Robby could be my lover who murders me in a fit of jealousy.”
“Uh-huh.” I pan the camera across the horizon, then look down. It’s a long fall. I scoot forward. There’s a sound in the distance that I can’t quite make out. It tickles my mind, like I should know what it means, if I can just get closer. I lean forward, leaning, leaning…
“Heather!” Fiona shouts, and I’m pulled backward, my camera spiraling from my hands. I fall the five feet to the hard stone ground.
“Ow. What the hell?” I’m flat on my back, staring into the clear blue sky.
Fiona’s face appears above me. “You looked like you were about to fall.”
“I was just getting a shot.” I pull myself up. “I dropped my camera,” I say, panicking. “We have to go get it.” There are paths that crisscross on the land beneath the castle, through parks and homes and cemeteries.
“Even if we could find it, it’s smashed into a gazillion pieces,” she tells me, peering down.
I let out a frustrated gasp. “There goes my summer film project.” At least it was my cheap camera. Still, I didn’t want to lose it.
“Well, while we’ve been up here, random tourists have been snapping photos of me,” Fiona says. “Let’s set up on the esplanade with the castle in the background and charge a pound a shot. You’ll be able to afford a new camera in no time.”
“Fiona, you’re brilliant,” I tell her, feeling kind of shaky from my near fall. What was I thinking?
Fiona’s a big hit, but I don’t make nearly enough money for a new camera. Instead, Fiona and I blow it on shopping on Princes Street.
When I get back to my aunt’s flat, without Fiona or shopping to distract me, I can’t stop thinking about what happened back at the castle. I was just trying to hear that sound, but for a brief moment I forgot about everything—including my own safety. I swallow. It’s over now, and I’m safe. But it’s already consumed me, the awful need. There’s no ignoring it this time, no pushing down the compulsion. There’s only one way to stop these horrible feelings.
I go straight to my room and start tugging open the drawers to the sewing desk, searching until I find a pair of small silver scissors. They’re sharp to the touch. They’re perfect.
I pull up my sleeve, and looking in the mirror, I begin to carve, slowly and painstakingly tracing the spiral pattern. Immediately I feel better.
“Heather! Are you back?” my aunt yells from the hallway, causing me to jerk my hand and slash my skin, marring the mark. Blood pours down my arm, staining my shirt. I stare at the ruined symbol for a moment, anxiety flooding my body and making me tremble. I wrecked it.
“Heather!” Aunt Abbie calls again.
I tug off my shirt and ball it against my arm, looking for the bandages I bought at the airport in Chicago. Quickly I slap one on the cut and put on a fresh shirt.
“Here!” I call, throwing open the door. My aunt stands in the hall looking tired, her hair disheveled. “How was your nap?” I ask, trying not to sound as panicky as I feel.
“Fitful…I’m finding it hard to sleep lately.” When she turns away from me I rub my sore arm, willing myself to calm down.
“I just went for a walk.” I tell her about the art installation, babbling on.
She laughs. “Social commentary with teddy bears.”
The sound of her laughter grounds me, makes me feel more like myself. “Giant teddy bears,” I correct her.
“That I’ll have to see.”
If only my camera weren’t smashed into a million pieces. Well, she doesn’t have to know about that. “And I have these.” I pull out the flyers I shoved into my pocket. “If you want to check out a show later.”
“Oh, this could be fun…improv comedy. Should we go?”
“Sure,” I answer quickly, though my aunt looks as if she doesn’t have enough energy to make it down the stairs. “Sounds good.”
“Okay, love. Let me see if I can rally. I’m going to put the kettle on. Want a cup of tea?” My aunt and my dad share the belief that a cup of tea solves any problem. Gram taught them that. “Robby’s mom sent it over….It’s one of her herbal concoctions.”
“Sounds great. I’ll be right there.” I turn to go back into my room to clean up a bit. No sooner have I closed the door than I hear a crash.
