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Faint suggestions of petrichor sank into the narrow back alleyways where Eve had grown up—the same back alleyways she had left to fulfill that deep yearning for independence. She supposed she must've not been meant for it, as once again, she found herself biking down these same alleyways, just as she had for so many years. Her tires rolled against the asphalt as rain began to patter down from the sky, filling the cracks that stretch along the road. The warm hues of violet and deep oranges of a sunrise that spill across the sky became covered by the grays of growing storm clouds.
Despite the rain, humidity and the warmth of summer clung to her skin as she blinked away water from her eyes. Eve tried to focus on the soft sound of her bike rolling against the ground as she biked onto the street, merging with the loud cars around her. She tried to focus on the array of warm, cold, and colorful lights emitting from the towering buildings around her, the feeling of the rain on her skin as dark curls became increasingly wet and frizzy, stringing together and sticking to her face.
Still, she can’t.
Even as the rain turned from a drizzle to an intense downpour, the only thing she could focus on was the path she was taking, and what lay at the end of it.
The rain had then become so intense that the usually bustling city began to die down, cars growing scarce, and those who got caught in the downpour held up in the nearest building. The warmth of summer no longer protected Eve from the rain's chill. She could feel how it seemed through her clothes, sinking past her skin and into her bones. Hair soaked and messy, clothes completely drenched, the rain sticking to every part of her.
As Eve walked through the parking lot of the large, modern building, she could feel the mucus dripping from her nose, and her teether nearly chattering from the cold. However, the closer she got to the large commercial doors, the less she felt the rain that clung to every inch of her skin, instead, she could feel a bubble forming in the center of her throat, the familiar feeling of fear taking over her.
Eve walks over to the front desk, sleek and white, a few small stacks of papers are scattered across it, and three large computer screens sit at equal distances across the desk. Eve approaches the center computer, noticing the bright blue hair of the woman who sits behind the screen.
“Hello, what can I help you with today” The young woman looks up at Eve from where she sits, blue hair shining in the bright fluorescent lights above her. Eve pushes back the growing bubble in her throat, trying not to choke on her words.
“I’m-” Eve's words get caught in her throat, “I’m here to visit a patient”, she gets out in a small voice. The woman behind the desk looks away from Eve, her face now hidden behind a screen, as she types at the computer.
“Name?” The woman asks, still looking a the computer, blue light reflecting into her black-framed glasses.
“Zoe Callahan” Eve quietly responds, fidgeting with the cuff of her rain-soaked sleeve, still shivering from the cold water, now even colder from the blasting AC through the large building. After a bit more typing, the woman finally meets Eve’s eyes again, but before speaking she pauses a moment. Eve thinks she must have noticed the state in which the woman had entered the building.
Dark, now uncontrollably frizzy, curls, messily and clinging to olive skin, paled from the cold and growing stress she felt in her chest. Her clothes were already not the best quality, but now thoroughly soaked from the rain, she knew she must’ve made quite an appearance to onlookers. Suddenly self-conscious of the way she looked to others, Eve attempted to straighten herself out.
Finger combed her hair and straightened out her rain-wrinkled clothes. But as her cold clumsy hands began to stumble over herself in an attempt to look more presentable, she noticed that rather than looking at Eve’s wet frizzy hair, or wrinkled clothes, the woman’s eyes hadn't gazed over Eve’s clothes or hair, but stayed planted on her face an unidentifiable, though solemn looks behind her eyes, her lips in a slight frown.
Before Eve had the chance to process this thought, the quick moment had passed, and the woman spoke again, gaze once again returning to the blue screen in front of her.
“Alright, you can head up to room 226 now. The nurses should be running their regular morning check-ups right now.” Forgetting the dismal look she had gotten from the nurse, Eve immediately remembered why she was there. Not that she had forgotten, but the weight of it returned to its place in her chest, the pain making her feel as though it was pulling her to the ground, bubbles reforming in her throat.
