Heart Like Mine A Novel - By Amy Hatvany Page 0,53
believe it when more tears came now. My stomach hurt and my eyes were so swollen, it was almost hard to see out of them. Crying made it worse.
“I miss Mama,” Max said. His voice crackled. “I don’t want her to be dead.”
“Me neither, buddy,” Dad said. “I wish I could change it, but I can’t. We’ll just have to stick together and find a way through, okay? I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here for you.”
You left before, I thought. You left and Mama couldn’t handle it. You got a new life and a new girlfriend and now she’s dead. Panic suddenly gripped me. What if he died, too? What if he didn’t want us to live there? What if Grace didn’t want us? I felt wobbly inside, balancing atop the thinnest of threads, terrified I might make a wrong move and lose my father, too. Letting go of his hand, I wrapped my arm around my brother and he leaned against me, still crying softly.
“Ava?” Dad reached over and wiped my cheek with his fingers. “Do you remember anything from yesterday morning?”
I sniffled. “Like what?” Everything seemed blurry in my head, like a movie set on fast-forward. I wanted to press pause and then rewind so we could go back to yesterday, when Mama was still here.
“I don’t know.” He paused. “I guess if something happened that seemed out of the ordinary. If your mom acted differently than she normally would.”
The moment she threw her palm flat against the wall flashed in my mind. “She got dizzy,” I said. “She said it was because she had too much coffee, but I thought it was because she hasn’t been sleeping. Or eating.” I searched my dad’s face. “Can that make you dizzy?”
He nodded. “Sometimes.”
“What did the doctors say happened?” I asked, the muscles in my stomach twisting tighter with every breath I took. More tears swelled in my chest, trying to fight their way out.
Dad looked at Max and then back and me. “They’re not really sure. All we know is that she lay down in her bed and then . . . her heart stopped.”
“Did she have a heart ’ttack?” Max asked, sounding much younger than seven. He only talked like a baby when he was really upset.
“I don’t know, Maximilian. I wish I did.”
We were quiet a moment, then Max spoke again in a tiny voice. “What’s going to happen to us now? Where will we go?”
Dad visibly tensed for a second, then relaxed. “You’ll stay here, of course. I’ll take care of everything, I promise.”
“What about the rest of my stuff?” Max asked.
“Who cares about your stuff, dummy,” I snapped, pulling away from him, and my dad put his hand on my forearm, squeezing lightly. “Ava,” he said.
I wouldn’t look at him. If I did, I might cry again. I didn’t want to be like her. I didn’t want to cry too much. I gave him what I knew he wanted. “Sorry, Max. I didn’t mean it.” My dad offered me a grateful look, then turned to my brother.
“We’ll get the rest of your stuff, kiddo. Maybe not all of it at once, but the important things, okay?”
“Okay,” Max said, easily satisfied.
I swallowed. “What about Mom’s stuff?”
Dad paused again, considering this. “I’ll probably box most of it up and keep it in storage for you two, when you’re older. Does that sound like a good idea?”
Both Max and I nodded, even though I couldn’t imagine putting away all of Mama’s things in a cold, dark storage room. I wanted to have them with me. I wanted to smell her perfume and wear her clothes; I wanted to wrap myself in the blanket she used to cuddle with me under on the living room couch. I want her not to be dead.
Dad smiled. “Okay then. That’s what we’ll do.”
I stood up. “I’m going to my room.” My dad stood up, too, and Max turned the TV back on and picked up the controller for the Xbox. Dad and I walked together through the kitchen, where he pulled me into a long hug and kissed the top of my head, just like Mama used to. I felt my body tensing, wanting to pull away, but I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t sure of anything.
In my bedroom, I picked up my cell phone and checked the text messages. There were six from Bree, asking why I had to leave class. I didn’t know how I could say the