by Sera Trevor
His mother glanced at Rebecca once more. “I suppose she isn’t going anywhere, is she?” She stood. “All right, then.”
“I’m not leaving,” his dad said. He sat in the chair his mother just vacated and started to read aloud from his Bible: “For in it God’s righteousness is being revealed by faith and for faith, just as it is written: But the righteous one will live by reason of faith...”
Romans, 1:17. Noah didn’t want to stick around for the rest of Romans. He tried not to look like he was fleeing.
When they reached the cafeteria, Noah got two coffees while his mother found a seat. He grabbed a handful of creamers and sugars—his mom liked her coffee sweet. Just like my son, she used to say, when Noah was still her good little boy. He took his own black.
He sat down across from her and handed her the coffee. She stirred in the creamers and sugars, focusing on her cup as if it took a great deal of concentration. They sat in silence for several uncomfortable moments.
“Why did you decide to go into nursing?” his mother finally asked.
“It pays well, and there are always jobs,” he said. “And I like helping people. It makes me happy.”
“You always were a sweet boy,” she said. “Gentle. Your father didn’t like it. He wanted you tough. That’s why he was hard on you.”
Noah flinched. His father had mostly spared Rebecca the harsher punishments, at least while he was still around. He swallowed, not sure he wanted to know, but he had to ask. “Was he...hard on Rebecca after I left?”
She flexed her fingers around her coffee. “No, I wouldn’t say so. Of course, there was that week after you disappeared. We were both probably harder on her than we ought to have been. We thought you might have told her something beforehand. But she swore in front of the elders that she didn’t know anything about it, and we believed her.”
Noah could picture it all too clearly. A crying Rebecca, only fifteen years old, prostrating herself in front of the elders. It was why he hadn’t said goodbye. He hadn’t wanted her to get in trouble. Of course, she’d gotten into trouble anyway, so really it was just more cowardice on his part.
“She took it real hard,” his mother continued. “We all did. To have you there one day and gone the next...” She looked away and put a hand over her mouth. He was afraid she might cry for a moment, but she composed herself. “But I suppose that’s in the past now.”
“I guess it is.” Noah stared into his coffee, his face reflected in the dark liquid. “Are you planning on seeing Uncle Zeke?”
Her nostrils flared. “I don’t plan to seek him out, if that’s what you’re asking, but I imagine I won’t be able to avoid it. She is living with him, isn’t she?”
“Yes ma’am. He’s been very supportive of us both.”
She scoffed. “Supportive. Well, that’s one way to put it. He poisoned you, led you away from the Truth.”
Noah shook his head. “I sought him out, not the other way around.”
“But you didn’t have any trouble finding him, did you? He made sure of that.”
“Can we not argue right now?” Noah pleaded. “Please?”
They lapsed into silence. Noah pulled his phone out to look at the time. When he looked up, he caught his mother glancing at the phone. “That’s a cute picture,” she said. His wallpaper was a picture of Bette in a giant white bow, giggling.
“Thanks.” Noah laughed a little. “I was lucky to get that shot. She won’t keep the bows on her head for more than a minute.”
“Rebecca was the same way.” She paused. “Could you send it to me?” The request was almost shy.
“Of course.” Noah texted her the picture. A few moments later, his mother’s phone beeped. She swiped it open and smiled.
“I mean it when I say she looks just like Rebecca. You wouldn’t be able to tell their baby pictures apart.”
Noah hesitated. “Maybe you can send some to me.”
She started to smile but caught herself. She folded her hands and looked away. “I pray that your sister recovers. But when she does, it doesn’t change the fact that you broke your word to Jehovah. Rebecca hasn’t been baptized, so it wouldn’t be impossible for her to rejoin us. But you were, Noah. I didn’t push you to. In fact, I cautioned you. I told you to be completely sure. Do you remember?”