“Okay, thank you”
As the soft soles of her shoes tapped down the hallways, fluorescent lights shower over white and blue walls, tall commercial doors, and color-coded room numbers. Eve turns through the familiar corners until she reaches a long hallway, white walls painted with colorful animals, shapes, and symbols scattered from floor to ceiling.
Pediatric Facility, Rooms 205-280
Eve quietly walks past the many doors that line the wide hallways, passing muffled sounds of medical jargon, cheerful distractions, and distraught. Eventually, she pauses in front of one of the tall doors.
Room 226
Cartoon monkeys dance around the gray numbers. Dark circular eyes glare into Eve’s sockets, piercing through the back of her skull. The bubbles in her throat have become thicker as the taste of bile climbs to her tongue. Tearing her gaze away from the silently mocking cartoons, Eve attempts to look through the slim window, into the room just beyond the thick glass, but the angle blocks most of the room from view.
With a deep inhale, Eve tried her best to swallow the bubbles, sure that if she uttered a word they would all spill out, fill the room, and consume her whole. Finally, with a shaking exhale Eve feels her hand push against the chilled metal of the door. Sunlight begins to peek out from behind the lessening storm clouds, rain still fluttering down, but less intensely than when Eve had arrived Taking a few steps forward, the door quietly shuts behind her, swinging back and forth a few times before settling.
A medical bed sits to the left of Eve, layers of thin, blue, hospital-provided blankets spill over the edges. Two thin pillows covered by scratchy cheap pillowcases stacked up to give some support to the head of the small girl who lays in the bed, nearly swallowed by blankets if not for her thin arms sticking out of either side. Skin greyed by sickness, tubes, and wires wrapped around the small girl, nearly covering her more than the blankets. A nebulizer is strapped over the girl’s sunken cheeks, face now so thin and frail the plastic nearly pokes her in the eyes. A steady beep fills the room, green lines rising and falling on a black screen.
Green lines indicate that, at least for right now. At least for this moment, Eve could feel her warmth again.
A sudden weight on her shoulder rips Eve from her thoughts. Turning towards the source Eve is met by a tall nurse. He looked around her age, possibly older, plain blue scrubs hung from tall lanky limbs, his face hidden by a medical mask. She hadn’t noticed his presence, eyes only focused on the small girl in the bed.
“Morning checkups went well, her state does seem to have worsened since her last checkup, however…” He began to trail off. Too many days Eve had spent at this hospital to have any news, bad or not, be watered down for her sake. Too many hours Eve had spent by that girl’s bedside, praying to a god she didn’t believe could have one more day as silent tears ran down her chin.
“However?” Eve's demand, stress, and irritation leaking through her tone. She could feel chills of fear begin to crawl up her spine, suddenly more aware of the pit in her stomach. The nurse turned to look at Zoe, her breathing shallow, head covered by a warm winter hat, despite it being the middle of summer.
“She doesn’t seem to be getting better” he finally said, voice quiet and compassionate. She wasn’t sure how he could do it, care for so many kids every day, nearly lose so many, having to watch them fade to incurable disease. Go through day after day full of grief and pain and still found something in him other than falling apart from hopelessness.
Eve supposed that was the part that baffled her. How could someone who saw Zoe every day, more than even Eve got to see her now, and not be completely destroyed when seeing her? How could he not be filled with the same growing void that grew inside Eve? How could he speak without feeling thick sludge pour out of his throat, the taste of bile crawling over his tongue?
How could it just be Eve?
Was she the only one who felt as though the very ground beneath her had turned to liquid, swallowing her whole being as she sank deeper and deeper into misery and fear? Fear of what her days would turn to. Fear of what it would be like waking up every morning knowing that no matter where she looked, no matter how far she traveled, Zoe wouldn't be there.
