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eyes.
never knew my mother; now I’ll probably never be
one
“Why didn’t you tell me, Daddy?”
“What?” he whispers.
“About Mom—Kitty,
mean.”
swallow painfully.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He kisses my hair. “I
thought
could protect you—I thought
She left us,
Holly-berry. She didn’t deserve you. She didn’t know what
she was missing …”
“She was still my mom,” whisper, Ben warm and
heavy in my arms. “I mean—”
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“You’re right.” Dad strokes my hair from my face,
looks at me. “I’m sorry, was wrong. You had
right to
know. I’ll never keep anything from you again, sweetheart.
promise.” He links his pinkie with mine like we used to
when was little. “No more secrets, okay?” He wipes tear
from my cheek. “From now on, we’ll tell each other
everything. Okay?”
look at him, his eyes so sad, and nod, fresh tears
spilling down my cheeks. squeeze my eyes shut, take
deep breath. “Daddy—”
knock at the back door stops my breath. Rosie
slowly creaks it open, large bag over her shoulder, Andy
behind her.
“Sorry—I—didn’t
mean
to
interrupt,”
she
stammers, her eyes glued nervously to mine. “I just—we
just came to say …” She swallows. “We’ve called
taxi—
we’re leaving.” The words tumble out quickly as she looks
from Dad to me, her eyes filling. “I’m so sorry—I never
meant to—” Her voice cracks as she blinks quickly. “I’m so
sorry.” She moves to leave.
“Wait,” say, my voice hoarse.
She stops, her hand on the doorknob.
“You don’t—you don’t have to go.”
She hesitates, her eyes flicking anxiously from me
to Dad. She shakes her head. “I really should—”
“Maybe it’s for the best, Holly-berry,” Dad says,
stroking my hair. “Just for now, give us some time.”
“No,” say, my voice stronger now. “No, it’s okay.”
can’t believe what I’m doing, what I’m saying. can’t stand
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her, can’t stand the thought of her in my house, my home,
but
but need to know more.
“You should stay.” swallow. “If you don’t mind
have some questions.”
She looks at me, sad recognition in her eyes.
“Of course,” she says gently, sliding her bag to the
floor. “Of course.”
“Maybe we should give you guys some space,”
Megan suggests, lifting Ben gently from my arms and
glancing meaningfully at Andy. “Some time alone together,
to talk …”
“Good idea.” Dad smiles gratefully.
Andy looks at Rosie, who nods absently, her gaze
glued to mine, searching my eyes.
“Yeah.” He nods, plunging his hands in his pockets
and following Megan outside. “Yeah, good idea.”
The door closes behind them.
And then there were three.
“So,” Rosie sighs, sinking slowly into chair. “Where
should begin?”
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Rosie
We talk for hours, the shadows lengthening slowly
across the kitchen as Holly twirls her finger endlessly in
her hair, listening silently.
tell her about Mum: about life before and after her
onset; about the test, the different stages of counseling
went through, what it was like waiting for the result. try
to emphasize the positive—that it’s nowhere near certain
she’s got the gene, that even if she does, she could still
have long and healthy life—that there’s no reason why
she can’t still do everything she’s ever wanted
But in her eyes see it all: my own fear, my own
hopelessness. In the end they’re just words. In the end it’s
her life.
“Okay,” Holly says finally. “Okay, enough for now.”
nod. “It’s lot to take in.”
She nods, her thoughts million miles away.
“How about make us some nice hot soup?” Jack
suggests brightly. “I don’t know about you girls, but I’m
starving!” He turns to Holly. “What d’you think, Holls? I’ll
even rustle up some crunchy croutons for you.” He ruffles
her hair.
“What?” She looks up at him blankly. “Oh, not for
me, thanks.”
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“Are you sure?” Jack frowns. “Or are you just
holding out for my famous fresh-baked rolls to dunk in
it?”
She smiles weakly. “No.”
“Okay then, anything you like. Pasta? Chili?
Burgers? know!” He grins. “Fish and chips!”
Holly smiles faintly.
“Thanks, but I’m really not hungry.” She scrapes her
chair back from the table. “I think might go out on my
bike for while—I could do with some air.”
“Are you sure?” Jack asks anxiously. “Shall come
with you?”
“I can leave,” add quickly. “You don’t have to go—”
“I’m fine, really,” Holly insists gently, her
movements slow, steady. “You guys enjoy your soup.” She
walks out the back door, closing it slowly behind her.
Jack sighs, his head sinking into his hands. He seems
to have aged so much in just day. “My little girl …”
“I really am sorry,” say helplessly.
“It’s not your fault,” Jack tells me, looking up. “And
thank you for talking to her.” He smiles weakly, his eyes
tired. “It can’t have been easy going through all that again,
but think it really helped.”
shake my head. “It’s the least
can do,
after
Anything can do to help, anything …”
“I’m not sure there’s much any of us really can do.”
Jack sighs. “Apart from just being here for her, as long as it
takes.”
nod. That, at least, can do.
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“And you can help me eat some soup!” Jack pushes
himself up from the table. “What flavor do you like?
Tomato? Mushroom? Minestrone?”
“Anything as long as it’s hot.” smile.
“Great. The same for Andy?”
Shit. Andy.
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Holly
ride on autopilot, just concentrating on breathing,
on pedaling, the wind streaming through my hair, Rosie’s
words washing in and out of my mind like the tide.
Chorea
Mood swings
Disabled
Nursing home
Hereditary
Fatal
cycle harder, trying to outpace them, to blot them
out as race through the dark dappled shadows of the
forest. But they’re still there. They always will be.
break out of the trees and there they are, the
endless undulating desert of dunes, beautiful and
terrifying, windswept and barren, and as empty and bleak
as my future.
Maybe this is my punishment for not being
ambitious, for not being academic, for wasting my life on
sports and sculptures and having no real aspirations or
goals. You leave your future empty, and something’s
bound to come along to fill it up
But did have dreams. blink against the wind, the
tears.
had
hopes.
Maybe
not
academically,
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vocationally
but
I’m
engaged—that
must
mean
something?
sail down one dune and struggle up another, lost
in the sea of sand. But what now? What’ll happen to me? To
Josh? To our life together?
To our baby
skid to
stop, throw down my bike and collapse
onto the cool silky sand, hugging my knees as watch the
dying sun drown in the endless ocean.
It’ll be okay,
tell myself, forcing myself to take
deep breaths. It’ll be all right. Josh loves me— he