Chapter 5
Chapter Five
December 2024
T ara texted Josie from the belly of the ferry. She sat in her car as her hands and legs shook from the cold and wrote: Okay, I’m on the way. Text me your address, please.
Immediately afterward, shame and sorrow rushed through her chest and made it difficult for her to breathe. Tara got out of the car and walked upstairs as the great vessel moved slowly through the Nantucket Sound. In the coffee shop, she ordered a black coffee and sat with both hands around the mug, watching the water. She was so distracted that she forgot to drink it.
It was hard not to remember that when she and Josie were in their twenties, they’d sat in this very coffee shop and cracked jokes and made each other cackle with a kind of mania that made everyone else seem gray-faced and boring. They’d only ever needed each other.
Josie wrote back with her address, followed by: You really shouldn’t come. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to let you know the situation.
Tara wrote back: I’m coming. Be there in five hours.
Tara was in a foul mood. She was also frantic and terrified. When she got back into her car, she drove a little too cautiously, so much so that she nearly caused an accident while moving off the ferry. On the highway, she cursed the drivers going over the speed limit. Didn’t they know how important her life suddenly was? Her sister needed her. Her sister had decided it was all right to just die at forty-five without trying anything else first. She couldn’t stand it.
Halfway to Manhattan, Stephanie, the grief therapist, called to check in. Tara had texted Stephanie about going to see her sister for the first time in many years. Stephanie was alarmed.
“Hi, Tara. How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.
Tara could picture Stephanie in the warmth of her beige office. She could picture her adjusting her glasses and furrowing her brow.
“I’m going to see my sister for the first time in many years,” Tara offered, feeling sarcastic. “She’s apparently dying. So I feel great, actually. Just really good.”
Stephanie had previously explained to Tara that sarcasm was a defense mechanism. Tara blushed and was grateful Stephanie couldn’t see her.
“I’m sorry,” Tara hurried to say. “I’m just really anxious.”
“That’s understandable. Remember, your relationship with your sister is a trigger for you,” Stephanie offered. “I want you to be mindful of your feelings today. When times get tough, you can always leave and regroup. I’m sure your sister has doctors, nurses, and care workers. Don’t demand more of yourself than you can give.”
Anger spiked in Tara’s chest. “She’s dying, Stephanie,” she offered. Her arms were tired and hanging off the steering wheel. “I can’t indulge my own petty nature when she might not be around tomorrow.”
“I need you to be mindful of your own heart and mind,” Stephanie said quietly. “You’ve been through a lot.”
“Josie and I have both been through a lot,” Tara said. She sniffed. “I have to go. The traffic is getting bad.” It was a lie, but it got Stephanie off her back for now.
Tara knew she should be grateful for Stephanie. She knew she should welcome the care and commitment Stephanie had to Tara’s growth and mental health. But right now, Tara felt heavy with guilt. Why hadn’t she and Josie spoken for so many years? It all felt like a blur.
The Manhattan skyline was ominous. The city itself felt too dense, thickly packed and staggering. It was hard for Tara to imagine anyone wanting to live here full-time. She drove slowly through screaming taxis, hunting for the parking garage nearest Josie’s apartment building. Snow billowed and melted on her front window, and her windshield wipers worked furiously and squeaked. When she finally cut the engine in the parking garage, she burst into tears and nearly hyperventilated. But she filled her lungs and used some of Stephanie’s tactics to calm her mind. What are five things you can see, hear, and smell right now? In front of her was an SUV with a family sticker on the back window that included the parents, three children, and a scruffy dog. She could smell the city, the snow, and the hot dog truck outside.
Tara hadn’t bought flowers. This suddenly struck her as idiotic. Her sister was very sick; she needed flowers. Rather than go directly to the front door of the apartment building, Tara used her phone to find a flower shop around the corner, where she bought a bouquet of yellow roses and a big box of fudge. She felt even more foolish with the gifts in her arms. But she wanted to use them as a shield between herself and her sister, a way of saying, I’ve been terrible. I’m so sorry . She also wanted to talk her sister into not dying. Who wanted to die when there was fudge to eat? Especially Josie. She loved chocolate.
Outside Josie’s apartment, Tara said her name to the doorman and was directed to the elevator and then to the eleventh floor. It was a relatively modern apartment building with newly painted white walls and contemporary art that confused Tara’s brain and made her think some of it had been hung upside down. Tara wondered if Josie had chosen this apartment building for herself or if it had been her husband’s decision. It was hard to say with Tara’s limited knowledge of the husband.
But the apartment building didn’t feel like Josie. It didn’t feel like her vivacious, gorgeous older sister.
When she reached Josie’s door, Tara hung nervously in the hall for what felt like an eternity. What if Josie was resting? What if she couldn’t come to the door? It was impossible to imagine her sick, and Tara half expected Josie to run to the door, swing it open, and cry out, “I got you! It was all a joke! You’re surprised, huh?” But of course, when Tara rang the bell, she got a text from Josie that just said: It’s unlocked. Come in.
So Tara entered.
The apartment smelled like a hospital. It smelled of bedpans and medicine and sweat. The scents worked in contrast to the big window overlooking Midtown, the fine furniture, and the cool-seeming art that, of course, Tara didn’t fully understand. The apartment couldn’t have been more different from Josie’s first place in downtown Nantucket.
Feeling like a fool, Tara clung to the flowers and fudge and made her way down the hall to the bedroom. A very skinny and frail-looking woman in a big fuzzy hat lay in bed, looking at the ceiling. Her eyes were very small, and her skin was the color of sand.
This is what chemo and radiation did to her , Tara thought. She thought she was going to collapse.