The idea that one day, no matter how hard Eve fought and pushed and cried, Zoe would never get to experience the warmth of the sun against her skin again. Never get to share her simple but surprisingly snarky jokes again, never get to watch a Charlie Brown Thanksgiving again, or eat strawberry ice cream. Did this nurse not realize how much would be ripped from Zoe, stripping her of her right to live, to breathe, to enjoy, to discover, and to change?
Eve felt all of these thoughts rush through her head so fast and so intense she wasn’t sure if she had been staring at the man for a few seconds or an hour. She realized though, that however much time it had been was stretching to a concerning length, as the nurse lifted a hand to her arm.
“Do you need to sit down?” The same look the woman at the front desk had given her flashed across his eyes. That's when Eve realized what that look was. That solemn but somehow degrading look.
Pity.
They were pitying her, pitying Zoe, pitying how much her family had fallen apart, how much Eve was losing in her attempts to keep the last thing that kept her on solid ground. Eve knew what pity meant. She knew it meant that they didn’t believe there was more to do, that they felt it had all come to a standstill. They felt bad for Eve, for her broken family, for her dying sister, for her empty wallet and just run-down apartment, but they didn't believe there was much else she could do. The worst part was that Eve wasn’t sure if she disagreed.
When Zoe got sick, Eve felt the final stings that kept her together start to snap. She was her core, more important than anything else in her life. Zoe held her together, kept her moving, kept her fighting. When their landlord raised rent again, and two jobs began to not cut it, Zoe kept her afloat. When their mother left them eight years ago when Eve was only seventeen, Zoe kept her pushing forward. When she found Jessie on the tile floor of a club bathroom, needle in hand surrounded by her own vomit, pulse gone still, it was Zoe, even if the girl didn’t know it, that kept her alive.
The magical thing about that little girl was that Eve didn’t just feel motivated to fight for her happiness, even if that came before everything else, but Zoe made her want to fight for her own happiness, her own comfort, and stability. If these nurses had given up on Zoe, on Eve, did Eve really have something left to push her forward?
She looked back over to the bed, the clouds had fully cleared and sunlight now fell over the bed in such a way it almost felt holy if not for the dark sunken eyes and thinning arms that it highlighted. It wasn't pity that Eve felt, even if she knew everyone around her felt it, but hopelessness. She knew that Zoe could push through this if she could recover and regain all of the light and joy that had been taken from her, she could do it without Eve, but if she couldn’t, Eve wasn't sure if she could pull herself out of the void that would surely consume her whole. Realizing that at this point the silence that echoes throughout the room had gone on for longer than it should have, Eve spoke again,
“Sorry, I just…” Not sure what to say, she hopes that her gaze falling back onto her sister will be words enough to message her fear to the nurse without having to voice them to a near stranger.
“Please, don’t apologize,” he replied earnestly, “Things could always change, her heart rate is steady, so far no organs seem to be at an increasing risk of failure, and we have been doing our best to minimize any risk of infection or virus”
Eve knew he meant it all positively, but that first sentence made her chest twinge with anxiety ‘Things could always change’. Things could always get better, sure, but things could also get worse, much much worse. If Zoe accidentally picked up even a small cold it could be life-threatening, having practically no immune system and chemo becoming increasingly intense on her frail body, if anything got worse from here, chances of recovery were so slim, Eve wasn’t sure if they even counted as chances anymore, more like miracles.
“I have to go now,” The nurse began as Eve turned to face him, realizing that she'd spent most of the time staring silently at Zoe rather than interacting with the man who stood barely two feet from her “Please put on this mask, and let us know if you guys need anything, or if anything changes”
With that, the nurse handed her a mask similar to his own, and walked out the door. Now Eve’s full focus was dead set on Zoe, suddenly feeling desperately lonely, Eve wishes that the nurse had stayed, not left her alone with these terrible feelings. But she knew that even if he had stayed, it wouldn’t have made a difference. With or without company, grief plagued every twist and turn of Eve’s mind.
