Reaping Me Softly

“What’s with the face?” Arianne asked, seated at their usual table. “You’re doing that thing where you want to keep smiling but you’re feeling something else. It makes you look distorted.”

“Who’s making a face?” Ben said. “Not me.” He twisted the top off his water bottle and washed away his lie.

“Spit it out, Ben.”

He brought down the bottle like a gavel, making Arianne twitch. The table looked so interesting right about then. “I take it you heard about the ‘pull and puke,’” she said.

“Why do you keep letting Darla bully you?”

“Be-en,” Arianne whined, pronouncing his name as two syllables instead of one. “You know it’s not that simple. I have to live with what I did.”

“But how long will you have to suffer for something that isn’t even your fault? You have to let me help you.”

Arianne shook her head emphatically. “That’s not part of the bargain. She will leave you alone as long as you don’t interfere.” She took his hand in hers. “Ben, please, I don’t want you getting the brunt of what Darla can do. What she’s putting me through is relatively mild. All she wants is to humiliate me. I can take it.”

The breath he released brought with it a slumping of his shoulders. “Fine, you can go back to gushing about Nikolas Clark.” He cringed.

“I know. I know. I’m getting ahead of myself.” Arianne peeled a banana. “But you should have been there.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t,” Ben mumbled into his pizza.

Arianne’s exhale came from a place in the clouds. “He’s a total gentleman. He waited until Nurse Betty started fussing before he returned to class.”

“I would have stayed,” Ben whispered between bites.

“Okay —” she poked his shoulder “—don’t think I don’t hear you. Would it hurt for you to give a little support here? I mean, I finally got to talk to Nikolas Clark. The guy no one, not even the great Darla Masters, can pin down. Granted, I must have sounded like a total crazy person…”

“Ari, don’t you think this crush has gone on long enough?” Ben swirled the contents of the bottle he held. “Maybe he bats for the other team.”

“That’s just cruel! And no one could substantiate your claim.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve checked?”

“Of course, I checked!”

“Can anyone say stalker?”

“There’s nothing illegal about satisfying one’s curiosity. But I’ll admit to a few stalker worthy moments,” she said in exasperation. “Today, I got my wish. I was front and center at the Niko Clark experience. The way he smells —”

“Eww.” Ben gagged. “Seriously? You sniffed him?”

“You don’t know how much this means to me.”

He grimaced then leaned in closer. “Oh, yeah? Remember Joey Tarrintino in second grade? Weren’t you supposed to marry him?”

“That was before he bit me. I thought I had rabies for a while.” Arianne laughed out of embarrassment and nudged Ben away.

He’d laughed with her. She’d sneaked a peek at Darla’s table. Everyone seemed preoccupied with cleaning up a spill.

The bus lurching to a stop popped the memory. Arianne left her window seat and scrambled to get off before the driver closed the door. She hopped onto the pavement and gazed up at the massive building of St. Joseph’s Hospital. The green foliage surrounding the structure softened its hard edges and intimidating size. Still, Arianne had to beat with a stick the instinct to run away. Even with the exciting news she wanted to share with Carrie, standing outside the hospital gave her pause.

Just get on with it, Arianne psyched herself up. After a steadying breath, she took the plunge to the entrance one quick step at a time. The stink of antiseptic coupled with an atmosphere of sickness and suffering twisted her stomach the second she passed through the glass doors.

Visiting Carrie at St. Joseph’s rose to the status of complicated when Arianne’s skill sprouted like a toadstool after a rainstorm. Every time she entered the building, she’d see the living and the dead walking past each other in an eerie dance, not noticing one another. Arianne had never liked hospitals from the get go, but now, seeing all the recently deceased made the experience worse. She couldn’t bring herself to think about Carrie…Arianne pushed away the thought with maximum determination. Carrie would keep going. No matter what, she’d beat the odds. The strength of her younger sister as she fought her battles belittled what Arianne went through within the halls of St. Joseph’s. If her sister could wait patiently for a kidney without losing her firework smile, then by God, Arianne could survive witnessing dead, naked people walking around. Mostly, she kept her eyes on the floor as she scurried along. That way, all she really saw were feet. Nothing gut-wrenching about feet.

“Sorry!” Arianne yelped after she slammed into someone.

“Ari? Is something the matter?” a nurse in Winnie the Pooh scrubs asked, concern bringing her caramel eyebrows together. Arianne took her in. Small wisps of hair curled down the nurse’s nape even though she had her wild tresses in a bun. A clipboard shield and stethoscope stole made up her everyday battle uniform.

“Hey, Mila. Didn’t see you there.” Arianne rubbed her battered nose. “What’s up?”

Mila tsked. “Are you worried about Carrie again?”

“Carrie? Who’d be worried about her?”

“You’re right. It’s hard to worry about that one. So, what’s with staring at the floor all serious like?”

“School stuff, you know?”

“Is it about a boy?”

“No!” The hamster in Arianne’s chest got on its wheel and started running. “Yeah, maybe a little.”

“That’s ma’girl.” Mila ruffled her hair. “I’m sure you’re dying to tell Carrie.”

“Totally.”

Mila pointed at the white bandage. “What’s with the hand?”

Lifting her hand to give the nurse a clearer view, Arianne shrugged. “Chemistry.”

With a knowing gaze, Mila shook her head. “Get on with it then. I’m sure Carrie’s waiting for you.”

Arianne gave the grinning nurse a small wave and hurried along. She ignored the naked old man who’d stepped out of the room two doors down from Carrie’s by pretending to shift her school bag to her left shoulder. Five determined strides later, her attempt at a grand entrance into her sister’s private room failed. The trumpets and drums that announced her arrival ceased.

Carrie sat in bed propped up by three pillows when most patients only got two—a testament to her people smooching skills. She devoured the latest Lisa Kleypas novel their mother had bought for her over the weekend. Her hair—once a vibrant red—hung loosely over too-thin shoulders. Now, it was a dull brown and so brittle that combing it resulted in clumps breaking off. No more hospital hair spa days after that. Carrie took her punches like a champ. She had dusted herself off and said, “Who needed hair spas when I can wear mine all loose and sexy?”

Carrie flipped a page, ignoring the dialysis machine that whirred at her bedside. Arianne sent up a silent prayer of thanks for her sister’s continued life and for whoever invented the machine that prolonged it while they waited with bated breath for a miracle. No matter how much she hated hospitals, Arianne had to admit, St. Joseph’s did a great job with Carrie.

Arianne’s gaze landed on an arrangement of sunflowers, their yellow petals brightening up the space. “Where’s mom?” she asked.

“Hey, sis.” Carrie handed out her signature cheeky grin. “Mom is…”

Out of nowhere, wildflowers seemed to blossom around Carrie. Arianne’s love for her sister drowned out anything the girl in bed had to say. A well-spring of tears bubbling up blurred the scene of her sister as the fairy princess among the flowers. Terminally ill thoughts disappeared from Arianne’s mind.

A book flew by, erasing the wonderful tableau. Arianne ducked reflexively. The romantic missile hit the wall,