Noah bit the inside of his cheek. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And you went ahead anyway. You said you loved Jehovah, but now you’ve turned your back on Him.” She shook her head. “I can’t abide that. I just can’t.”
“Noah?” A familiar voice caused Noah to turn around. It was Mrs. Hernandez, his patient. Her headscarf today was printed with flowers of every color of the rainbow, and she was smiling at him. Mrs. Hernandez was too pragmatic for sunniness, but she had a warmth, nevertheless, like a furnace rather than a sun.
She shuffled her way over to them and held out her arms. Noah stood and gave her a hug. She swayed a little, so Noah remained standing, one hand on her arm to steady her.
“They say your sister is ill, and you are out on leave.” She ignored his mother, but Noah couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not.
“Yes, very sick.”
Mrs. Hernandez clucked. “I’m sorry to hear it. Terrible thing, having a sick relative. Worse than being sick yourself, and I’ve seen both sides of it.” She patted his arm. “Still, I am glad to see you. It’s my last treatment today. At least for now. Doctors say things are looking good.”
Noah smiled. “That’s great news.”
She snorted. “They’ve said that before. But we’ll see. With luck, I won’t see you again for a while. I’ll miss you.”
“You can always come have a cup of coffee with me.” Noah looked at his mother, who was staring down at her coffee, her expression blank. She didn’t seem inclined to be a part of the conversation, but it felt uncomfortable to leave her out. “This is my mother, Mrs. Henderson. Mom, this is Mrs. Hernandez, a patient of mine.”
Mrs. Hernandez inclined her head. “Nice to meet you. I’m sorry about your daughter.”
“Thank you.” Her expression remained blank.
“Your son is a treasure,” she continued. “Of all the nurses who have cared for me here, he is my favorite. He has a gift. You should be proud.”
His mother’s gaze fluttered to the floor. She made a response too low to hear.
Mrs. Hernandez frowned. “What’s that? I’m afraid my hearing isn’t good.”
His mother raised her voice. “I said I’m sure he has done well in his profession.”
Her frown deepened. “What a strange way of putting it.” She shook her head and turned her attention back to Noah. “I’ll take you up on that coffee once I’ve recovered from all this damned poison. I pray your sister will be better by then, too.”
“Me too.” He gave her another quick hug. “I’m glad I got to see you.”
“I should get going, then. My daughter will be here to pick me up soon.” Mrs. Hernandez turned to his mother. “She’s a teacher. Very talented. I brag about her to everyone. It’s a mother’s joy to take pride in her children.”
Noah smiled tightly. “Tell her I said hello.”
Once Mrs. Hernandez was gone, Noah resumed his seat. An awkward silence fell over them, and it lasted until they finished their coffee. “We should probably go back,” Noah said.
“I suppose we should.”
When they got back, his father was still reading the Bible, but not aloud. Another chair had appeared, so at least they all had seats. His mother pulled out some knitting. Noah played a mindless game on his phone, sneaking glances at his parents and his sister. What would Rebecca think about them being there? If only he could ask her.
Half an hour later, Dr. Ling appeared. She shook his parents’ hands.
Once the greetings were out of the way and they were settled, Dr. Ling got down to business. She went over Rebecca’s condition—her aneurysm, the surgery she received, her prognosis. “Do you have any questions?”
“Is she going to live?” his mother asked, her voice quavering.
“She’s not out of the woods yet, but I’m pretty confident that she will.”
It was as if a weight had been lifted from all of them. Noah’s shoulders relaxed. His mother dabbed her eyes with a tissue and praised Jehovah. Even his dad looked less rigid than usual.
“You say the coma is induced,” his father said. “When will you bring her out of it?”
“Depending on her progress, we’ll stop the anesthesia in a few days. It might take her some time to wake up after that. I must warn you, though, she is likely to have serious health concerns going forward.”
His mother wrung her hands. “Such as?”
