I sat in my wheelchair, balancing a bowl of cereal with milk in my lap. My leg had decided to hurt that day, and I couldn't handle crutches. To my left, lounging on the couch were Gabby and Sadie, watching Liv and Maddie on Disney Channel. I tried to tune out the incessant "Bam whats" that I had to admit I was obsessed with at Gabby's age. But I'm fourteen and the "Bam whats" are exceedingly annoying and the whole Liv and Maddie being twins doesn't feel great to me.
So I sat there eating cereal and petting Shasta, who laid at my feet like she always did in the mornings.
The show ended and Sadie scrolled through our Netflix, no doubt looking for Julie and The Phantoms. She stopped and looked at me. "Did you want to look?"
I held out my hand for the remote and she deposited it in my hand. I scrolled through and clicked on Stranger Things, earning a groan from both Sadie and Gabby. I didn't care.
Just as I turned it on, Mom and Dad walked in, turning off the TV.
I frowned. "Oh come on! I had to watch two episodes of Liv and Maddie and one episode of Austin and Ally for that!" I complained.
"Sorry, sweetie," Mom said, not looking sorry at all. She and Dad sat down. "So we were thinking."
"About what?" Sadie asked skeptically.
"Do you girls want to go to the mall today?" Mom asked. "We didn't get to go back to school shopping since Richelle was in the chemo, but we have the chance now since we're all more or less back to normal. Do you want to go back to school shopping?"
Gabby and Sadie's eyes went wide. "Yes!"
"Awesome," Mom said. "Then get ready."
We spent the entire day at Penn Square Mall, going from shop to shop, accumulating so many bags, they started hanging them off of my wheelchair.
We'd been at the mall for about three hours. I winced as phantom pain began to spiral down my leg. It felt like someone had started slowly shoving a piece of metal into my big toe. I resisted the impulse to cry out like I had for the first month after amputation.
"Hey girl," Mom said, putting her hands on my shoulders. "You good?"
I looked up and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."
"You sure?" Mom asked, her brow furrowing.
I nodded again. "Yeah."
Mom looked skeptical, but she nodded. "Okay. As long as you're not in pain."
That was everyone's question these days. Doctors, nurses, parents, teachers, siblings.
It was all 'how are you doing?' with a forlorn look at my leg or 'does it hurt?' or sometimes the occasional 'what does it feel like to have one leg?' To that one, I'd always reply, 'what does it feel like to have two legs?' I didn't know what it felt like to have one leg. Sometimes it felt eh, sometimes it felt okay.
Sometimes I woke up after a good dream, threw off the covers, looked down and was like, 'oh look, one leg, where'd that come from?' Then I'd see the crutches and the wheelchair beside my bed and I'd remember it all. Sometimes I was like, 'fine, universe, if this is my life, I'll live it' and other times I'd just sit down and have a good cry before everyone got up and started their day.
Why? Because, with one leg and an osteosarcoma survivor poster above my bed, I was allowed to do that and no one would question it. They'd just give me a pitying look, mutter 'it's so sad' and get on with their day.
I liked being invisible before. I liked being unseen and just recording conversations when no one noticed me. I can't do that anymore because it seems like everyone notices me whether I want them to or not. It sucks.
We were in the car, Mom was driving, Dad was talking, Gabby was singing some random song she made up, I was on my phone, and Sadie had music playing through earbuds from her phone.
Then it happened.
A black van swerved out in front of the car. Mom screamed and slammed on the brakes. But it didn't work.
I could feel glass shards biting into my left arm, pain shooting up into my shoulder. My adrenaline kicked in and I fought its control over my body as hard as I could. I could feel it embed itself deeper into my skin as I struggled.
I opened my eyes slowly, glued shut at the impact, and looked around.
The first thing I saw was blood. All over my arm. The glass had cut deep into my arm. I'd probably need stitches. But now wasn't the time to worry about that.
"Gabby!" I rushed to my little sister's side. Her lower leg was buried under a piece of metal, from the door.
My little sister was screaming at the top of her lungs, her breaths ragged.
Holding my arm to my stomach, I yanked the metal away from Gabby's leg, earning a scream as the metal scraped against her skin. More blood. All over her leg. But thankfully, not as deep cut as my arm.
Gabby's breaths were ragged, tears flowing down her cheeks. I pulled her to my chest. "Shh, it'll be okay. I promise."
"S-Sadie," Gabby whispered.
Oh God. My breath caught in my throat as I stared at Sadie. Her body was motionless, her eyes shut. No. I couldn't lose another sister.
Panicking, I left Gabby and struggled with one leg to Sadie, gathering her head in my hands. "Sadie, no, no, no. Sadie."
"Girls?" I heard Mom's voice, a little weak. "Is everyone okay?"
"No!" My voice cracked at the end, tears starting to spill out.
The next part was a blur of emotions. Sirens sounded as ambulances and police showed up. I remember seeing my dad, unconscious, and thinking he was dead. I remember holding Gabby in the ambulance, trying to get her to calm down.
I remember being put in a hospital room while they treated the cut in my arm. It had cut into both layers of my skin, and the fat, which meant it was going to hurt pretty badly for a while. They stitched my entire arm from elbow to wrist, then covered the area with bandages.
"I think you're good," Diana, the nurse taking care of my arm, said.
"Great," I said, sliding off the bed. I slid one crutch under each arm, wincing as I grasped it. Dad was with Gabby while they treated her leg, and Mom was with Sadie, who had a fairly severe concussion.
I walked into Sadie's room, trying my best to be quiet.
