The residential care facility was a series of buildings behind an iron fence. Lorna had searched for it on Google Maps when Kristen was admitted here and thought then that it looked more like a prison than a long-term care facility.
“I’ll just pop in with you,” Dad said, pulling into a parking space.
“Umm... if you don’t mind, Dad, I’d rather go in alone,” Lorna said. She was already feeling sick with nerves. The last time she’d seen Kristen was in the hospital. She’d been on a ventilator, her hair greasy and her face and arms bruised. She’d looked dead.
“Are you sure, Lolo? You don’t know what ward—”
“I’ll find it,” she said quickly. It was one thing to face Kristen. It was quite another to do it with Dad hovering. She reached forward from her seat behind her father and put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “I need to do this on my own.”
“Okay,” he said, and sighed. “We’ll be at the café. Just text when you’re done.”
“Got it,” Lorna said, opening the door.
“Wait!” Bean cried. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a Precious Moments figurine. It was the mother and child with a puppy figurine she’d seen in Seth’s apartment. “This is you and me,” he said. “So it’s kind of like I’ll be there too.”
Lorna studied the figurine he pressed into her hand. She thought he’d taken it because it reminded him of his mother. “Bean,” she said, her voice full of all the emotion she was feeling. She grabbed him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.” She looked across the top of his head at Seth. She could see tears shining in his eyes, but he turned his face away, cleared his throat.
With the figurine in her pocket, she walked into the facility. There was a lot of security, and she needed to provide ample proof that she was allowed to see the patient, but she was at last escorted out of the main building, across a courtyard, and to a plain long building near the back of the complex. They went through a secure door, down a charmless corridor, and then arrived in a large dayroom with windows overlooking a waterway.
Inside were several people in various stages of presence, both mental and physical. But Lorna spotted Kristen immediately. She guessed she would never not find her sister in a crowded room.
Kristen was in a wheelchair. Her head lolled to one side. Her hair was in a high pony; it looked thick and shiny blond. She was wearing a sweatshirt that was too big for her and cotton scrub bottoms. On her feet were thick socks.
Lorna had to mentally command her feet to move, putting one foot in front of the other as she walked across the room. She was frightened of Kristen in this state, which made no sense. She wanted to hug her. She wanted to see her eyes, see that familiar gaze staring back at her.
When Lorna reached her, Kristen made no sign that she even noticed. An attendant pulled up a chair for Lorna, and she sat slowly, unsure if Kristen was capable of registering her presence. She leaned forward and put her face directly in front of Kristen’s—if she could see, she could not miss Lorna looming there. It took a moment, but she swore she saw something spark in Kristen’s pale blue eyes. Recognition, the sun—who knew? But something changed there.
A swell of love and grief mixed into one terrible knot in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t help herself—she burst into tears. She reached into her purse and grabbed some tissues. Then she put her hand in the pocket of her jacket and tightly gripped the figurine. She had not counted on such a great burst of emotion.
She dabbed at her eyes with the tissue and concentrated on taking several deep breaths. When she managed to pull it together, she said shakily, “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that.”
Kristen’s eyes were on her. They seemed quite clear now. “I don’t know what to say,” Lorna began. “I mean, I had something prepared and went over it and over it in my head, but I can’t remember a word of it now. So I guess I’ll just say that I love you, Kristen. I have always loved you so much.” More tears fell. She drew another breath. “Somuch.” She dropped the tissues in her lap and took Kristen’s hand in hers. Amazingly, Kristen gripped her hand. “I’m so sorry,” Lorna said. “I am so very sorry that this is what happened to you. That this happened to us. But I forgive you, Kristen.” The words sounded like a croak, coated in shame and regret. And the compassion she’d been missing for solong. Thick globs of it, coating her words. “And I forgive myself. Probably not what you were expecting me to say, but I’ve really needed to do that. I realize now that I couldn’t have changed you. I could not have made your choices. I could only protect myself. And now the only thing I can do is love you. And I do, Kristen.”
Kristen began to squeeze her hand rhythmically. Squeeze and release. Squeeze and release. Lorna wasn’t certain if it was a spasm or a sign from her sister.
“I want to ask your forgiveness,” she said.
The squeezing continued.
“I’ve thought so long about it, about everything, and why things happened and how they happened, and I have concluded that you, me, and Mom, well... we did the best we knew how, didn’t we? We each did the best we could.”
A bit of drool began to slide out the corner of Kristen’s mouth, but she kept squeezing Lorna’s hand. Lorna took her tissue and wiped the drool away. She didn’t say more. It didn’t seem there was anything left to say. She sat with Kristen until an attendant came to get her. It was time for Kristen to go to work on some motor skills. “Motor skills?” Lorna asked.
“We try,” the attendant said.
Lorna nodded. She couldn’t see very clearly now, as her eyes were filled with tears. But she slid her hand free of Kristen’s, then leaned over and hugged her. The antiseptic scent of her sister filled her nose. She was bone thin. But she was also familiar. Like an old teddy bear, a wistful sensation from something that had existed long ago. “I love you, Kristen,” she whispered, and let her go.
Had Kristen heard her or understood her? Lorna couldn’t say. She watched the attendant roll Kristen away.
And when Kristen was gone, Lorna felt a sense of peace come over her. The bomb-shelter door had been kicked off its hinges and thrown out. She felt herself coming fully into the light. She had forgiven her sister, accepted that she couldn’t have changed the outcome and that her responsibility was fully to herself.
She texted her dad.
When she went outside, the sun was in her eyes, and so were tears. But they were now tears of relief. Of hope for herself. Of compassion for herself.
But her tears weren’t so thick that she couldn’t see Bean and Seth standing outside her father’s car. Seth looked concerned. That concern was for her. Just for her. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt someone’s concern for her like she was feeling it now, and she burst into tears again. Seth immediately wrapped her in an embrace. So did Bean, throwing his arms around both their waists and pressing his face against Lorna’s hip. “I’m okay,” she said, and wrapped one arm around Bean. “I’m really okay.”
“Just checking,” Seth said gruffly.