Finally, she took a step forward, moving for the first time since entering the room. It felt strange to move again, her brain had become so wrapped around itself it felt as though she had forgotten how to use it for anything else. Her steps felt choppy and wrong, automatic as if it wasn't her who was moving, but some sort of puppet, legs dragging across the floor as thin strings attached to every limb brought her forward.
She reached the edge of the bed where Zoe lay, small breaths caused her chest to move up and down under the many blankets, a small monkey stuffed animal held in a loose hug between one of her thin arms. It was almost comforting to see the blankets shift from the movement, a reminder that Zoe was still there, that her body was still functioning, even if barely. But this sliver of hope was quickly plagued by more of what it could become.
Eve could see it so vividly, Zoe laying there motionless, the green line brought to a flat line, stretching on forever until they finally disconnected it.
The silence around them was so insufferably loud Eve felt her ears begin to ring. As Eve stood there in silence, simply staring at Zoe’s small body hanging on by a thread as she lay there, as if she was simply waiting for death, the ringing became unbearable.
Suddenly the building agitation caused a snap in her thoughts and she whipped around her heels and walked over to the small television that hung bolted to the ceiling. The buttons directly on the TV were too high up for Eve to reach, so she began scanning the room for a remote. Finally, her eyes landed on a small thin remote with the tacky hospital logo printed on. In an attempt to fill the room with something, anything, Eve almost frantically clicked through the stations. Snapshots of various news channels eventually turned to children’s shows as she clicked down through the channels.
The room became filled with short sounds of cut-off cartoonish and over-the-top dialogue. She continued to flick through the shows, almost finding comfort in the constant change. It gave her something to do, and forced her mind to focus on something other than the frail girl in the bed just a few feet away. Suddenly she heard the familiar sound of trombones. Having flipped past the channel, she started going back through the station much slower, to not miss it again. Eventually, she landed on it, a warmly colored 2-D cartoon she had grown up on, and in turn, played for Zoe as well.
She didn’t remember when she first saw a Charlie Brown special, but she does remember how she would sit on the colorful mismatched carpet in their small living room and drown out the sounds of poorly hushed arguments from the kitchen.
When Zoe was born, Eve remembered the first time she got to hold her, she was sitting on the couch, watching a Charlie Brown Christmas special despite it being the middle of summer while working on an essay for class. She recalled how nervous she had been, holding something so small and delicate, so precious and revered by everyone around her. This nervousness quickly fell through when small chubby hands began to try and reach for the TV.
So vividly Eve remembers the fondness and joy that filled her in that moment, feeling an uncontrollable smile stretching across her face as a baby Zoe babbled in her arms. Even now the memory made Eve feel a small smile come to her lips. But she quickly restrained the attempt. She had no reason to smile, that healthy joyful kid was gone, sickness and meds draining her, leaving only a shell of who she used to be.
Eve walked back over to Zoe, Charlie Brown droning on in the background. She had been there for over an hour now, and Zoe still hadn’t moved. If not for her shallow breaths she almost seemed. Eve cut herself off. How could she think like that? She can’t be picturing Zoe’s already gone when she’s right there, alive and breathing, mind likely full of dreams as she peacefully sleeps. And yet no matter how much Eve told herself that Zoe is alive, that Zoe is right there, it felt like a lie. Eve began to stare at Zoe so deeply, trying to ingrain every minute detail of the girl into her mind that she almost didn’t notice when her breaths significantly slowed down, now only breathing once every once every several seconds.
Eve’s heart stopped. Blood rushed in her ears and her stomach dropped, fear overtaking her. She felt like the room was spinning around her, feeling like her legs were about to give out under her she reached for the small bedside table for support. She felt frozen as the breaths became sporadic and short. I need to move, I need to get someone. Replayed over and over again in her mind but her feet stay planted on the ground. God, Move you useless piece of shit, help her! Eve pushed her hand off of the bedside table, jolting her upright and darted out the door into the hallway.