Aunt Abbie is sprawled on the kitchen floor in a pool of murky brown water, still clutching the kettle. “Aunt Abbie!” She doesn’t respond. I grab my phone and dial 911, but then I remember that won’t work here. I hang up and phone 999. They promise to send an ambulance right over.
The bandage from my arm has come undone and blood drips on the floor, mixing with the spilled water.
“Please be okay,” I whisper next to my aunt’s ear as I kneel beside her. “Please don’t die.”
BY THE TIME the ambulance arrives my aunt is awake and talking. She tries to get up but I tell her she should wait.
She gives me one of her I-don’t-know-what-the-big-deal-is looks. “I feel fine, Heather. Honestly.”
“You fell. You were passed out for like, five minutes.” I’m not going to let her brush this off. “You’re not okay.”
She allows the paramedics to check her out and she tells them about the cancer and the chemo and promises to go see her doctor right away. She says she skipped lunch and it was probably a blood sugar thing.
They seem satisfied and leave, but still, I’m not happy and I insist she call her doctor and make an appointment for the next day.
After she hangs up, she looks at me, head tilted. “You know,” she says, surprise in her voice, “I really am a wee bit hungry. Would you mind terribly making pancakes again, or are you sick of them?”
“No…I mean yes. I’ll make them. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” I’m completely exhausted. Worrying about Aunt Abbie is draining. I don’t want to show her how tired I am, not when she’s so sick herself.
“I feel great,” she tells me with a grin.
I make another batch of pancakes. I don’t care if she only picks at them. I’d make her a million pancakes if it would make her happy. To my shock, she digs into the stack, devouring bite after bite.
“Um…whipped cream?” I ask.
“Aye, please,” she says with her mouth full. “This is just…beautiful,” she adds, savoring each morsel.
After she polishes off the plate she sits back with a satisfied grin, her hand rubbing her stomach. “I havenae enjoyed a meal like that since I started this round of chemo. I feel really good.”
“I’m glad,” I say as I clean up. “Since they’re like, the only thing I know how to make.” I glance at her. “But if you feel so good…why did you faint?”
“I dinnae know.” Again, the it’s-not-a-big-deal look, as if passing out is something normal people do on a regular basis. “I’ll go to the doctor tomorrow and we’ll see what he says. Dinnae worry, Heather.”
“Don’t worry?” I slam the pan down in the sink. I turn to her. “I found you unconscious on the kitchen floor!” I take a breath and say a little more calmly, “I thought you were going to die.”
She grimaces. “I’m sorry I scared you…it isnae like I was having a go at you. It wasnae a prank.” She smiles and I can’t help but smile back.
“I know.”
“And I’m fine now. More than fine. I think we should go to the comedy show and then grab dinner after. How’s that sound?”
“That would be…great,” I tell her, turning back to the dishes. I’m glad she says she’s feeling better, but I’m scared she’s just putting on a good face for me. I’m not a small child anymore, clueless to her pain. I make a promise that I will help my aunt as much as possible while I’m here.
Abbie and I spend the next morning at the hospital, where she has a full examination, complete with a blood draw and an X-ray. Afterward I head to Asha
’s house, my head full of worry and fears. I had another strange dream last night. I can’t quite remember what it was about. I just know that I woke with a sore throat and a pounding heart.
I’m almost there when I get a text from Fiona, bringing me back from the dark shadows of my dreams to the bright sunshine of the day.
My parents are driving me mental!
I smile. I love Fiona.
Getting to Asha’s now, can you hang out with us?
No, I have to work. What about later?
Okay, call me.
I think that’s the end of it, but within seconds Fiona texts:
My mum told me your aunt was sick again. Is she okay?
Yes, they just need to run a few tests.
What kind of tests?
Then, immediately after,
Is it serious?
I’m standing in Asha’s doorway when she pokes her head out the door. “Heather!” She squeals and tackles me. It kind of takes me by surprise. While Fiona is wild and crazy, Asha has always been more reserved.
I grin. “Hi!” My phone dings and Asha takes a step back and smiles.
