Chapter Six Portland, OR 1999 #2
She sat and blinked expectantly at Chrissie. On the TV, Mary Kate and Ashley were running to greet their grandpa in France, but neither girl was paying them much attention.
“My brother’s name was Malcolm,” Chrissie said, and Scarlett felt a ripple of alarm at hearing the name spoken aloud.
In all the weeks she’d been getting chemotherapy and trying to worm her way into Chrissie’s heart, she’d never once heard her speak her brother’s name.
“He was a few years older than me. But I had a sister once—sort of. She was my twin. I ate her.”
That made all of Scarlett’s sleepiness disappear in a flash. She bolted upright and hugged her knees to her chest in the same posture as Chrissie. “You ate her? Why? What did she taste like?”
Chrissie giggled. Scarlett didn’t know why, but that choking gurgle suddenly made her feel like everything in the world was going to be okay.
“I didn’t eat her, eat her. It happened when I was a baby. When we were in my mom’s stomach.”
“Ohhh,” Scarlett said as if that made perfect sense. Which it didn’t. “But, like, how did you do it? Babies don’t even have teeth.”
At that, Chrissie launched into a halting explanation of events, most of which continued to make no sense to Scarlett and sounded totally made up.
Apparently, the eating of a twin involved lots of hard-to-pronounce medical words and sucking things into your body like a sponge.
Which, if you asked her, was both very strange and very, very cool.
“My mom says she didn’t even know she was in there,” Chrissie confessed. “My twin, I mean. Most people don’t. It’s just a thing that happens sometimes, and then you go on with your normal life.”
“How come you know about it then?”
“Because I had all kinds of tests done,” Chrissie said. She drew her stuffed rabbit closer, rubbing the ratty ends of his ears between her forefinger and thumb. “For Malcolm. My parents thought—What I mean is, they hoped—”
Scarlett interrupted with all the wisdom of her seven years of life on a planet that had dealt her an unfair hand.
“They wanted to use your bones, didn’t they? To save him.” She knew all about bone marrow transplants. Several of the kids who’d come through the cancer ward had to get one of those. Sometimes, they got better and she never saw them again.
Other times, they didn’t.
Chrissie nodded and used the rabbit’s ears to wipe away a stray tear. “They said they couldn’t use mine because of how weird all my DNA is. They had to put him on a donor list instead, only no one else matched up.”
For what had to be the first time in Scarlett’s life, she couldn’t find anything to say.
To her, the tale was an ordinary one. Sad, yes, but no worse than any other Friday night.
She sometimes wondered if that was what the doctors meant when they said chemo killed the good parts of your body as well as the bad ones.
Not cells, but something different. Something you could never get back.
“Now you know why I’m glad he’s dead,” Chrissie said, her face half-hidden behind the stuffed rabbit. “My parents can’t blame me for not helping him anymore—for not being able to take away his pain.”
Scarlett felt her lungs growing tight. Her parents didn’t really blame Chrissie for that, did they? She was just a kid.
As if she’d heard Scarlett’s thoughts out loud, a sad, crooked smile touched Chrissie’s lips. “Besides, my parents never would’ve let me have a sleepover at your house before. Everything they did was for Malcolm, so everything I did had to be, too. Only now that he’s gone…”
Scarlett knew what Chrissie was going to say and didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want this sadness to intrude on her first perfect sleepover with her first perfect friend, but there didn’t seem any way to stop her.
“They never loved me the way they loved him,” she said simply. “And now that he’s gone, they don’t have to try anymore.”
Scarlett’s hand shot out and touched Chrissie’s knee, all bones and knobs. “I bet they’re just sad, and that’s why they didn’t want any of my grandma’s tea,” she said. “Grown-ups don’t always do nice things when they’re hurting.”
The look Chrissie gave Scarlett was one she knew she’d never forget. It wasn’t one of those Band-Aid smiles she hated so much, but it wasn’t a frown, either. Chrissie’s face was just a flat, careful knowing.
“Is it okay if we go to sleep now?” Chrissie asked. “I’m pretty tired.”
“Sure,” Scarlett said as she clicked off the television and flipped down all the lights. Grandma worried about bills a lot, so she was always careful not to waste electricity. “But maybe we can finish the movie in the morning? I really am going to Paris someday, so I need to be prepared.”
“I know you are,” Chrissie said without a scrap of disbelief. “You’re going to be rich and famous. I can tell.”
As they settled into their side-by-side sleeping bags, Scarlett took a second to unzip hers and lock it in with Chrissie’s. Chrissie felt cold to the touch, but Scarlett’s temperature always ran hot. Giving her some of her body heat seemed like the least she could do.
“What about you?” Scarlett asked as she snuggled up next to Chrissie, Mr. Bunny wedged comfortably between them. “Are you going to be rich and famous when you grow up, too?”
“No,” Chrissie said and closed her eyes. “I already know what I want to be when I’m an adult.”
“What, a teacher? A doctor? An astronaut? I bet you’d be a great astronaut.”
“None of those things.” Chrissie let out a sleepy yawn and burrowed closer. “All I really want is a chance to be me.”