Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102355 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“I should have been there.”
“No,” she snaps sharply enough that I startle.
The door to her hospital room opens and my dad rushes back in. “I thought I heard talking. You’re awake. Thank god. How are you feeling?”
Lita tsks and tries to brush aside his concern, and then her eyes widen when she sees my mom step into the room as well. “What are you doing here? Both of you? Oh, how silly. I’m fine!”
For two days, Lita heals at the hospital while my parents and I dance around each other. I don’t leave her side and they don’t leave mine. The tension in the room is palpable. My parents aren’t going to forgive me for what I’ve done. The more they ask about it and the more I share, the angrier they get. The fact that I kept it a secret, that I lied to them over and over again—it feels like a personal betrayal even when I try to explain it wasn’t meant to be. How can I share that I wanted a summer on Ibiza as Elle rather than living one more second as Isabel? That I wanted to escape from a life most people would beg for?
I know it was selfish. I wanted freedom and now I understand the full consequences of that decision. Had I been in Marseille with Lita all summer like we planned, I would have been there the day she fell. I could have helped her. Had my parents known Lita was on her own, maybe they would have checked on her more often. Maybe she would have been taken to the hospital sooner.
I apologize for all of this and more, but my dad is too concerned with Lita’s condition to listen, and my mom is swept up in making arrangements for Lita’s care. I endure my parents’ disappointment and anger in the confines of that hospital room until finally Lita is discharged and we take her home. There, I endure the same disappointment and anger, just in a new setting.
The constant shame has taken its toll. I feel it in my posture, my facial features, the tightness in my chest. My knees are going to give out under the weight of it. Lita’s the only one who seems to think none of this was my fault.
“Have you spoken to your friends?” she asks the afternoon we settle into her home. I’m at her bedside, ensuring her medications are in order and trying to memorize her pill schedule when I shake my head.
“No.”
They’ve called and I haven’t answered. I barely look at my phone.
“And Cristiano? Has he called?”
I let my vision soften on a bottle of medication, annoyed by all the French on the label. “Yes.”
“And?” she presses impatiently.
My mom walks past Lita’s open door, a hired nurse trailing after her. “—your duties. If you need anything, my daughter will be here—”
“Nothing,” I say tightly, unwilling to meet her eyes. “I haven’t answered.”
Lita sighs heavily and leans her head back against her pillows, casting her gaze up to the ceiling. “You’re punishing yourself,” she concludes.
I shrug and reach over so I can pick up her empty teacup and take it to the kitchen. I’ll finish studying her medications when she’s asleep and can’t pester me.
“They’re wrong,” she insists. Just before I cross the threshold, I pause. “What you did this summer is what you’re meant to do! You’re young, mi niña. It breaks my heart to see you like this…”
Her words can’t penetrate the dense haze of guilt surrounding me.
In the kitchen, my dad sits at Lita’s breakfast table with his laptop open in front of him. I know he’s behind on work, but instead of focusing, he’s staring off at the garden through the window. When I set Lita’s cup on the counter, he looks at me. I feel his gaze even while I’m too embarrassed to look up.
“I still don’t understand why you felt the need to sneak off this summer.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m starting to hate the sound of those two words. How many times can I say them without them being heard?
“Does this have to do with Winnie?”
It’s the first time he’s asked me the question outright, so I force myself to face him and nod. “Yes, partially.”
He doesn’t hide his sorrow. “What else, then? There’s more to it, Isabel.”
He looks older than at the start of summer. He’s let his beard grow. There are dark circles under his eyes. His brow is furrowed and tense. He’s already worried about Lita so I don’t want to burden him with anything else.
I shake my head and turn to hand-wash Lita’s teacup. “Nothing important.”
My parents are due to leave on Saturday, a week after their arrival. Lita’s recovering quickly, and most of the bruising around her eye has started to fade. She’s up and walking around like normal, but with her arm in a splint, she needs help with daily tasks. It’s decided that I’ll spend the rest of the summer in Marseille with her. I’m not sure if I volunteer for it or if my parents assign me the role because they think it will be a fair punishment for me. I don’t mind either way; I want to be with Lita. It was always the plan to stay with her at the end of summer, in August, and though it’s only mid-June, I decide to make the best of it.