“Let me guess…Fiona?” she asks. I notice she’s started wearing eyeliner and mascara, accentuating her dark eyes. And while she’s always been thin, now she’s curvy too.
“The one and only. Who else text stalks like she does?”
Asha grabs my hand and drags me inside. I love the way her house smells, like turmeric and cinnamon. The décor is interesting too, a mix of East and West. Kind of like her family. Her grandparents moved here from India, and both of her parents were born here.
I wave to her mom, who sits at the kitchen table sipping tea. She’s wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt. Next to her sits Asha’s grandma, in a traditional sari.
“Hello, Mrs. Khatri.” I turn to Asha’s grandmother. “Hi, Awa Khatri.” Awa is what Asha calls her grandma.
Mrs. Khatri grins at me. “Hello, Heather. It’s so nice to see you again.”
Asha’s grandma nods. “Good girls. Good, good girls.”
“Thanks, Awa,” Asha tells her fondly. “Mum, we’re just going to my room for a bit.”
“All right. Don’t forget you have to meet your father at the library at four.” Asha’s dad works with Aunt Abbie at the university. He’s a librarian for the history department.
“Oh, wait,” I say before Asha drags me away. “I’m having a sleepover tomorrow night. Can Asha come?”
“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Khatri pauses. “Is it okay with Abbie?”
“Oh, yeah. She insisted.” I wave my hand and do my best Aunt Abbie impression. “ ‘The world doesnae stop because Abigail MacNair has cancer. Invite your friends over. I’m still going to dinner with my friends.’ ”
I expect them to laugh, but all I get is silence. “So, she’s fine with it,” I say lamely. Asha’s grandma stands and comes over to me, wrapping me in a big hug.
“Awa!” Asha says, but I don’t mind.
I follow Asha to her room, collapse on her bed and quickly text Fiona.
Sleepover at my place tomorrow? 7pm.
Fiona responds immediately.
I’m there. Tell Abbie we love her!
Asha sits next to me on the bed. “So, how is your aunt really?”
I sigh. “She fell yesterday, but then she bounced right back. We went to a comedy show, and after that we found an Italian restaurant. She ate a huge plate of fettuccine Alfredo without vomiting afterward. In the world of chemo that’s pretty impressive.”
“So it’s looking good?”
“Definitely.” I don’t tell Asha that the doctor explained that the chemo wasn’t working as well as they’d hoped and they can’t operate because of the placement of the tumor. I hear the doctor’s words echo in my head. Unfortunately, Ms. MacNair, it seems that your body is resisting the chemo. Your cells are dividing normally without being destroyed and unfortunately, that means the tumor has continued to grow. I was so stressed when I heard all this that I rubbed my nail raw, causing it to bleed.
“Has she lost her hair?” Asha asks, pulling at her own long black braid.
“No. She didn’t last time either.” I take a deep breath. “She’s doing fine. Let’s talk about you, though…and your boyfriend.” I grin. “I haven’t been online lately, and when I go on all I see are pictures of you and some guy. I’m surprised he’s not here now!”
“Well, we’ve only been together for a month. When I turned sixteen my parents decided I could date.” Asha’s parents have always been really strict.
“So who is he?”
She gives me a funny look. “You don’t know?”
I shake my head.
“Remember Robby’s friend Duncan?”
“Duncan? Long-haired metal-band freak Duncan?” I ask.
Asha’s face pinches. “He’s gotten a haircut since you last saw him.”
“Yeah, no kidding. I didn’t recognize him at all. When did you decide you liked him?”
“It just sort of happened. Fiona and I went over to Robby’s and Duncan was there. He’d just cut his hair and I realized how cute he was and we started talking about…I don’t even remember what. Then he asked me out.”
I send Robby a text.
Back in town. Meeting up with Fiona & Asha for a sleepover tomorrow. Want to hang with the girls?
I look up and catch Asha raise her eyebrows. “What?” I ask. “It’s rude to read over people’s shoulders, you know,” I joke.
“Are you sure it’s okay to invite Robby? Your aunt won’t mind a boy being there when she’s out?”
