What I Should’ve Said

Norah

Once Bennett excused himself from the room to talk to his sister, I set up Summer’s bedside table in front of her so we could browse the People magazine I brought together and put her favorite sunglasses in a place she’d be able to see them. Wearing them inside while hooked up to all these machines isn’t ideal, but I hope just having them around will brighten her day a little.

I flip to a two-page spread talking about Taylor Swift’s wardrobe. They highlight how her street style is simple yet sophisticated and that she utilizes anything from feminine skirt sets to cozy crewnecks to create a very wearable aesthetic.

“Ohhh! I love that.” Summer is entranced as she points to a photo of Taylor wearing a flowy white blouse and faded, light-blue jean skirt. “Do you like her?”

“Do I like Taylor Swift? Girl, I love her.”

“Me too!” Summer exclaims excitedly. “I love all of her songs! My favorite is—” She’s cut off by a deep, rattling cough that barrels from her weak lungs. Instantly, her face goes from happy and relaxed to scrunched up in pain.

Memories of yesterday alarm inside my head, and it takes everything within me to stay calm.

“You okay, sweet girl?” I ask as I gently rub my hand over her hair.

Through another cough, she offers me a little nod.

The scared part of me wants to run out of the room to get Bennett or a nurse, but the logical part of me knows that would be too much dramatics for Summer. The last thing she needs is for me to act like an emotional lunatic and push my anxiety on to her. So, I stay rooted to my spot, rubbing my hand whisper-light through her hair as she works her way through the coughing fit. The entire time, my gaze stays fixated on her face, watching for any signs of respiratory difficulty to arise.

Thankfully, her lips stay pink, her breaths don’t appear to be any more labored than they have been since I got here, and the coughs subside within a minute or two.

“Norah?” she asks, her voice still faint and raspy from the strain.

“Yeah, baby?”

“I’m so tired,” she whispers.

“Oh, okay,” I tell her and lean down to kiss her forehead. “You should let yourself get some sleep, then. We can finish the rest of People later.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she says, and her voice is this painfully fragile sound that urges a deep ache to spur inside my chest. “I’m tired of this stuff, Norah.”

Her face is missing the smile that was there when we were browsing the latest celebrity gossip, and her eyes are no longer on the magazine. Instead, they’re staring down at where her small, frail body lies secured to the bed with padded contraptions immobilizing her limbs.

“Do you want me to get your dad?”

She shakes her head. “Not yet.”

I pull the chair Bennett was using earlier back over to her bedside and sit down, leaning my elbows on the edge of her bed and gently taking her hand into mine. “Is there something you want to talk about?” I ask her softly. “Because I promise you can tell me anything. I’m a really good listener.”

Slowly, her eyes lift to meet mine. “What do you think heaven is like?”

Her question catches me off guard. Hell, it makes my knees want to give out and I’m sitting down. I’m sure it’s normal for kids to ask questions about heaven, but it feels heavier when a little girl in a hospital bed is asking you those questions. A little girl who has a disease that makes it possible for her bones to break with just a simple touch.

A hurricane of emotion floods my throat, and I bite the inside of my cheek so hard to keep it in check that the faint taste of blood touches my tongue.

“Well…” I pause, trying to find the right words. “I think heaven…” My bottom lip starts to quiver, and I suck it into my mouth to make it quit. “I think heaven is…like being around all the things that make you happy…but in one place.”

“You think you can watch sunsets in heaven?”

“Yeah, baby, I do.” I nod and tenderly rub her hand, careful not to squeeze. “And I even think if you want the sunsets to be pink, they’ll be pink.”

“Pink sunsets are the best,” she says, and her mouth just barely lifts into a smile. “When I don’t have to stay inside the house, Dad and I watch the sunsets together. I really hate when I have to miss them because I’m too sick to go outside.”

How fucking awful. I never make a point to be angry at God, but it’s hard when I think about Summer and the many obstacles she’s had to overcome in her short life. Her disease has prevented her from having a normal childhood. It’s made her face more pain than most people will ever face in their lifetime.

I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, and yet this little girl, this special, beautiful little creature with the sweetest soul I’ve ever come in contact with, has been carrying this burden since the day she was born.

“I bet you can run in heaven. As fast and as far as you want,” she whispers, a smile cresting her lips as her eyes start to fall closed. “I bet you can play at the playground… I bet your bones stay strong… And you can hug people as many times as you want, and they can hug you right back all the time…”

“I bet you can too,” I whisper back, one stupid tear slipping down my cheek.

“Don’t tell my dad I asked you that. It might make him sad,” she says, but her eyes stay closed, and her voice is thick with fatigue.

Before I can even answer, she’s asleep.

It’s all nearly too much.

Through quiet inhales and exhales of my lungs, I work to get myself together. And the entire time, I try really hard not to think about why a little girl in her condition would be asking me about heaven. Or why she doesn’t want me to tell her dad about it.

Once I’m certain she’s deep in sleep and I don’t feel like I’m going to bawl like a baby, I make my way out of Summer’s hospital room, tiptoeing as I pull the door gently closed behind me. Bennett stands on the other side of the hall, his back against the wall and his phone to his ear.

It’s not even ten seconds before he hangs up, though, saying, “Bye, Breezy” into the receiver.

“She fell asleep,” I update him as he shoves his phone into his pocket.

He nods and pushes away from the wall to meet me by her door. “I figured she wouldn’t be up for long with all the stuff they’ve got pumping in her right now.” Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I try to smile softly, but after the conversation I just had with his daughter, it’s hard.

“You okay?” he asks, searching my face as he lifts one hand to brush a few strands of hair behind my ear. “I know you got back late last night, but you look a little more than tired.”

I try to smile again, but it feels like it’s creased with lies.

“What’s going on?” he pushes delicately, and my mind wars with itself on what to say. Between Summer and Josie finding the letter and me finding out the truth about Jezzy, I feel like my brain is a pinball machine.

But when I note the dark circles underneath his blue eyes and the pain that sits right behind them, it doesn’t feel like the right moment to tell him about the conversation I just had with Summer. Or that she asked me not to tell him. Bennett has enough to deal with as it is.

“Norah?” He places a gentle hand to my shoulder. “Did something happen?”

Did something happen? Sigh. It feels like too many somethings have happened.

“My night didn’t end when I left the Happy Trail parking lot,” I reveal. “When I got home last night, Josie was still up. She found the letter I got on my wedding day. She read it.”

“So, she knows the whole story now?”

“She knows the whole story, and I guess, so do I.” Tears fill my eyes. “She… Bennett, she thinks my mom killed my baby sister, Jezzy.”

Bennett pulls me into his arms, holding me in a tight embrace, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer than I do in his arms.