My Sister's Keeper

I think of Julia. "Yeah."

"Sometimes I hate myself," A

"Sometimes," I tell her, "I hate myself, too."

This surprises her. She looks at me, and then at the sky again. "They're up there. The stars. Even when you can't see them."

I put my hands into my pockets. "I used to wish on a star every night."

"For what?"

"Rare baseball cards for my collection. A golden retriever. Young, hot female teachers."

"My dad told me that a bunch of astronomers found a new place where stars are being born. Only it's taken us 2,500 years to see them." She turns to me. "Do you get along with your parents?"

I think about lying to her, but then I shake my head. "I used to think I'd be just like them when I grew up, but I'm not. And the thing is, somewhere along the way, I stopped wanting to be like them, anyway."

The sun washes over her milky skin, lights the line of her throat. "I get it," A

TUESDAY

A little fire is quickly trodden out;

Which, being suffered, rivers can not quench.

—WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, King Henry VI

CAMPBELL

BRIAN FITZGERALD IS MY LOCK. Once the judge realizes that at least one of A

Brian shows up with A

Brian looks at A

"Hey," I say to A

"Yesterday you told me I couldn't walk him."

"Well, today you can."

A

So I turn to Brian again. "Is everything all right?"

At that moment, Sara Fitzgerald comes into the building. She hurries toward the courtroom, and seeing Brian with me, pauses. Then she turns slowly away from her husband and continues inside. Brian Fitzgerald's eyes follow his wife, even after the doors close behind her. "We're fine," he says, an answer not meant for me.

"Mr. Fitzgerald, were there times that you disagreed with your wife about having A

"Yes. The doctors said that it was only cord blood we needed for Kate. They'd be taking part of the umbilicus that usually gets thrown out after giving birth—it wasn't anything that the baby was ever going to miss, and it certainly wasn't going to hurt her." He meets A

"I didn't know if it was such a great idea. This time A

"What did your wife say to make you change your mind?"

"That if we didn't draw blood from A

"How did you feel about that?"

Brian shakes his head, clearly uncomfortable. "You don't know what it's like," he says quietly, "until your child is dying. You find yourself saying things and doing things you don't want to do or say. And you think it's something you have a choice about, but then you get up a little closer to it, and you see you had it all wrong." He looks up at A

"Did you have to use A

"Yes."

"Mr. Fitzgerald, as a certified EMT, would you ever perform a procedure on a patient who didn't present with any physical problems?"

"Of course not."

"Then why did you, as A

"Because," Brian says, "I couldn't let Kate die."

"Were there other points, Mr. Fitzgerald, when you and your wife disagreed over the use of A

"A few years ago, Kate was hospitalized and… losing so much blood nobody thought she'd make it through. I thought maybe it was time to let her go. Sara didn't."

"What happened?"

"The doctors gave her arsenic, and it kicked in, putting Kate into remission for a year."

"Are you saying that there was a treatment which saved Kate, that didn't involve the use of A

Brian shakes his head. "I'm saying… I'm saying I was so sure Kate was going to die. But Sara, she didn't give up on Kate and she came back fighting." He looks over at his wife. "And now, Kate's kidneys are giving out. I don't want to see her suffering. But at the same time, I don't want to make the same mistake twice. I don't want to tell myself it's over, when it doesn't have to be."

Brian has become an emotional avalanche, headed right for the glass house I have been meticulously crafting. I need to reel him in. "Mr. Fitzgerald, did you know your daughter was going to file a lawsuit against you and your wife?"

"No."

"When she did, did you speak to A

"Yes."

"Based on that conversation, Mr. Fitzgerald, what did you do?"

"I moved out of the house with A

"Why?"

"At the time I believed A

"After having moved out with A

The answer we have rehearsed is no; this is the crux of my case. Brian leans forward to reply. "Yes, I do," he says.

"Mr. Fitzgerald, in your opinion …" I begin, and then I realize what he's just done. "Excuse me?"

"I still wish A

At the same time, I'm patently aware of the smallest sound that has escaped from A

It is a curious thing, watching a strong man fall to pieces. "Can you tell me what the right answer is here?" Brian asks, his voice raw. "Because I don't know where to look for it. I know what's right. I know what's fair. But neither of those apply here. I can sit, and I can think about it, and I can tell you what should be and what ought to be. I can even tell you there's got to be a better solution. But it's been thirteen years, Mr. Alexander, and I still haven't found it."

He slowly sinks forward, too big in that tiny space, until his forehead rests on the cool bar of wood that borders the witness stand.