“Muscle weakness or paralysis. Difficulty with speech and thinking. Seizures. Mood swings, even personality changes. She’s young, and she is receiving excellent care. But she will need a lot of support to aid in her recovery.”
“Well, we can certainly help there,” his mother said. “My husband has just retired. We can devote ourselves to her recovery full time.”
That he had been expecting this didn’t ease the panic. They couldn’t take her, they just couldn’t. He barely heard the rest of the conversation, nodding vaguely when it seemed like it was required. Dr. Ling shook their hands again. It wasn’t until she was gone that Noah found his voice again. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to move her across the country.”
“I agree.” His mother resumed her knitting. “Which is why we’re moving here.”
Noah’s heart stopped. “What?”
“Your father’s retired. We’d planned to sell the house anyway so we could travel, but that can wait.” Her needles clacked together. “Clearly this is a part of Jehovah’s plan.”
Noah swallowed. “How do you know that she would want you to take care of her?”
“How do you know she wouldn’t?” his mother shot back. “Who else is going to do it? I know you applied for guardianship, but you don’t even have time to take care of your own daughter. Do you plan to offload Rebecca on Oscar’s mother too?”
That stung. Noah clenched his fists. “You haven’t spoken to her in years. You can’t just come back and—and take her!”
His father stood, his face red with rage. “She is our daughter!”
Noah started, nearly falling out of his chair. All at once he was a child again, terrified and helpless in the face of his father’s anger. His father took a step toward him. Noah scrambled to his feet, his heart pounding.
“This is all your fault,” his father continued, quieter now but no less intense. “You turned your back on Jehovah, on your own family, to give yourself over to perversion. This is Jehovah’s judgment on you.” He pointed to Rebecca’s prone form, covered in tubes and wires. “Look at her. Look at what your sin has done. Your corruption. Your blasphemy. Your filth. It’s a poison, and it’s killing her. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Noah’s whole body shook. He looked over at his mother, who was attending to her knitting as if none of this was happening. He tried to form a response, but nothing came.
His father scoffed. “That’s what I thought.” He folded his arms and turned his back to him.
Noah just stood there for a moment, swaying. Over the years, he had defended himself in his mind to his parents, going over and over what he could say to make them understand. Nothing came to him right now. His blood roared in his ears, drowning out his thoughts. He tried again to catch his mother’s eye, but she didn’t so much as glance his way.
It was pointless, anyway. Noah did what he did best. He ran away.
7
The drive home was a blur. One minute Noah was at the hospital, and the next he was sitting in his driveway, blinking down at his hands. Only when he turned off the car did he remember telling Carmen he’d pick up Bette on his way home. He’d forgotten her. What kind of a father was he?
But the thought of driving to Carmen’s was exhausting, even if it was only a ten-minute drive. He didn’t even know if he’d could make it into the house. He took his phone out of his pocket and called Carmen. She picked up after the second ring.
“How is your sister?” she asked.
“Fine. Or not fine, but the same. The doctor said she will live.”
“Praise God!” Carmen said. It sounded different than when his own mother expressed a similar sentiment. Like an exclamation of joy instead of a command. “Such a relief,” she continued. “So they take her out of the coma soon?”
“Yes, in two weeks or so.” He didn’t have the energy to say more. “I was wondering if you could keep Bette—”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “I can keep her as long as you need. You sound exhausted. You should nap. I’ll bring Bette over later, when Oscar’s home. And some dinner too.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Maybe, but I like to do it, so let me take care of you, okay? Go sleep now. I expect to find you in your pajamas when I come over.”
Noah laughed a little. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
He went inside and changed into his comfiest plaid sweatpants. But when he lay down, his exhaustion couldn’t overcome the chaos in his head. Were his parents right? How on earth was he going to care for Rebecca if she was severely disabled? Lock her away in some rest home? Zeke had his business to run, and he certainly couldn’t ask Oscar’s parents for help. He depended on them too much already.