The woman looked nothing like Josie.
At first, Tara wasn’t even sure if Josie was conscious. But then, Josie shifted her head a little bit and croaked, “There she is. My beautiful little sister.”
Tears welled in Tara’s eyes. Although Josie sounded exhausted, it was still her voice. And although Josie looked so frail, that was still her smile. Tara had to fight every instinct not to throw herself over her sister and weep.
“Hi, Big Sis.” Tara put the flowers and fudge on the table by the bed and reached for Josie’s hand. She was so much worse than Tara had imagined her. Maybe she hadn’t properly tried to imagine her. Perhaps she hadn’t been able to.
Every shred of anger Tara had carried around toward Josie melted on the spot.
Tara held Josie’s hand for a few seconds without speaking. They looked at one another. They were mystified.
And then Josie said, “I didn’t think you’d really come.”
Tara’s heart shattered.
“After everything,” Josie said, “I really didn’t think you’d ever want to see me again.”
Tara blinked rapidly and tried to smile but failed. “I drove here like a maniac.”
Josie laughed. “You were never the best driver.”
Tara stuck out her tongue. “I was fine.”
“You got into two accidents in one month,” Josie reminded her.
“I was sixteen years old!”
But Josie and Tara laughed at the old memory. Tara had come home both times in tears, and their father had consoled her, telling her she’d get the hang of it and it would be all right.
“Dad went easy on me,” Tara remembered.
“He always did,” Josie said.
Tara held the silence for a second. It was difficult for her to think back about their parents. She still hadn’t seen them since 2001.
It was hard to believe they’d ever really loved her. It was hard to believe they’d ever shown such tenderness.
Eventually, Tara pulled up a chair next to Josie’s bed. “What can I get you?” Tara asked. “Tea? Water?”
“Tea sounds lovely,” Josie admitted.
Tara hurried into the kitchen to make them both mugs of fennel tea. Once there and alone, she let herself cry quietly. Her chest heaved. But by the time she returned, she’d planted a smile on her face and decided to be brave for her sister. She’d decided Josie wasn’t allowed to die.
“Tell me,” Josie said as she sipped her tea, “how is Nantucket?”
“It’s the same,” Tara offered. “It never really changes.”
“Not like this city,” Josie said. “It changes a thousand times every minute.”
“How do you keep up?”
“I stopped trying to,” Josie said. “But sometimes my stepdaughters visit. Sometimes they tell me what’s going on.”
Tara hated that word sometimes. It was difficult to know how often Josie’s stepdaughters really came by. Didn’t they love their stepmother? Didn’t they care that she was wasting away?
Finally, Tara pressed Josie for more information about the cancer.
“I was diagnosed in summer,” Josie explained. “We caught it late. I’d had a few health problems, but nothing major. Truth be told, I was avoiding the doctor like the plague. We tried radiation and chemotherapy, but the cancer spread anyway. They said there’s nothing they can do.”
Tara raised her eyebrows.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Josie ordered. “I’m telling you, I’ve made my peace with it. I’m on my way out.”
“I told you about the doctors in Nantucket,” Tara protested.
“And I’m telling you that I don’t want to hear anything else about them.”
Josie seemed resolute. But Tara was just as stubborn, if not more. It was a face-off. Tara was sure she’d win. She could practically see them three years from now, sharing a bottle of wine on a Nantucket veranda, talking about how Tara had forced Josie to survive.
One of Tara’s hands curled into a fist.
“But you know who I’ve been thinking about?” Josie asked. “Cindy and Bob.”
Tara grimaced. “You didn’t reach out to them, did you?”
Josie shook her head. “No. Not yet. But they never loved me the way they loved you. Josie having cancer is no big thing in their world.”
Tara gaped at her. She wanted to say, Your cancer is world-shattering .
“But if I’m on my way out of here,” Josie continued, “I’d like to leave the world a happier and better place. You know?”
“You’re going to get a second opinion.”
Josie waved her hand. “I want us to reach out to Bob and Cindy together. I want you to mend your relationship with them. I want them to apologize to you.” She swallowed, and it looked as though it was difficult. Her face was etched with pain. “When I go, I want to know you have them again. I want to know that you feel their love again.”
Tara’s thoughts spun wildly. “I haven’t seen Cindy or Bob since 2001. And I don’t care about them.”
Even as she said it, she knew it was a lie. Her heart was heavy with the loss of her parents.
“I want you to come home with me,” Tara continued. “I have plenty of space, more than you have here. I don’t want you to be alone.”
“I have the nurses,” Josie offered. “And like I said, my stepdaughters stop by from time to time.”
Tara tightened her jaw. It wasn’t enough.
“Think about the water and the air and the Nantucket sun,” Tara begged. “It’s your home, Josie. Don’t you think you should be there?”
Josie’s fake smile faltered. She looked down at her skeletal hands.
“I’ll take care of everything,” Tara said.
Josie sighed. “I’ll come, but only if you agree to reach out to Mom and Dad.”
“I’ll think about it,” Tara said. “That’s the best I can do.”
Josie raised her chin and looked at Tara for a long time. Now that Tara was getting used to her, Tara was able to find her sister’s mischievous expression and the glint in her eyes. Despite the cancer and the treatment eating her body, Josie was still right here.
“All right,” Josie said. “But I’m only coming because I want to see one last Nantucket Christmas Festival.”
Tara laughed. “It’s the same as it always was.”
“That’s exactly what I want.”
Josie reached over the bed to shake Tara’s hand. It felt formal until Josie burst out laughing, and Tara joined her.
Why had it taken them so long to get back together?
Why had they wasted so much time?