Chapter 21
Kate
I could hear the words coming out of the therapist’s mouth, but I wasn’t really registering them. In my mind, it was all the same stuff I’d been hearing all day. Hell, it was the same thing I’d been hearing for years now.
Claire was sick. She had depression. She needed support. The therapist could tell that I was a good amount of support, but that didn’t mean that Claire wouldn’t need therapy. I knew the drill. I knew it all too well.
Her tone was quiet, just like all the other doctors before. She spoke in almost a whisper, sort of like she was trying to save me from embarrassment. Most people would have probably been grateful for that, but I wasn’t.
It was that “I’m so sorry you have to deal with this shameful illness” tone that made me realize how incredibly happy I was that I was going into the field that I was going into. Kids like Claire — and kids with other issues, perhaps completely different from Claire’s — needed people to understand. Kids with special needs deserved someone to look at them without pity and without judgment.
They deserved an un-hushed conversation about their issues. They deserved to feel accepted and like it wasn’t some disgusting or taboo thing to be the way that they were.
They needed a safe environment to work through whatever ailments they had. They didn’t need this kind of talk the therapist was giving us now, a tone that said this was a shameful topic, no matter how well-meaning her intent. I could tell that she meant well. This doctor was kind. Her eyes, a deep brown, were wide with worry and her pale face — as well as her entire demeanor — was soft. She sympathized with our situation like she really cared. I just wished she didn’t act like it was something to be ashamed of.
I wasn’t ashamed of my sister. I wasn’t embarrassed by her.
I was hurt. I was scared. I was a whole slew of other things — but embarrassed was not one of them. I believed that the illness could be overcome. I believed that it was something that was a burden — and it sucked. It really, really sucked. But it wasn’t something to be ashamed of.
Being ashamed only led to fear. Fear led to denial. Claire didn’t need to deny that she had an illness — no one needed to deny that. It was there. No matter who wanted to act like it wasn’t.
“We’d like to keep Claire for observation a little longer,” she said.
Her words shook me away from my thoughts — and my inward rant. The blond doctor looked up from her clipboard and nodded at me. It was a reassuring sort of nod, and I wasn’t sure why, but it worked. “But since you’ve already made an appointment with her primary therapist, I wouldn’t have a problem with releasing her into your care.”
I nodded back. I didn’t want the responsibility, but it felt natural at this point. I threw a small, sideways glance just over my shoulder to a sleeping Claire. I still couldn’t believe our dad wasn’t here. And moreover, I couldn’t believe that Ian — of all people — was here instead of him.
I just still couldn’t believe Dad was blowing us off at a time like this. It should have been him taking care of this. It shouldn’t have been me…
But the difference was that I wanted to take care of it. I wanted to be there. I loved Claire, and to me, showing that love meant showing up.
“Thank you so much,” I said. My voice was weak because I was exhausted from the entire day. “I really appreciate it so much.”
“Not a problem at all,” the doctor said with a grin. “I wish your family the best.”
She flipped her charts down so they lay flat against the clipboard and tucked it underneath her arm. I sighed in relief, knowing that meant the conversation was coming to a close.
She walked away, clipboard still tucked beneath her arm. The therapist followed after her. I breathed out a large huff of air as soon as I watched them disappear behind the curtain.
I turned my body so that I could look at my sister. She was still sleeping. Her head was back, mouth open. She must have been exhausted.
For a second, I felt sorry for her — for how terrible of a day it had been. But then I shrugged it off. According to the therapist, she needed a little tough love.
I wasn’t going to pull an act like my dad would, but I wasn’t going to baby her. I’d show her I loved her by being here for her. Sure, she needed understanding. She needed encouragement in other areas. She needed patience. But I wasn’t going to coddle her. She was going to have to do some of it herself.
All of a sudden, another part of me wished that my dad was there. I never was good at the tough-love part.