But it was his responsibility, because it was his fault. Maybe it wasn’t Jehovah’s judgment, but if Noah had never left home, Rebecca wouldn’t have followed him. And if she hadn’t followed him, she would have never fallen into a depression and started using drugs. True, the doctor said that he couldn’t be sure if her drug use had contributed to the aneurysm, but it had to have. He was sure of it.
Sorrow and shame welled in him, but he was too tired to cry. Instead, he put an ASMR video on his phone and shut his eyes. The gentle whispers and taps didn’t get rid of his thoughts, but they dampened them a little. He lay there for a long time, halfway between sleep and waking, until he heard the garage. He sat up and looked at the time. Oscar was early.
Noah headed downstairs just as Oscar came inside. Oscar put his arms around him. “Did you get some rest?”
“I take it you talked to your mom. Is that why you’re home early?”
“She was worried. Can’t blame her, can you?”
“I guess not.”
Oscar peered at him. “It’s good news about your sister, right?”
He forced a smile. “Yeah.”
“...but?”
Part of him wanted to say nothing, to just pretend for the rest of the night that his parents didn’t exist and deal with it tomorrow. But Oscar wasn’t one to let things go. “My parents say that they’re moving here.”
Oscar blinked. “What? Why?”
“To take care of Rebecca.”
Oscar scoffed. “Good fucking luck to them on that. They’re not taking her anywhere.”
Noah bit the inside of his cheek. “Maybe they have a point.”
“You think it’s a good idea to hand your sister over to your crazy cultist parents?” Oscar’s voice raised. “What the fuck, Noah?”
More shame. He turned to hide his burning face and stumbled into the living room.
Oscar followed him. “Do you think that’s what she would want?”
Noah sank to the couch and put his head in his hands. “I don’t know! She’s just been so unhappy since she came here. And we aren’t capable of taking care of her.”
Oscar sat down beside him. “How do you know that?”
Noah stopped short. It was a good question. “Well, we both work.”
“We can live on my salary, you know. And I can always pick up a side gig for a little while. If you want to take some time off, that’s not a problem.” He gestured around them. “And we have this nice house. I mean, I guess the stairs aren’t ideal, but we could set the living room up as a bed
room.”
He hadn’t even thought of that. “But there’s Bette—”
“Mom will help. You know that.” He put a hand on his back. “What’s really going on?”
He should tell him about the horrible things his father had said. But he knew what would happen. Oscar would go ballistic on his parents, and he couldn’t deal with that right now. “I’m sorry. It’s just...overwhelming.”
Oscar squeezed his shoulder. “Yeah, I know. But we’ll work it out, okay? And we’re getting ahead of ourselves anyway. One day at a time, right?”
Noah smiled weakly. “Right.”
The doorbell rang. “That’s probably Mom,” Oscar said. “She said she’s bringing her enchiladas. That’s got to make you feel at least a little better.”
“It does, actually.” And it was true. He had a family, a real family, who were there to support him. It seemed a little crazy that he’d even entertained letting his parents have their way. Scary how quick they could get into his head, even after all these years. He needed to be careful.
Oscar went to answer the door, but he didn’t hear Carmen’s laugh, or Bette’s gurgle. Instead, it was his mother’s voice. “I’d like to talk to my son.”
“He’s resting,” Oscar said flatly, even though his mom could probably see him. The living room wasn’t too far from the front door. It would be easy enough to let Oscar handle it. But what if something had happened with Rebecca?
He steeled himself and joined Oscar at the door. “I was just getting up,” he said. “Has something happened with Becks?”
“No, she’s the same.” She hesitated. “May I come in?”
Noah was glad he hadn’t told Oscar about their fight, because he would have slammed the door in her face, if not worse. Instead, he cocked his head at Noah. “Can she?”
“Of course,” he said to his mother. “Please, come in.”
He led her into the living room, with Oscar following close behind. She took a seat and gave Oscar a cool look. “I’d like to speak to my son alone, please.”