Chapter 7
In the dim amber glow of the corner lamp, Maya knelt beside the couch, gently smoothing back Eleanor’s wild white hair. The old woman’s eyes fluttered open, milky and unfocused, staring up at the ceiling fan as if watching birds fly through an invisible sky.
“Maya?” Eleanor whispered, her voice cracking with thirst. “Is the war over yet? Did your father come home from the shipyard?”
Maya’s expression softened into an expression of infinite, heartbreaking tenderness. It was a stark contrast to the vicious anger she had directed at Clara earlier that afternoon, reminding Leo of the fiercely protective sister he had grown up with.
“Dad’s resting, Mom,” Maya lied gently, her voice smooth and steady. “And Leo’s home now. Everything is going to be fine.”
Eleanor nodded slowly, her eyelids drooping again as she drifted back into the chemically induced or naturally occurring haze of her condition. Maya stood up, her joints popping audibly in the quiet room, and walked over to the kitchen to fetch a fresh glass of water. Leo followed her, leaning against the doorframe as she filled the glass at the sink.
“You hate her sometimes, don't you?” Leo asked softly, shocking even himself with the bluntness of the question.
Maya stopped moving. Her hand gripped the edge of the laminate counter so tightly her knuckles turned white. She stared down into the sink, watching the tap water swirl down the drain. For a long moment, the only sound was the steady drip of the faucet.
“I don't hate Mom,” Maya said finally, her voice trembling slightly. “And I don't even hate Grandma, most days. What I hate is the slow erasure. I hate watching the person who raised us, who protected us, turn into a stranger who doesn't even remember my name by sunset. I hate waking up every single morning knowing that my entire existence is defined by wiping drool and scrubbing floors that get dirty again five minutes later. It’s a prison sentence, Leo. And nobody gave me a trial.”
Leo stepped across the kitchen and pulled his sister into a tight, awkward embrace. Maya stiffened for a second, unaccustomed to physical comfort, before collapsing against his chest. She buried her face in his gray t-shirt and finally allowed herself to cry—not with the hysterical shouting of the afternoon, but with quiet, racking shudders that tore at Leo’s heart.
May you like
“I’m here now, May,” Leo murmured into her dark hair, holding her as tightly as he could. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ll carry it together.”
Outside, the first pale light of dawn began to bleed over the horizon, painting the suburban rooftops in shades of bruised purple and grey. The thirty-day countdown had officially begun, and they had no idea how they were going to survive it.