I was relieved that I at least still had the opportunity for tough love. That she was still here — that she was alive. All I really wanted was for her to get off of that hospital bed and onto the large brown leather couch in her therapist’s office.
More than anything, though, I wanted to take her home. I wanted to do a movie day, just the two of us. I wanted to show her what she’d be missing out on if anything were to happen to her. What I’d be missing out on….
I just wanted to drown her in love and show her that life was worth living.
The four steps to her bed were in slow motion as I thought about how I would shower her with love. I couldn’t help but watch every breath she took as her chest rose and fell. A tear burned and pulled at the edge of my eyes, and I knew that I had every reason in the world to be thankful.
She was with us, despite everything.
I swallowed the large lump in my throat and sat on the bed next to her. I looked at her face. She looked so peaceful in that moment. I couldn’t help but feel my heart leap with joy, realizing that there were moments where she wasn’t completely miserable.
Asleep or not — in that moment she was content.
She even held a faint smile on her face as she slept. And even though it was a faint smile, it was just enough for me to see the vaguely familiar dimple in her cheek. I smiled and reached out to swipe away a few strands of hair that had fallen in her face.
Someone cleared their throat behind me. “Hey,” a deep male voice said.
My eyes widened, and my mouth fell open as I looked at the man who stepped in.
His hefty girth of a belly held the curtain open as he looked in with tired eyes. Even though he looked a little disheveled, he still looked like a million dollars. He always did, though. His custom navy suit was gorgeous even in the fluorescent lights. It displayed him nicely for the whole world to see, which I was sure was exactly what he wanted. He was a man of power, and he’d never tried to hide it.
I was pretty sure, though, that I looked like a sewer rat next to him. “Mr. Murphy,” I said, angry that he hadn’t been there sooner.
“Don’t do that,” he said with a sigh. “I was busy. I’m here now.”
His gaze was strong, but his eyes were sad — and a little vulnerable. It took me aback because I rarely saw him look vulnerable. As much as I wanted to stay mad at him, I really couldn’t — not completely, that is. He’d finally decided to show up. He was doing a lot better than usual.
“How’s she doing?” he asked in a low rumble, almost so low that I didn’t hear him. He was purposely being quiet. I wasn’t sure if it was because he just didn’t want to hear it — to hear himself feel and worry about someone like Claire — or if it was because he really was that distraught.
“The doctor was just letting me know that she’ll be released to us soon,” I said.
“So they’re not going to keep her on suicide watch?” he huffed, his voice growing in strength by the word. “What kind of hospital is this?”
He was getting angry, and his steps reflected that anger. They were powerful and aimed directly at me.
He leaned against the hospital bed just beside me and threw his hands in the air in defeat. “Why are they not keeping her?”
“Calm down,” I snapped. What right did he have to get upset now? “I’ve already taken care of an appointment with her therapist.” I didn’t even bother telling him her therapist’s name, how long she’d been seeing one, or any of the other million things he already should have known. It wasn’t worth it.
“She said that she should be good to go soon enough, provided she’s seeing her therapist right away — they just have to keep her for a little longer for observation.”
He nodded, grumbling beneath his breath. I couldn’t understand a thing he’d said, but it didn’t matter. He sat down on the bed next to me, and gently grabbed hold of Claire’s leg almost absentmindedly.
With his other hand, he swiped his whitened hair, smoothing it down. I couldn’t help but stand there. I was still wondering what had changed his mind, and why he’d finally decided to come here.
I continued to stare at him, unblinking. Damn, he’d aged over the last year. The fluorescents hadn’t done him much justice after all; they showed every blemish. Every wrinkle.
His white-gray hair even looked snow-white in the room.
The stress of the job — that’s what he’d always tell me. Now, finally, I believed it.
Apparently, there was a huge ongoing lawsuit or two at the scompany, and it was keeping him busy. Too busy for my taste. But apparently not too busy to finally care enough to come and visit Claire in the hospital.
“I’m glad you came, Dad,” I said. And I was glad, for Claire if nothing else.