“Please we need help, something is wrong!” She shouted as loud as she could, but no one looked at her. “Please, I need a nurse or a doctor!” She shouted as loud as she could but realized that she felt no strain in her throat, only words caught silently in her throat. She couldn't speak fear forcing her to freeze up again. Luckily, a nurse she recognized noticed her standing in the middle of the hallway, clearly distressed.
“Is there something wrong?” the woman asked, eyes looking considered and confused. Still unable to talk, Eve began to stress out even more, how could she tell the nurse that they needed help? In a flurry of emotion, Eve grabbed the woman’s arm and almost dragged her into the room. Fortunately, the nurse didn’t fight back, following Eve with ease back into the room. Silently Eve let go of the nurse and a shaky hand came up to point to Zoe, whose breathing had been up, but was now violet and sporadic, her body now slightly squirming back and forth, stuffed monkey forgotten on the floor.
“Zoe” Eve mutters, no louder than a prayer.
The nurse rushed forward and immediately slammed her hand down on the emergency help button that, in her frenzy, Eve had failed to notice. The woman turned to Zoe and began to help open her airway more while more nurses arrived. As the medical staff rushed in, Eve felt like she couldn’t breathe, breathing immensely. She felt like throwing up, a painful wave of nausea rushing over her.
The scene felt surreal, at least five nurses all crowded around her baby sister, everyone’s words tumbling over each other in a panic, Zoe’s body starting to jerk and squirm as her short violent inhales became increasing scares, pale skin turning almost gray from the lack of oxygen. Eve stared at the small part of Zoe’s face that wasn’t blocked by the blue scrubs of the nurses around her.
Despite the clear expression of pain on her face, Zoe’s eyes remained shut, leaving her unaware of how close she is to never getting to open them again. Eve wondered what her dreams were like right now, were they scary, causing her the agony that her body was experiencing? Or maybe it was peaceful, her brain protecting her from what was really going on. Maybe she wasn’t dreaming at all.
Maybe her final moments would be nothing more than the trillions of messages her neurons were sending to try and keep her alive as her lungs shut down, her brain silently dying as blood and oxygen was cut off. There would be no light she went towards, no key memories that flashed before her as she faded away, only unconscious actions she couldn't control. Only a painful sleep that would soon turn into nothingness.
Eve knew for sure she was going to throw up now. Bile washing over her tongue and acid burning her throat, blood rushing in her ears as her knees buckled and hit the hard tile beneath her. The impact caused a sharp pain to shoot up her knee caps but it didn’t matter. Eve couldn’t do this, she couldn’t keep moving without Zoe. How could she? How could she keep living and experiencing when Zoe couldn’t?
She didn’t deserve to enjoy the things loved or judge the things she didn’t when Zoe didn’t even get to do the bare minimum such as breathe, or feel her heart beating in her chest.
Soon it all became too much, the noise, the pain in her legs, the uncontrollable hyperventilation, everything hurt and she felt ripping out her eyes and ears if it meant making it all go away.
So she ran.
She shakily got up off the ground and ran as fast as she could, not bearing to look at the horrifying sight of her precious baby sister writhed in pain. She dashed through the white halls, tears beginning to stream down her face, breaths failing as they got caught in her throat. Her legs burned and her clothes were still cold and damp from the rain. She sprinted down the stairs and past the woman with the blue hair, still sitting behind a large computer screen. She wasn’t sure if the woman had called her name, all she could hear was her own thoughts begging all the pain to go away.
Not bothering to unlock her bike she kept running. She ran and ran until she turned onto a familiar street. With adrenaline pumping through her veins she frantically unlocked the door to her run-down apartment. She climbed the narrow step, never slowing down even as exhaustion began to plague her muscles. She flew through the door and crashed to the floor as soon as entering her apartment, adrenaline finally dying down. She was now aware of the unbearable burning in her lungs and her legs, bruises now forming on her knees from the hospital tiles. Everything hurt, and no matter how much she heaved it felt impossible to breathe.
