sent him a tight smile. Unlike Britney Spears I’ve never been bald, nor have I ever tried to commit suicide. And I’m not bipolar, although quite possibly my mother was—but how would I know since she abandoned me when I was nine?
Still, three months ago I had spent two difficult weeks in an Australian hospital crying my eyes out, and somehow Donny had kept that a secret.
“I’m sorry I jumped down your throat,” I said.
“Robin’s going to be fine.”
“As fine as somebody can be after she nearly dies and her next-door neighbor actually does.”
“You think her husband will be here?”
I didn’t. Today is Wednesday, and since Robin isn’t terminal, cynical me is pretty sure Kris will be at work. Talya’s funeral is probably sometime this afternoon. Her family is Jewish, and by custom the service should take place immediately. How can Kris get away from his office without weeks of preparation?
“I’m hoping he’s somewhere getting ready to attend the funeral,” I said.
“You’re not thinking of going, are you?”
I understood Donny’s subtext. If I were recognized, the service would be all about me.
“I hardly knew her. I’ll stay with Robin.”
We got off the elevator and found the right hallway. I bypassed the nurses’ station and headed right for my sister’s room. At the door I paused to listen for voices, but the room was silent. I pushed the door wider and walked in. Donny leaned against the wall outside, arms folded over his chest.
Robin was alone lying in the bed with her face turned toward the window. Her shoulders were hunched, and I doubted she was asleep.
“Robin?”
She turned, and I saw she’d been crying. “CeCe! I told you not to come.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I crossed the room and perched on the bed beside her. “Since when have I listened to you? I’m just sorry I couldn’t get here sooner.”
She sniffed, then she held out her arms for a hug. “How did you get here at all? Where were you?”
I hugged her gingerly, remembering the shoulder. “Arizona. Out in the middle of God knows where on a ranch. You saved me from having to get on a horse. You’re my hero.”
“You used to ride. You could have been a rodeo queen.”
“It’s been a long time since I made friends with a horse.”
Robin’s hair is a rich chocolaty brown, longish and straight, with bangs brushing her forehead. I touched a strand, swiping it off her cheek. I was thirteen when Robin and I became sisters, and I thought right away that her heart-shaped face needed bangs. She’s worn them ever since, and they highlight eyes as blue as her namesake’s eggs. Today she was pale, but normally she has the clear, rosy complexion of a milkmaid. The first word people use when they describe her is wholesome.
“I’m kind of surprised to find you here,” I said. “Donny checked this morning, but I thought maybe they sent you home after lunch.”
“The hospital has a special concussion program.” She made a face. “I have my own nurse navigator. She wants me to stay another night.”
“Why?”
“Just a precaution. I can’t seem to remember everything that happened when...” Her eyes filled.
“Thank God.”
“My thought, too.”
“So you’ll get out tomorrow?”
“Unless something else turns up.” The tears pooled, and she sniffed. “But I wanted to get out today. I want to be at Talya’s funeral.”
“When is it?”
“In an hour and a half. They’ll do it at the graveside.” Finally the tears spilled onto her cheeks, and she dabbed at them with her fingertips. “Kris said he would go and represent both of us, but just now when I called his office he was still in a meeting. He won’t make it in time.”
I swallowed everything I wanted to say. That took a while.
“He was here most of yesterday morning,” Robin said as I gulped. “But we didn’t talk much. I was in and out for tests. I’m not sure he realizes...”
I had to change the subject. “How’s the other woman... Margaret?”
“Holding her own. They think she’ll pull through.”
“That’s good.”
“It should have been me.”
I stared at her a long moment before I spoke. “Please don’t ever say something like that again, okay? You think you deserved to die more than she did?”
Words spilled out the way tears had a moment before. “I was the one sitting in the passenger seat on the way to the restaurant. When we were ready to leave Talya said I should sit there again, that she was happy in the backseat, but all through dinner I’d been feeling left out. I didn’t want to sit up front and listen to her and Gretchen talking over me. I wanted to sit in the back with Margaret, who was busy texting. I wanted to feel sorry for myself, like a sullen seventh grader.”
“And you feel guilty?”
“It should have been me in that seat. I should have been sitting next to Gretchen. Or maybe if I hadn’t debated seat arrangements with Talya, maybe those few seconds would have made all the difference. Maybe Gretchen wouldn’t have caught the red light on the way out of the parking lot, and we would have been well beyond the spot where that car ran the stop sign.”
“You know how self-defeating that kind of thinking is, don’t you? You didn’t look into the future and trade seats with Talya so you could stay safe. Reality is random. It was chance. And if it wasn’t, then God decided who would live and who wouldn’t.”
“You don’t believe that and neither do I.”
“Not the part about God, no. The part about random? Absolutely.”
Robin didn’t argue, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it. “I can’t even be at the funeral to say goodbye.”
I make decisions quickly. I’ve always had to. “Do you feel well enough to go?”
“I feel as well as I’m going to for a while.”
“Can you get up and wash your face? Comb your hair?”
“I had a shower earlier. I was fine.”
“Then do both. I have a dark skirt and blouse that will probably fit well enough in my suitcase. Or has Kris brought clothes for you to wear home?”
She shook her head, and the movement made her wince. For a moment I reconsidered. Maybe she really did need
