Paper Thin

After pumping my gas and buying a large vanilla coffee along with a honey bun, I climbed into my car to get situated for the long stretch of driving. My cell rang before I could even close the door. It was an unknown number calling. My heart leapt to my throat as I stared at the screen. Worries tumbled through my mind. Suddenly, I was petrified something horrible had happened to Emma and it was the hospital calling to tell me. Dawson had given them my number for emergencies, I was sure. The numbers burned into my memory as I stared at them. No. This was a cell number. I could tell from the first three numbers. There was only one person I knew who would be calling me from a Parish Cove cell this early in the morning.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to calm my rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry it took me so long to respond back,” Dawson drawled in my ear. He sounded as tired as I was, his words stretching out in between yawns. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Me either.” I closed the door to my car, and then opened my honey bun. “Any news? How did she do last night?”

“No news yet.” The same disappointment I felt hung in his words. “They did tell me she’s breathing on her own. Said that was a good sign.”

“Good.” If she was breathing on her own, maybe they would wake her soon, and things would be all right.

“You headed here yet?”

“I’m in my car now. Just filled up.” I tore off a small bite of my honey bun and popped it into my mouth. My stomach quickly let me know food was not something it pla

“Okay. Drive carefully. I’ll try to see if I can get us some answers before you get here.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

“Yeah.” He hung up, and so did I.

I set my cell in the cup holder, and cranked the engine on my car. A depressing song about holding on played through the speakers. I reached out and changed the station to something a little more upbeat. I needed upbeat. Staying positive was something my sister was always so good at, and it was exactly what I needed to do right now. I couldn’t let my negative thoughts and far-stretched fears get the best of me. I refused to.

After shifting into drive, I pulled away from the station, praying by the time I got to Emma she would be awake and alert.

Everything will be fine, I told myself.

She had to make it through this, because I couldn’t imagine life without her. My throat constricted, and my fingers gripped my steering wheel a little tighter. There was so much she was supposed to do before she left this Earth. She was supposed to marry Dawson. Kids. Emma still needed to have kids. She needed to make me a crazy aunt.

My knuckles turned white as my grip on the wheel tightened even more. The tips of my fingers tingled, and I knew if I let go to flex them they would hurt. More worries crashed around in my mind. What if she made it through this, but she wasn’t the same? What if she stayed a vegetable from head trauma or something? My vision blurred from pooling tears, and I debated pulling over so I could gather myself.

An old Sarah Mclachlan song came on the radio, reminding me of when Emma and I were little. My mind shifted to old memories wrapped up in the song, and I felt myself relax enough to continue.

We had made up dance moves to go along with the song for our mom. I tried to remember why we’d done it, but couldn’t. Maybe there wasn’t a real reason. My mind uprooted more slivers of the memory. As I continued down the long stretch of highway, I let them take over my mind for a while. It was summer. I couldn’t have been older than five, which would have put Emma around eight or nine. If I thought hard enough, I could still hear Emma whispering in my ear she wanted to do something special for Mom. I had agreed, because back then, Emma was who I looked up to. All I wanted to do was be near her, and if making up a dance to one of Mom’s favorite songs was a way to do it, then I was there. No questions asked.

We had spent the majority of the day in Emma’s room—a place I was rarely allowed without causing a fight—listening to the song on repeat, while making up moves to go with each sentence. By the time di

“Char, hit it,” Emma had yelled to me. I’d pressed the button and started the song I had learned every word to throughout the day. Setting the radio down, I joined Emma in the center of the living room. I could still remember seeing Mom’s lips quirked into a small smile as she watched. We danced our little hearts out during the length of the song, nailing every move Emma had created as we were supposed to. At the end of the song, my heart was pumping fast, but I remember feeling a sense of pride. Emma had looked at me with a wide smile and said, “Good job, Char,” intensifying it.

Until I looked at our mom, and realized she was crying.

We were supposed to make her happy. The song was her favorite, and the dancing was supposed to make it ten times better for her. Instead, we had made her cry. I didn’t understand until I saw her hand pull away from her lips, revealing the smile hiding behind it. I remembered racing Emma to her arms. I remembered Mom telling us she loved our dance, that we were so pretty and graceful.

I wiped my nose on the back of my hand as I changed into the other lane, and set my cruise control at seventy. While I knew I would never have any more memories like that, because there was no way in hell I was dancing to In The Arms Of The Angel again anytime soon, regardless if it was Emma’s idea or not, I still wanted to make happy memories to add to the pile I already had with my sister and mom.

Things had to be okay.

I prayed harder than I never had in my life the remainder of my drive, hoping there was someone listening to my silent pleas, because I needed a miracle. Desperately.

I DROVE STRAIGHT TO the hospital. After finding a parking space, I cut the engine on my car and sat. My heart had already started beating out of my chest, and I hadn’t even stepped inside.

I was here, even though I suddenly didn’t want to be. Fear Emma wouldn’t be okay plummeted me. I was terrified the sight of her lying in a bed would gut me.

Swallowing hard, I reached for my cell, taking another minute out here to send Sadie a text and let her know I made it seemed important. I could do that without feeling guilt for not rushing inside. Couldn’t I?

I wasn’t sure. Guilt was working its way into my mind. Emma wouldn’t have bothered to text anyone. She would have squealed into a parking space and raced inside, frantic until she found me. Why couldn’t I react more like I knew she would? Why did I always have to freeze?

I made it. ~ Charlotte

Sadie responded immediately. I knew she would have her cell in her hand during class, waiting to hear from me.

How is she?

Shame filled me, clawing at my insides, making my heart pound even harder.

I’m still in the parking lot. I haven’t been able to force myself inside yet. ~ Charlotte

Telling her this only made me feel worse. I was a horrible sister.

It will be okay. You need to go inside. Things could have gotten better.

Or they could have gotten worse, I thought.