Where We Meet Again, стр. 42
When I have a warm buzz going, I crouch in front of the headstone, uncap the second flask, and pour it out in the snow. I toss the empty container toward my chair. Crossing my arms on the cold marble, I rest my head against them.
“I know this isn’t what you asked for, and I know it makes me selfish to do what I want instead of what you asked. I also know you’d understand. And if you don’t, that’s just mean, because I visit you all the time.”
A warm tear courses down my cheek. I roughly swipe at the wetness before it freezes on my skin.
Closing my eyes, the alcohol carries me back to the last time I saw Ritchie alive.
Fourteen years earlier…
I drove my red Honda around the circular drive at the front of St. Margaret’s Hospice Center. A chill had settled within me in a way I knew it would not leave. Each time I made the drive to this place, I was more frightened than the last.
But this time signaled the end.
I’d never felt more alone than I did pushing through the heavy doors into the reception area for one of the last times.
McKayla sat behind the lone white desk and greeted me with a small, sad smile, her eyes drifting to take in my heavily pregnant belly. I didn’t have it in me to wave. I offered what semblance of a smile I could in return and hiked my tote further up my shoulder as I made my way through the familiar halls to Ritchie’s room.
I knocked twice and pushed it open, calling out, “Hey, Witchy.”
“Hey.” Even that one word was too much, as he immediately started coughing. It took longer than usual for him to catch his breath. My heart froze in my chest with each second that ticked past and he continued to struggle.
It was more real than ever that he was here to die alone, and I was responsible for not being here with him.
“I’m sorry I had to come so early. I start my new job tomorrow, and they need to train me. I couldn’t… I tried to move my start date, but… I need the money.” My voice dropped to a sorrowful tone. “I’d never leave if it were possible, but the baby will be here in less than two months.”
“I get it,” he said slowly.
Even speaking took a lot of energy from him, and I reminded myself not to leave my sentences open for responses.
“Anyway, happy early birthday, big brother. I brought you something.”
He tracked me with his eyes as I crossed the room and sat down on the side of his bed. He was so thin; I hated it. It broke me to see him this way.
My hands trembled as I dug through my tote to find the bottle of dark amber liquid. I pulled it from beneath my extra sweatshirt and showed it to him with a flourish. “Ta-da! I thought we could share, but I’m obviously unable to, so it’s for you.”
Scooting back on the bed so I was sitting beside him, I uncapped the bourbon and offered it. I nudged his frail leg with my own.
“Here.” I held the bottle to his lips. He tipped his head a bit, and I poured some in.
He swallowed noisily and groaned. “That’s good, sis. Where did… you get it?”
I smiled and twisted the cap back on. “Well, it turns out in the town I’m living in the liquor store clerk doesn’t card the young pregnant girl. I suppose he thought if I’m old enough to be pregnant, I should be old enough to drink, but I’m not sure what that says if he thinks I intend to drink it in this state.” I looked down to my round belly.
“You walked right… in and… bought it?” He started coughing again, so I offered him another sip. He winked at me and opened his mouth.
“Yep.”
“Bold.”
“Stupid, but I had to get you something. You only turn twenty-one once.”
His hand shifted beneath the thick blankets I brought him the last time I came. I dug it out and wrapped it in mine. It was cold, even though they kept the heat cranked up. I clasped him tightly.
“When I die…”
“Ritchie, stop.”
“Listen,” he barked, and for a moment, he sounded like the old Ritchie. His voice came out clear and strong, and I wanted to bottle it up and take it with me so I could listen to it wherever I went.
“When I die, visit me. On my birthday… bring that,” he tipped his head towards the bottle in my lap. “And have a drink. Every birthday so… you can relax for one… day.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to go back to Logansville, but when I am, I’ll be there.”
He gently squeezed my hand. “I saved some money… and bought a plot in… Arrow Creek.”
“What? That money was supposed to be for your treatment!” I started trembling. “You have to get that money back. We could do another round right now! I’m going to go get the director and your doctor on the phone.” I tried to get up, but he tugged at my arm.
“They both… know. Look at me, Cam.”
I did. Reluctantly. Knowing what he was about to say hit me like a truck, and it became hard to breathe. Please, God, no. He didn’t.
“I refused treatment–ˮ
“No!” The scream tore out of me like a gunshot and ricocheted around the room. “Why would you do that? Don’t you know I need you?”
“I’m ready to die. I’m not getting… better. It’s been… years.” A cough overcame him, as if the universe was trying to prove his point. Once he caught his breath, he continued. “It’s only a matter of time. You have a new… job. The baby. You can’t