The Gravity of Us
Page 18

“You didn’t have to come here,” he told me.
“I know. I just thought I should make sure everything was okay.”
“I don’t need the company,” he said as I stepped in closer. The closer I got, the more he tensed up.
“It’s okay if you’re sad, or scared…” I whispered, staring at the little girl’s tiny lungs working so hard to breathe. “You don’t have to be strong at all times,” I said.
“Will my weakness save her?” he snapped.
“No, but—”
“Then I won’t waste my time.”
I shifted around in my shoes. “Have you heard from my sister?”
“No.”
“She’ll be back,” I said, hoping I wasn’t a liar.
“She left me a note that said otherwise.”
“Seriously? That’s…” My words faded away before I could say it was shocking. In a way, it wasn’t. My oldest sister had always been a bit of a runner, like our father. I shifted the conversation. “What’s her name?” I asked, looking down at the tiny girl.
“There’s no point in telling people if she’s going to…” His voice cracked. His hands formed fists, and he shut his eyes. When he reopened them, something about his cold stare shifted. For a split second, he allowed himself to feel as he watched his child trying her best to live. He lowered his head and whispered, “If she’s going to die.”
“She’s still here, Graham,” I promised, nodding her way. “She’s still here, and she’s beautiful.”
“But for how long? I’m just being a realist.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m a hope-ist.”
His hands were clenched so hard, forcing his skin to turn red. “I don’t want you here,” he told me, turning my way. For a moment, I considered how disrespectful I was, staying when I wasn’t welcome.
But then I noticed his shaking.
It was a small tremble in his body as he stared at his daughter, as he stared at the unknown. It was right then that I knew I couldn’t leave him.
I reached out and unwrapped his fists, taking his hand into my hold. I knew the child was fighting a hard battle, and I could tell Graham was also at war. As I held his hand, I noticed a small breath release from between his lips.
He swallowed hard and dropped my hand a few seconds later, but it seemed to be enough to make him stop shaking. “Talon,” he whispered, his voice low and frightened, almost as if he thought telling me her name meant kissing his child with a death wish.
“Talon,” I repeated softly, a small smile spreading across my lips. “Welcome to the world, Talon.”
Then, for the first time in my presence, Talon Russell opened her eyes.
 
 
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucy asked, unaware she’d overstayed her welcome at the hospital. She’d been to the hospital every day for the past two weeks, checking in on Talon, checking in on me. As each day passed, I grew more and more irritated by her persistence in showing up. I didn’t want her there, and it was clear that my stopping at the floral shop in search of Jane had been a bad idea.
The worst part of it all? Lucy never shut up.
She wasn’t one to ever stop talking. It was as if every thought she ever had needed to pass through her lips. What was worse was how each word was filled with positive hippie mumbo jumbo. The only things missing from her speeches were a joint, rock crystals, and a yoga mat.
“I can stay, if you need me to,” she offered once more. Talon was getting her feeding tube taken out and the doctors felt confident she’d be able to start eating on her own, which was a step in the right direction after months of uncertainty.
“Really, Graham. It’s no problem for me to stay a few more hours.”
“No. Go.”
She nodded and finally stood up. “Okay. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Don’t.”
“Graham, you don’t have to do this alone,” she insisted. “I can stay here and help if—”
“Don’t you see?” I snapped. “You’re not wanted. Go bother someone else with your pity.”
Her lips parted, and she took a few steps backward. “I don’t pity you.”
“Then you must pity yourself for not having a life of your own,” I muttered, not making eye contact with her yet still seeing the pained look on her face out of the corner of my eye.
“There are moments when I see you, you know—when I see how hurt you are, when I see your pain and worry, but then you go ahead and cancel it out with your rudeness.”
“Stop acting like you know me,” I told her.
“Stop acting like you’re heartless,” she replied. She went digging into her purse and pulled out a pen and paper then scribbled down her phone number. “Here, take this, in case you need me or you change your mind. I used to be a nanny, and I could give you a hand if you need it.”
“Why don’t you get it? I don’t need anything from you.”
“You think this is about you?” She snickered, shaking her head as she wrapped her fingers around her heart-shaped necklace. “It seems your egotistic ways are getting in the way of you realizing the truth of the matter. I’m not here for you. I hardly know you. The last thing my mother asked from me was to look after my sisters, and seeing as how Lyric is missing in action, I find it important for me to look after her daughter.”
“Talon is not your responsibility,” I argued.
“Maybe not,” she said. “But like it or not, she is my family, so please don’t let your pride and misplaced anger keep you from reaching out if you need me.”
“I won’t need you. I don’t need anyone,” I barked at her, feeling annoyed by her giving personality. How ridiculous it was for her to give so much of herself so freely.
Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, studying me. I hated the way she stared at me. I hated how when our eyes locked, she stared as if she saw a part of my soul that I hadn’t even discovered. “Who hurt you?” she whispered.
“What?”
She stepped in closer to me, unfolded my clenched hand, and placed her number in my grasp. “Who hurt you so bad and made you so cold?”
When she left, my eyes followed her, but she didn’t once look back.