Merrick couldn’t face her. He hung his head lower, enough so she couldn’t see the pathetic sign of weakness welling in his eyes.
“I’m not allowed to give you medical details or advice, but I can tell you the difference between a true attempted suicide and a cry for help. This is a chance you might not get again. Next time might end differently. Anyway, let me know if you need anything.” Jana retreated then, seeming to realize she had, one, already said this and, two, said too much.
Merrick was thankful for her absence and annoyed at the same time. Though he wasn’t in the mood to deal with wacky woman hormones, he also didn’t want to spend one more moment watching the clock on the wall tick, tick, tick. Another second. Another minute. Another hour. A cry for help? A chance we might not get again? Where was his mom? Why wasn’t she around to hear this? How long did it take a person to get it together and come inside?
It had been three hours since he’d arrived. And fifty-two minutes. Seven, eight, nine . . .
She was in the gift shop.
Or she was getting food. The cafeteria was closed and she’d gone to bring something back. His dad would never approve, but Merrick would give anything for Taco Bell.
It didn’t take this long to get Taco Bell.
Maybe she was filling out paperwork.
She could do that up here.
He set his cocoa on the chair beside him, pulled his phone from his pocket. No missed calls. Zero unread texts. The signal in the hospital was probably bad. He powered the device off and then back on, waited a full minute for it to register any new voice mails. Something.
But there was nothing.
Where are you, Mom?
The text said delivered. He waited for it to inform him it had been read. Stared at the screen, as if he were some kind of superhero who could force her to answer with his mind.
“You can go in now.”
Merrick swiped at his eyes with the heel of his palm before meeting the gaze of his father across the hall.
Hiroshi stood with one foot still inside Amaya’s room, looking a little disheveled but still his regular self. The man’s expression gave nothing away as he nodded, then headed down the opposite hall before Merrick could even ask him if he’d heard from Mom.
Amaya’s door was cracked when Merrick reached it. One breath. Two. He entered. The heavy door announced his presence, but his sister didn’t stir.
The IV drip, drip, dripped.
The vitals monitor beep, beep, beeped.
He inched closer and finally resolved to sit in a reclining chair at her bedside. An artificial Charlie Brown Christmas tree stood by the window, its lights pale in comparison to those of the city beyond. They probably had these in all the rooms. Merrick angled himself so the tree was nowhere within his line of vision. He didn’t need false cheer rubbed in his face. Not now.
“Worst brother ever, huh?” Merrick’s hand migrated to Amaya’s knee. He shook it awkwardly. “Guess this means you get the top bunk to infinity and beyond.”
The odd joke came out of past memories of watching Toy Story on Oba-Chan’s old VHS player. Memories that refused to die. They hadn’t shared a room in years. Not since their father lived on base back in his Navy days. Merrick was twelve. Amaya, four. Their small house only had three rooms. One for their parents. One for Hiroshi’s office. And one for the kids. They were young enough that privacy wasn’t a thing, and it had made no difference that she was a girl and Merrick was a boy. But he was still older and that meant he got the top bunk.
Amaya used to have the biggest meltdowns over it until one night when Mom finally gave in.
Merrick’s sister had fallen off the ladder and broken her arm when she woke up to go to the bathroom that night.
Their mom never gave in to Amaya’s tantrums after that.
“I should have asked you why you always wore sweaters and stuff.” He ran a hand over his face and leaned back. “I should have paid attention.”
“You did ask. I told you I was cold. Can’t blame you for believing me.”
He shot forward and grabbed her hand. His sister was only ten, but she was the most honest person he knew. A trait he hoped she would carry as she grew older.
“Hey, watch it!” Amaya pulled her icy fingers away. “I don’t want you to accidentally pull out my IV.” His sister smoothed the tape on her hand. “Then they’d have to stick me again and it’d be a whole thing. No thanks.”
“You don’t seem to have a problem with sharp objects.” He shifted his gaze to her scraped arms. Pink marks on freckled skin.
They shared a laugh at the dark retort. Amaya rubbed her IV tube between her thumb and forefinger. “It was stupid, okay? I won’t do it again.”
Merrick arched one eyebrow. “You won’t cut again or you won’t cut that deep again?”
She squirmed. Her next words would be only half true. “Both, all right? It was an accident.”
“Why, Maya? What could possibly be worth losing your life over? Is it something at school? Are you being bullied?” It had happened before and he’d shut it down quickly.
All she has to do is say the word and I’ll take care of it.
“No.” Her answer was quick. Too quick.
Merrick opened his mouth to refute her, but she rushed on, her words one long, jumbled explanation.
“I just . . . I wanted to see what it would feel like and some of the other kids do it, you know, the eighth graders and stuff, and they said I’d be cool if I did it too.” She fiddled with the edge of the bandage on her arm.
He let a low whistle sail through his lips. There had to be more. Her admission was incomplete, but he’d go with it. For now. “Of course popularity and a few eighth graders are worth, um, I don’t know, dying.” Sarcasm dripped from every word, but this was how they were. Bantering back and forth. Never saying anything real.
“I was tired. I couldn’t think straight. It was dark in my room. Usually I only slice deep enough to—” She stopped herself, obviously realizing she’d said too much.
A small knock on the door interrupted them. Merrick bolted from his chair. Finally. He didn’t even have to check his phone to know it was Mom. She’d make everything okay again. She’d—
The door opened.
His jaw went slack, then clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.
“Son. Amaya.” His father stepped awkwardly into the room. He filled the space in a way that made it feel claustrophobic. Especially with the aftershave he wore. The scent burned.
But nothing like Mom’s absence.
Merrick’s hands automatically turned into fists at his sides.
“Your mom’s gone.” No sugarcoating. No prelude. Hiroshi got right to the point. “Harold called and let me know. When she got out of the car, he took Nikki home. Then he returned. He wanted to wait in case we had need of him. Your mom still hadn’t gone inside. She sat there, on a bench, in the rain. He thought she might be trying to process things. But when she eventually got into a cab, he followed her to the bus station.”
“What’d you say to her now?” Merrick started toward him, but Amaya reached out and caught the corner of his jacket between her fingers.
“Your mother has been looking for a way out for a long time, Son.” Hiroshi turned his gaze to Amaya. “She’s finally found her chance.”
Amaya’s lower lip quivered, but she didn’t cry. She released Merrick’s jacket, scrunched up her bedsheets with her fists, and stared at the wall.