I sucked in a breath, seeing my little sister. She was lying in a hospital bed, motionless, beeping monitors above her head. An IV connected her to a bag of liquid on a pole and the left side of her face had bandages running from her left temple down to her cheek.
"Oh Sadie," I whispered. Was this my fault? If I could've gotten to her sooner instead of going to Gabby first maybe... I desperately wanted her to be okay. She had to be okay. I couldn't lose my little sister. I love her.
Silent tears started flowing down my cheeks. Mom got up and I could feel her embrace around me.
"Is it my fault?" I whispered.
"What?" My mother demanded. "What did you say?"
"Is it my fault?" I asked, looking down.
"Oh Richelle," Mom shook her head. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have stopped this."
"But maybe if I had gotten to her quicker-"
"Richelle, stop," Mom said. "It's not your fault, okay? Even if it was, Sadie wouldn't blame you. She knows you wouldn't hurt her on purpose."
"Does she?" my voice cracked.
"Richelle, I know you and your sisters have your differences, but Gabby knows you love her, and so does Sadie," Mom said. "And anyways, she'll recover. She's just sleeping right now. They think she'll come home tomorrow. It'll be okay, Baby Girl. You're not going to lose your sister. I need you to go home with Gabby and Dad and rest, okay?"
"No," I said. "I want to stay here with Sadie. Please, Mom."
My mother shook her head. "No. You're not staying here."
"But Mom-"
"No," Mom said sternly. "It's not happening. Am I clear?"
I dropped my head. "Yes ma'am."
"Good." Mom kissed the top of my head. "I love you. I'll let you know if anything happens."
Sadie
When I woke up, my mother was sitting next to me. She looked frazzled, like she had spent the night in the hospital. She probably had. I knew she and Dad had taken turns spending the night with Richelle in the hospital when pain got out of control and when she lost her leg, but I wasn't sure they would do it for me. I wasn't my sister.
"Hey Baby," Mom said, smiling tiredly at me.
"Hi," I said weakly. My head hurt. I could feel an IV in my left arm. Pain stuck out like a sore thumb on the side of my face.
"I was so worried about you," Mom said, scooting closer to me. "Richelle was in tears when she saw you."
I averted my eyes. "Yeah, right. Half the time Richelle acts like I don't exist."
"Sadie, you've got to cut her some slack," Mom said. "She's fourteen. She's been through chemotherapy and she's lost her leg."
"That's not an excuse to be a bad sister," I muttered.
"Sadie, everyone makes mistakes," Mom said. "But when she does something wrong, don't forget everything she did right."
I scoffed. "What did she do right?"
"When you were little," Mom said. "And you'd play with Eva and Gabby, and you'd fall down. Did Evastop to help? Did Gabby give if a second thought? So who stopped to pick you up?"
Richelle. Richelle had.
"When you'd had a bad day at school, did Eva notice? Did Gabby ask if you were okay? Who dropped everything to listen to you rant?"
Richelle.
"When Eva died, who was hit the hardest?" Mom asked gently. "But who stopped and took the time to help you through it?"
Richelle.
"When you had nightmares, who held you in the middle of the night?" Mom asked. "Who slept with you night after night for weeks?"
Richelle had.
I looked at my lap. Richelle and I used to be really close when we were younger and Eva was still around. As Eva got sicker, and especially when Eva died, she started getting distant.
I remember sitting next to her at the dinner table, with her showing them her First Place in the Science Fair. I was ten, she was twelve. When I looked up, she was looking at me, and only me expectantly.
I had shrugged. "Nice."
"That's all you have to say?" Dad asked.
"Really nice," I had muttered.
"Maybe Richelle could show you how she did her project," Mom had said. "We'd like to see the same from you when you're her age."
"Whatever," I had gotten up, turned on my heel, and walked out.
I had stared at the wall, thoughts whirling through my mind, for a few minutes when the door opened and Richelle walked in. Leaning against my desk, she had just stood there for a moment or two.
"I know," is all she had said. "I know how you feel." She paused before speaking again. "Or maybe I don't."
She walked over to me, sat down next to me and started braiding my hair. I could feel her careful, graceful hands separate each strand and fold them perfectly down my back. My perfect sister.
"I'm not good at anything," I had said.
Richelle had laughed, that light, airy laugh that I loved. The one I had barely heard since Eva died. "You and I both know that's not true, Sades."
"Compared to you, I'm not."
I could feel her going down my back with the braid. I hoped it was a complex braid, so that she wouldn't stop for a while. I loved it when she braided my hair. "Princess, you have no idea how smart you are. Just in a different way from me. You see the world through this view that I can't. I'm stuck with facts. Your mind moves around. It flies from place to place."
"Like an ostrich," I had replied sarcastically.
My sister's comment hadn't been sarcastic. "No. Like a dragon. Sadie, your shelves are filled with wonder. Unicorns, dragons, horses, owls, everything." She laughed a little again. "If it were me, I would put them in a certain order. Taxonomic, probably. I'd even apply Linnaean taxonomy to dragons and unicorns."
I could feel Richelle's hands moving along my hair, feeling each strand through. "But not you," she continued. "You put everything together in an order that only you know." She tied off the end of my braid and faced me. "And you know what? Someday, I want you to teach me."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Richelle had smiled at me. "I'd love to learn from you."
Richelle and I had always understood each other better than we had anyone else, even Eva.
Richelle loved Eva with everything, and they spent day and night together, but they didn't exactly understand each other in the way Richelle and I did.
That conversation was two years ago. We've never had a conversation like it since.