If this was how Zoe felt then Eve couldn't believe how she was still holding on. She had always been so much stronger than her older sister. While Eve seemed to fall apart at the smallest things, Zoe always pushed forward, even when everyone around her thought she could give up. That was one of the things that made her so much better than Eve, so much more deserving of joy and peace than she. Falling on her side, eve became consumed in uncontrollable ugly sobs, tears and mucus streaming down her face as she begged for it to all go away only wishing she could hold Zoe again, feel her warmth again, run her fingers through her hair while Zoe ranted on about something that happened to her during recess.
Holding her hands close to her chest, Eve sobbed and sobbed until her throat felt raw and her voice became quiet only due to her inability to sob anymore, leaving her quietly sniffing on the floor. She laid there for almost an hour, the sound of hiccups and silent sobs filling the empty apartment. At some point her eyes ran dry, left red and puffy from the tears. Her pain has not lessened, but with the emotional exhaustion flooding over her, she felt an emptiness inside, like a growing void that spread throughout every vein in her body.
As she laid there, limbs now lazily sprawled across the hardwood floor, lips slightly parted, eyes clouded in misery. She became hyper-aware of how cold and empty the apartment was.
No rug or pillows, no books or picture frames, not even a TV stand. She had sold it all to help pay for Zoe’s medical bills, but it still never felt empty until now. Until she knew that only her presence would fill the small rooms. She would be the only one to change anything, everything lightswitch or doorknob that was used would only be used by her, and never anyone else until one day she moved and any reminisce of Zoe’s effect on the apartment was wiped away.
Could she do that? Could she keep living here knowing that every time she touched something it only further solidified that Zoe wasn’t coming home? The thought that every time she even took a breath was one moment further away from Zoe, with no way of going back was terrifying. Her lips had become dry and her tear-burned eyes stung with every blink.
At that moment something in Eve broke. Maybe it had been broken for a while, but now it had completely shattered. Unsure of what had come over her, but Eve suddenly felt herself pushing her weight up with her arms. Slowly and steadily, almost robotically, Eve stood up. She wandered into the tiny kitchenette and opened the pantry. After some digging she found what she was looking for and removed a small peach-colored bag from the cabinet.
With the bag in hand, she silently walked into her bedroom, and out onto the small patio. It wasn’t really a patio, it was more of an oversized windowsill with a railing, but it was large enough that Eve could fully stand on it with the door closed. The sun had now begun to set, and storm clouds were long gone, the only proof of their existence being the puddles that practically flooded the city around her.
As the warm breeze wrapped it around her, the blues and pinks of the sunset reflecting on the puddles almost cinematically, Eve felt almost at peace.
Slowly she opened the small bag and pulled out two dried apricots, a snack she had grown up on and ate almost religiously, but Zoe had always hated. Eve felt a small smile form on her lips at the memory of Zoe trying the snack for the first time, immediately spitting it out and proceeding to rant about how it tasted like the throw-up flavored Bean-Boozled jelly beans. Looking down at the ground several stories below her, cars splashing through the puddles that formed next to the curve, low-beams on as darkness began to creep over the city horizon.
Placing the bag down on the floor, she removed her jacket and shoes, placing them neatly down next to her. With this, she finally placed the fruit into her mouth, closing her eyes to only focus on the sweet but tangy flavor. All sound around her droning out, only the taste of dried apricots as warm summer winds wrapped around her.
At 11:38 am the next day Zoe woke up, a Charlie Brown Christmas special played on the TV and one of the nurses had brought her a simple lunch of chicken noodle soup and cherry Jell-o. Quietly she ate her lunch, immersed in the characters on the screen, unaware that somewhere in the city her sister lay motionless, having spent her final moments believing Zoe was doing the same.