back home, the little voice at the back of my head taunts me, but I push it back.
“She’s growing weaker. And I worry th-that…” Jade’s voice breaks, more tears filling her eyes. I cross the hallway and pull her into my arms.
“I know, Smalls. I know,” I whisper in her hair, holding her tightly. At this point I’m not even sure who’s holding who together. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
“You’re staying?” Jade pulls back, wiping her tears to look at me.
I push a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Yes, I’ll stay. Go to bed, I’ll check in on Mom later.”
“I don’t mind…”
This time my tone is firmer. “Get some sleep, Jade.”
Finally she nods, her shoulders relaxing as if me being here has lifted the weight off her shoulders.
So damn selfish.
“‘Kay. Goodnight, Nix.”
I stand in my spot and watch her go to her room, closing the door behind her. I’m not sure how long I stand there, just staring at the closed door.
Shaking my head to snap myself out of it, I walk down the hallway and back downstairs to check that everything’s closed.
The ground floor is coated in darkness, but I don’t bother turning the lights on. I’ve walked down these hallways so many times I could do it with my eyes closed.
I’m about to go into the kitchen to get something to drink when I hear her voice.
“She’s your sister.”
My head snaps up, and I see Yasmin sitting on the couch in the living room. The only light illuminating the space is a small lamp in the corner. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.
“She is.” I walk inside and sit on the couch next to her. I could have easily sat anywhere else, but I don’t want to look at her while telling her all of this. Hell, I don’t want to tell her anything either, but I can’t leave her hanging after dragging her all the way here like a maniac without offering an explanation.
“Your mom is sick,” she says softly, but there is no mistaking her words. It’s a statement, not a question.
“Breast cancer. Stage four. It has metastasized…” I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair. “Fuck, everywhere. There is nothing they can do about it.”
My words ring in the empty room, condemning and final. It’s like every time somebody says it out loud another nail is stuck in my mother’s coffin.
I hate it.
I hate this disease. I hate how it’s ripping my family apart, and there is nothing we can do about it. I hate what it’s doing to the best woman I know, how it’s stealing parts of her, piece by broken piece, until there won’t be anything left of the woman whom I love more than life itself.
“Nixon…” Yasmin gasps. From the corner of my eye I can see her turn to look at me, I can imagine her big doe-like eyes observing me, but I don’t turn to face her. “I’m so sorry.”
Because I hate this too. Hate how when people find out the truth they look at you differently. I don’t need their pity. I don’t want her pity.
My head falls back against the couch, eyes closing. “Yeah, me too.”
We sit in silence, neither of us saying anything. The couch is small, so we’re sitting close. So close that when Yasmin shifts in her seat, I can feel her body brushing against mine. My body reacts to her nearness, but I ignore it.
“What about your dad?” she finally asks, breaking the silence.
My whole body stiffens, like it does every time somebody has mentioned him, but somehow I manage to get the words out. “He’s gone.”
“Like at work?”
“No, Yasmin. As in gone.” My eyes snap open, and I turn my head to the side to look at her. A small frown is between her brows. “I told you, you’re not the only one who has a deadbeat for a father.”
I watch the puzzle pieces fall into place as the realization dawns on her. That plump mouth of hers forms a little O, but she snaps it shut.
“He just packed his shit and left.” I shake my head as a bitter chuckle finds a way out of my lungs. “He didn’t even have the guts to say it to our faces. He left before I returned home, leaving a fucking note.”
“Nixon.”
She doesn’t say anything else. Doesn’t try to offer excuses or say how sorry she is or any other mindless bullshit like that.