Chapter 1 #2
Every day, Drew and I would mention one positive thing that had happened in our time with Cara.
The thing about hospitals is that they’re breeding grounds for fear.
If you don’t constantly remind yourself about the good, the bad will seep in and take over.
Because when one of your family members gets cancer, you all get cancer.
It might not be the same kind, but it will still eat at you until there’s nothing left inside.
The tradition started when Cara was diagnosed the first time, back when we were freshmen in high school.
It hadn’t really hit me that my sister was sick, that I could actually lose her, until she had a diagnostic treatment and stayed in the hospital while her doctors identified the location, extent, and stage of her cancer.
Our mom brought Drew and me in to see her, and all around us were children in various stages of decline, some further along than others.
That was the first time I felt the fear. It buried its nails in my chest, and said, “See those kids? They’re actually dying.” And that made me wonder—if my sister was here, did that make her one of those kids too?
“What’s your positive?” I asked Drew when we reached his old Honda Civic on the far side of the hospital parking lot. He was fiddling with his keys, and even though I knew my door was still locked, I yanked on the handle.
“The caramel pudding cup,” he said. The locks popped up with a click when he found the right key. “That shit was delicious.”
“A pudding cup?” I repeated as we both climbed into the car. “That’s your positive?”
“It’s that or the fact that the Wi-Fi was in an obliging mood today.”
“Are you being serious?” I asked as I stared at him. “I honestly can’t tell right now.”
“What does that mean?” he said. “Pudding cups are serious business.”
I let go of the seat belt strap I was struggling to untangle and blinked at him. Up until today, our positives had always been meaningful, something to keep us going. If pudding became the only redeeming part of our day, then we were in trouble.
Drew started laughing, and I smacked him on the shoulder. “Not funny,” I grumbled.
“I was only teasing, Stella. Lighten up.”
“Sorry,” I said, reaching for my seat belt a second time. “I only narrowly avoided making Cara cry today.”
“You know why she’s upset, right?” Drew asked me then. “She thinks she’s never going to go to one of their concerts.”
“Why does she have to be all negative like that?”
I didn’t expect Cara to be sunshine and roses all the time.
In fact, she deserved the right to be angry with God or the universe or whoever had dealt her the shittiest hand of all.
But I hated when she spoke in absolutes—I’m never getting out of here, I’m never going to college, I’m never going to see the Heartbreakers perform—like her death was already a done deal.
It made me feel like I had no control over my life, like everything really was left up to fate.
“No, not like that,” Drew said. “Apparently there’s a rumor going around that the Heartbreakers are breaking up. Some kind of rift between the members.”
“Oh! Well, no surprise there,” I said, but I silently hoped the rumors weren’t true. Shocker, considering I wasn’t much of a fan, but I wanted to prove Cara wrong. She would see the Heartbreakers perform because she was going to get better.
Placing his hand on my headrest, Drew craned his neck to see if there was anyone behind us before whipping out of the parking spot.
Visiting hours were officially over, so the lot was relatively empty.
When we reached the exit, Drew swung the car into the left-turn lane and flicked on his blinker.
Visiting Cara always took its toll, so neither of us spoke as we waited for a gap in traffic.
I remembered that Drew had yet to answer my question, and I broke the silence. “So what is it then?” I asked.
“What’s what?”
“Your positive.”
“Oh, right.” There was a break in traffic, so Drew shot out onto the road. “I came up with an idea for Cara’s birthday present.”
“Really? What is it?”
Not only was next Friday the Fourth of July, but it was also Cara’s eighteenth birthday.
It was mine and Drew’s as well; we were triplets.
Every year, we had a competition to see who could get each other the best present, and Cara normally out-gifted us.
This year, Drew and I decided to team up and beat her, but so far, we had yet to come up with anything worthy of winning.
“Okay, you know how you’ve been going on and on about that photographer’s art gallery?” Drew asked, glancing at me. “The one that’s opening in Chicago?”
“You mean Bianca Bridge?” I edged forward in my seat. I had no clue what Cara’s birthday gift had to do with my all-time favorite photographer, but wherever Drew was going with this, I had a feeling it would be good.
Bianca was my inspiration and everything I wanted to be in life.
As one of the most famous photojournalists of recent times, she was known for eye-opening street photography featuring people from all walks of life.
I had painted a quote from her on my bedroom wall, and all my best pictures were tacked up around it: “The world moves fast, changing around us with each new day. Photography is a gift that can keep us in a moment forever, blissfully eternal.”
Whenever someone asked me why I enjoyed photography so much, I would recite Bianca’s quote as if it were my own personal mantra. I was enthralled with the idea that, with one click of a button, I could somehow beat time.
“Yeah, her,” Drew said as he sped up to make a yellow light. “It just so happens that her gallery is only a few blocks away.”
“A few blocks away from what?” Drew was purposely dragging out his explanation to build suspense, which was nothing short of annoying. “Come on!” I was bouncing up and down in my seat. “Tell me!”
“No patience whatsoever.” He shook his head, but there was a glimpse of a smile on his face. “It’s a few blocks from a radio station where the Heartbreakers will be doing an autograph signing this weekend.”
“Are you for real?”
Drew grinned. “Well, Cara was really disappointed about not being able to go to the concert, and that got me thinking. There has to be something else Heartbreakers-related that would make her happy. So I googled a list of their public events. We could drive down and get one of their CDs signed or something.”
“And?”
“And visit your art thing.”
“Yes!” I exclaimed and pumped my fist in the air. “Cara won’t stand a chance of beating us this year.”
“I know,” he said and brushed off his shoulder. “No need to thank me.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled inwardly. Something inside my chest shifted.
When Cara’s cancer came back again, I knew it was different than the first two times. The knot in my gut told me that if this treatment didn’t work, Cara would never get better. It was a heavy feeling to carry around, almost as if a hundred weights had been tied to my heart.
Even now, I knew there was nothing I could do that would make Cara’s cancer disappear.
But for the first time since the recurrence, I felt like those weights were slowly being cut loose.
It was silly, because what would an autographed CD do?
But if it could lift Cara’s spirits, then maybe she stood a chance.
“Do you think Mom and Dad will let us go?” If they didn’t, my little shot of hope would dissolve and bring me lower than before.
Drew shrugged. “We’ll be together,” he said, “so I don’t see why not.”
“Okay, good,” I said, nodding at his answer. “Are we really doing this? Road trip to Chicago?”
“Yeah,” Drew said. “Road trip to Chicago.”