Hudson(120)

So I tell her now. “I could never hate you, Mirabelle. I love you. I want you to be happy. I want you to be proud to be my sister. As proud as I am to be your brother. You’ve often been the only support I’ve had. The only one who’s believed in me. I hate that you’re looking at me now with disappointment.”

Her eyes well, but she smiles. “I’m disappointed, Hudson. I am. But it doesn’t mean I’m not proud to be your sister. I love you, too. Don’t give up on her. More importantly, don’t give up on yourself. I never will.”

She hugs me, and I let her.

For a few minutes, anyway. I’m the one who pushes out of her embrace. It feels too good, and feeling good is not on my agenda. My mind wanders back to the person it never really leaves. “Alayna might still back out of the opening, you know. Even without me there.”

“I know.” Her tone says she’s not concerned. If anyone can convince Alayna otherwise, it’s Mirabelle. “I’m going to think optimistically. And I’m going to be optimistic about the two of you too. I don’t think I’ll let her know that I know what happened. She could be really embarrassed about this. Maybe she’ll feel more comfortable if she isn’t worried about what I think about it all.”

“That’s insightful.” I hadn’t even considered she might be humiliated. But of course she is. She’d been duped by an *. “I’ll support however you want to play it.”

I cringe at my choice of words. “I’ll support whatever you say, I mean.”

She catches my correction. With a sad smile, she reaches up to tousle my hair. “You’re a good guy, Hudson. You did a really shitty thing, but you’re still a really good guy.” A tear slips down her cheek. She wipes at it with zest. “God, I have to get out of here. I’m too hormonal for this crap.”

“You’re fine.” I stand though and help her up beside me. Then I remember, “But was there another reason you came by?”

“Oh yeah. There was. There is. I’m telling you—hormone-brain is crazy.” She shifts her weight onto one leg and bites at her lip. “Anyway, I hate to bring this up after all that you’re going through, but there’s something important, and I need your help.”

I hate that she’s nervous about asking. Doesn’t she know I’d do almost anything for her? “Of course. What is it?”

“It’s Mom. She’s in trouble.”

Now I understand her hesitancy. “She’s been in trouble for a long time.” Longer than any of us.

Mirabelle nods. “And we haven’t been there for her. It’s time that we are.”

“Are you staging another intervention?” The look on her face answers the question for me. “Ah, you are.”

“You think it’s stupid?”

I’m surprised we’ve never discussed this before. All these years we’ve just let Sophia live as though her drinking wasn’t a big deal. As though it was normal. Because we’d never known her any other way, it actually was normal. It was the normal we knew, anyway.

But we’d grown up. Somewhere along the way, we realized that her behavior wasn’t healthy or sane. And still we’d done nothing.

Mirabelle’s right when she says it’s time we did something. “It’s not at all stupid,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”

Hope shines in her eyes. “Really, you think so?”

“I do.

“Thank you. That’s really a relief.” It shows. Her shoulders relax, and she stops nipping at her bottom lip.

Once again, Mirabelle moves me. I draw her into a hug. “I don’t know how you ended up surrounded by such broken and battered souls. We don’t deserve you. But I honestly believe none of us would have made it as far as we have if it hadn’t been for you holding us together. You’re our glue. You’re my glue.”

Jesus, when did I develop such diarrhea of the mouth?

Mirabelle nudges me with her elbow. “That was awfully poetic, Hudson. I’d say I didn’t know you had it in you, but that would be a lie. There’s hope for you yet.”

I’m not sure that’s true. But wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were?

***

That night, the weight of it all hits me. I’m in the loft, sitting on the couch in the dark, when pain rips through my chest like a bulldozer running me down. There isn’t a part of me that doesn’t ache—my hands, my feet. My head throbs. Blood rushes in my ears. My heart pounds as if it’s going to burst from my chest. It bends me over, stealing my breath. I gasp for air in huge gulps that are half-sobs.

It’s a death. The ending of what was, and the painful rebirth that follows. I wrap my arms around myself, my fingernails digging into my ribcage, clutching on as if I can hold to where I was. I will the world to stop spinning around me. I break out in a sweat. I cry the only name that gives me comfort. Her name. Over and over.

I don’t want to go through this. I don’t want to be without her. I don’t want to miss her like I do, longing for her taste, her touch, her sounds. I don’t want to be reborn in this new world, a world that means nothing in her absence.

I don’t want to be in this life without her.

***

The next morning, I’m met with a text on my phone. I hold my breath, hoping it’s from Alayna. It’s not, but the message motivates me to get out of bed anyway. It’s from Norma. All the papers are in place. I’ll have them waiting on your desk when you get in.