3: 3
3
The line went quiet for a few minutes. I could hear her leaving the card room, walking toward the bathroom.
A door slammed, shutting out the noise.
"I knew you'd refuse the test. You've hated me for playing favorites since you were little. You'd fight your sister for anything, even crack your own head open just to spite us."
"Your father died and you didn't even cry, too busy finding your next meal ticket. A greedy little thing like you doesn't have a shred of family feeling in her."
Through the receiver my mother's voice narrowed to a needle and drove itself straight into my chest.
I held back the tears and asked, "The kidney failure. Is it real or not?"
"Fake! Your sister wanted us to make up. I told her there was no point, but she insisted on trying."
Then she laughed, cold. "Well, now we know. You're nothing but an ungrateful mongrel."
Click.
The call ended.
I let out a breath, and then the hurt swallowed me whole.
Mom, how could I not love you?
Too many disappointments in childhood had crippled the arms I once reached out with.
I pulled back into my shell only to protect myself...
I don't know how long I cried before Barnaby called.
"Your mother's missing and you're actually asleep?"
My voice came out hoarse. "She's at the card room. Her illness was faked..."
Barnaby cut me off, hard.
"Slandering your own dying mother. Clara, you make my blood run cold."
Cold?
I shouted into the phone, "Barnaby, I'm the one who's dying!"
But he hung up before I finished.
Right before the line dropped, I heard him call out, "Mimi, what's wrong..."
Like a form of self-torture, I dragged the slider back on the call recording and listened to that last line over and over.
I finally placed it. That same frantic tone. I'd heard it last year, when I miscarried.
Back then his eyes were red as a rabbit's, and he'd held my hand so carefully.
"Clara, you scared me to death. Let's not have a child. It'll just be the two of us for the rest of our lives, growing old together, never apart."
But now Barnaby didn't want me.
So I didn't want him either.
I printed the divorce papers, signed them, and set them in the most obvious spot in the living room.
Then I went to the hospital for the injection.
The doctor said it was expensive, but it would ease the pain.
Except when it came time to pay, I couldn't remember my payment PIN no matter how hard I tried.
The staff assumed I was short on money and told me kindly that they could wait.
The pity in a stranger's eyes brought Barnaby's coldness back to me, and my voice was already breaking when I called him.
"Barnaby, I forgot the PIN..."
He was silent for two seconds, then let out a mocking little laugh.
"The PIN is the day I proposed to you. How could you possibly forget it?"
"You just couldn't manage your little revenge spending spree, so now you're reminding me of the vows I made, blaming me for not letting you throw your tantrums."
"Don't bother. I've transferred every cent on that card to Mimi."
I was so frantic I could barely stand. "That's my money."
Barnaby's patience was gone.
"It's your wild imagination that broke your mother's heart and made Mimi relapse. I'm just cleaning up your mess!"
The call cut off. I stood there dazed for a second, then turned and saw Barnaby coming out of the pharmacy window.
I rushed over and grabbed him.
"Barnaby, give me back my money!"
He froze, caught off guard, then pried my hand loose.
"Taking your act all the way to the hospital? Stealing your own sister's life-saving money. Have you got any humanity left?"
That was my money!
My life-saving money!
Just because I was dying, my life didn't matter?
Mia, in her hospital gown, said through her tears, "Clary, I'll work hard and pay it all back later. Please, just leave your little sister a way to live."
4: 4
4
In an instant, every eye turned toward me.
"They look so much alike, obviously sisters!"
"The older one's dressed head to toe in designer, that bag alone costs a fortune. What's the harm in helping her own sister?"
They pointed and murmured, as if I were some monster beyond redemption.
My head hurt too much to find a single word of defense.
In the end, it was Barnaby who couldn't stand it, calling security to break up the crowd.
He spoke with heavy sincerity.
"Clara, I'm asking you. Be kind to Mia."
Clara.
Mia.
Only now did I finally hear the difference between the two.
I looked at him, expecting tears, but my eyes had gone dry.
Seeing me stay still, Barnaby added, "Mia and I, there's really nothing between us."
I shook my head and pressed a finger to his chest.
"No. Your heart has moved."
His chest jerked sharply.
"Clara, you're beyond hope!"
Shame flared into anger, and Barnaby took Clara's hand and led her toward the inpatient wing.
The two of them walked close together, closer than I had ever clung to Barnaby.
Suddenly I laughed. "You're right. I really am beyond hope..."
When the doctor learned my condition, he frowned and warned me.
"You can keep taking the painkillers, but the most important thing is you must not fall. Otherwise..."
He didn't finish, but we both understood.
Walking out of the hospital, I found Barnaby waiting outside the front doors.
It was raining, and Barnaby tilted the umbrella toward my head.
"Mia was worried. She insisted on waiting for you."
But the moment Mia stepped out of the car, Barnaby rushed to help her.
The umbrella over my head was gone.
The rain soaked through, like needles stitching back and forth across my scalp.
Barnaby turned and pressed me. "Come on!"
Mia tugged guiltily at Barnaby's sleeve.
"Barnaby, I'm sorry, I booked the couple's seats again out of habit. You go with my sister. I'll just grab something at the noodle shop."
Out of habit.
Couple's seats.
Two words that should have cut me landed on frosted glass instead.
No sound when they struck, no shadow I could see.
Barnaby thought for exactly one second, then said to me, "Take a cab home yourself."
Home?
Where was my home?
"Wait, I don't remember where I live..."
Fear surged up, and on instinct I grabbed hold of both Barnaby and Mia.
Then Mia let out a scream. "Sister, why are you choking me?"
Barnaby shoved me away.
Caught off guard, I slipped and fell, my head striking the edge of the planter.
Blood streaked half my face red.
Cold sweat and rain pressed down on me in wave after wave, and the pain kept me from getting up.
And yet, like when I was a child, I brainwashed myself—
It doesn't hurt.
It doesn't hurt...
Don't cry.
Crying only makes people hate you more...
Barnaby looked down at me coldly.
"The same trick you pulled as a kid, still using it now? You love hurting yourself for attention this much, are you sick in the head?"
Mia said softly, "Barnaby, I'm a little hungry."
Barnaby had been about to leave, but he glanced back at me uneasily, then shoved the umbrella into Mia's hands.
"Let me get her bandaged up first."
Those hands reached toward me, and I shrank back in terror.
"Who are you?"
When he saw the real revulsion in my eyes, Barnaby's disgust froze, and his shout burst out like a sudden clap of thunder.
"Clara, how long are you going to keep this act up?"
Just then my attending physician passed by on his way off shift, saw my head covered in blood, and was so alarmed he dropped his glass teacup and shattered it.
"I told you, you can't fall! Family, go to the ER and get someone, now!"