“A boy?” I say, trying to understand. “You think my aunt would be worried that something would happen with me and Robby?” I laugh but she purses her lips. “I’ve known him since I was a baby.”
My phone buzzes.
As much as I hate to miss a good pillow fight, I’m working tomorrow night.
Oh yeah, heard about the new job. Sounds cheesy.
Meet up Saturday? I’ll get you on the afternoon tour for free. . 3 p.m. Princes Street Gardens by the Scott Monument.
Ha ha. I’ll be there.
Asha and I talk about the internship she’s doing at the library with her father and all the books she’s been reading. Her parents push her, but not in a crazy-tiger-mom kind of way. More in a we-want-you-to-have-advantages-in-life kind of way. I’m sort of jealous of how normal she is.
My aunt picks me up at four, and she seems better than she did yesterday, but I must be giving her pretty pathetic looks because she finally says, “Heather, it seems bad, but I’m no’ giving up. I feel fantastic. I’m no’ done with life just yet.”
I sigh. “Then why did you cancel your travel plans? You’ve been talking about taking a trip to Australia forever, and now you’re just fine with not going?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” she says. “Please, try to understand. I just want to focus on getting better now.”
I nod and keep quiet on the drive home. I wonder if this is the last summer I will spend with my aunt. I haven’t even seen Gram yet.
“Can we stop by the nursing home?” I ask. “I just want to make sure Gram’s okay.”
My aunt doesn’t answer and I wonder if she heard me. I’m about to ask again when she says, “I check in with her nurses every day. Today they said she’s no’ doing well. It would be best to wait until she has a good day.”
“What does a bad day mean?”
“It means that if we go today, she won’t know who you are.”
“I still want to see her,” I insist.
On the outside the home looks like a small hospital, which, I suppose, it is. My aunt signs in and talks with the receptionist for a moment. She waves hello to one of the nurses and stops to speak with an elderly woman who asks after my dad. She must have met him in the spring. I wonder what’s wrong with the woman, or if she’s just too old to take care of herself.
We make our way through a common area and down a hall. My
aunt stops at a door.
“This is it,” she tells me, pushing it open. Gram’s room is nicer than I expected. It looks comfy, like her old room in my aunt’s flat. There are pictures of her family and friends everywhere, knickknacks she’s collected over the years, and an obnoxious number of doilies. It screams “An old British lady lives here!” It’s perfectly Gram.
She sits on her bed, staring at the wall. “Gram,” I say, and she turns toward me. Her gray-white hair is cropped short and she wears a simple blue housedress. Her face is blank.
“It’s me…Heather.”
“Heather?” she repeats softly. Her eyes focus on me. “Are you a friend of Abigail’s?”
“No…I…” I don’t know what to say.
“Well, if you must see her, be quick about it. Michael is taking the entire family on holiday, to Italy, if you can believe it.” Michael is my grandfather who died before I was even born.
“I remember that holiday,” my aunt says, appearing at my side. “I was twelve and we spent a week in Florence. Your father was ill the entire time…stomach flu. He didnae even leave the hotel. He was so mad that I came home with a tan and he didnae. No’ that he can tan.”
“No, he just burns,” I say quietly. I see that my grandma is losing focus. “Have a lovely time on your trip.”
“Thank you, dear. So polite…Abigail should invite you around more often,” she murmurs absently, turning away.
“I know you wanted to see her, Heather,” my aunt tells me as we’re walking back to the car. “But when she’s like this you can’t get through to her. She gets stuck in a time in her life and you have to wait for her to find her way back. She has better days, though.” She puts her arm around me. “She’ll even know who you are sometimes.
“Look, it’s no’ hard to get here. You can just hop on the bus, I’ll show you which one. Come back and visit her anytime. We’ll call first and see what kind of a day she’s having.”
I nod and get into the car. Seeing Gram like that was horrible, and I can feel the need building up inside me. I try to ignore the urge that drives me to cut myself, but I know that when I get home, I will bleed.
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