Fix You

I didn’t tell many people this, but after the accident, we got a lot of money—more money than any twenty-something should know what to do with. For the longest time I refused to touch it. I would’ve rather been dirt poor than have piles of money and no parents, but then you got sick and I didn’t have much of a choice. Being rich with no parents wasn’t an option, and there was no way I was going to be rich with no parents and no brother.

After the accident, the house felt too big for just the two of us. Various family members and friends of our parents offered to come stay with us for a while—help with the cooking and cleaning and landscaping—but I couldn’t stay there. After you had nightmares for a week straight, I knew we both needed a change of scenery. I found a suitable apartment a mile or so outside of Sewickley and left the heart of the Steel City in the past—until you got sick and our temporary residence became UPMC, at least. It was quiet in Sewickley. No one paid attention to the children of old steel money when there were Congressmen and retired athletes walking around.

But I wondered if it was too much. The only reason we moved there was because our parents had died, and now that you were on the rebound from a life-threatening disease, I couldn’t help but wonder if another change would do you some good.

I convinced myself it wouldn’t. The apartment was home now, and after the accident I knew you needed familiarity. We couldn’t run away every time something bad happened, and that wasn’t a habit I wanted to instill in you. You didn’t need to know how much of a coward I truly was.

“You’re sure he’s okay to go home?” I asked Dr. Beleznay for the hundredth time that afternoon. He nodded, going over the timetable for your appointments and medications once more before he ushered me out of his office.

“This is good, Annick. There’s a million people that’d kill to be in your shoes right now.”

I sighed. I was scared, not stupid. This was the day I’d been praying for ever since you’d been admitted, and now that it’d finally come, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t ready or that I wasn’t thankful. I was more worried about you than anything—how you’d adjust, if you’d regress, what would happen if you got sick again and had to go back. Just like seeing Kris and his teammates a few months ago, I worried what getting a taste of home and having it ripped away would do to you. I was nothing if not paranoid.

Marjorie had tears in her eyes as you hugged her goodbye. Even Jen and some of the friends you’d made stopped by to see you off. The children didn’t understand. You were just Alex to them, just another kid that also lived at the hospital. Now you were leaving and they weren’t, and no one had the heart to explain why. Jen ushered them out of the room and gave Marjorie’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I’m going to miss you, kiddo,” Marjorie told you, kneeling down to your height. “Who am I going to sneak cookies to in the middle of the night?”

You shrugged. “You can eat them.”

She smiled, though it was only an attempt to choke back her sob. You left an impression on everyone you met. It’s why Marjorie was crying, why so many people came to wish you well, why Kris kept coming around. Mama was the same way; I saw so much of her in you that sometimes it was like she wasn’t gone at all, just a pint-sized version now.

“Do you have all your things?” I asked, trying to distract the mess of a woman in front of you. You gasped, remembering a book you’d forgotten in the closet, and scurried off to retrieve it.

“You okay, Marj?”

She returned to full height, wiping the corners of her eyes. “Can I be honest with you?” I nodded. “This wasn’t the way I expected him to be leaving.”

My eyes squeezed shut reflexively as if that could save me from the thought of you not being here anymore. Marjorie was right, though; it was nothing short of a miracle that you were still here, that you’d come as far as you had. I had a lot of thank you cards to write.

“You have my number and email—if you ever need anything, please let me know.”

Marjorie nodded. “I can’t believe this is really happening.”

I didn’t know what to say that I hadn’t said a million times already. Luckily I didn’t have to come up with filler, as you rejoined us after finding your book. You wrapped your tiny fingers around my arm and looked up at me and I swear my heart grew ten times its size. You were okay. You were still here.

“Ready to go?” You nodded. “Give Marjorie one more hug goodbye, okay? She’s really sad you’re leaving.”

You wrapped your arms around her legs. “Don’t be sad.”

“I’ll try my best. Be good for your sister, all right?”

“I will.”

I gave Marjorie one last look as I grabbed your hand and led you out of the hospital. I buckled you into the backseat and handed you the book you’d forgotten, smiling as you immediately cracked the spine and started reading. This wasn’t going to be so bad, I told myself. We’d done all right on our own before you got sick; this was no different.

UPMC was nothing more than a scene in the rearview mirror as I exited the parking lot. You talked animatedly the whole way home, telling me about the different things you were reading in your book. It was the only one you hadn’t read out of the bunch I’d bought you for Christmas—another about hockey, of course. In true Pittsburgh fashion, I’d found a biography of Sidney Crosby and picked it up, knowing you probably wouldn’t be able to understand it but that it’d be important to you anyway. You were asking me what certain words meant when we pulled into the driveway.

“Seatbelt off,” I said, twisting the key out of the ignition. You let yourself out of the car and waited for me to take your hand. Even after spending so much time in the hospital, you hadn’t forgotten that I never let you go anywhere without holding my hand.

“We can go shopping tomorrow if you feel okay,” I said. You ignored me; things like groceries and home decor meant nothing to you. “Are you hungry?” I asked, turning the key to unlock the front door.

You were halfway through telling me you wanted a “smashed cheese sandwich” when I flicked on the living room light and there was a deafening loud chorus of “SURPRISE!”

Half the Pittsburgh Penguins roster was scattered throughout the room, all wearing their jerseys and sporting proud smiles. Crosby was front and center, of course, while Kris stood off to the side, happy to let you have your moment. And have your moment you did. You dropped my hand and looked at me in shock; I just smiled.

“Are you gonna say hi to your friends?”

You turned shy all of a sudden, hiding behind my legs as everyone watched you. Kris knelt in front of you and whispered something into your ear that I couldn’t catch. You laughed and followed him to where his teammates stood. They were high-fiving you and ruffling your hair, all the while welcoming you home and saying how great it was to see you again.

“Do you think it was too much?” Kris asked, appearing at my side out of nowhere. I shrugged.

“He’ll be fine in a few minutes. I think he’s in shock; might need to take another trip back to the hospital.”

Kris laughed quietly, watching you the same way I was. “I made arrangements for March ninth.”

“Arrangements for what?”

“They’re going to let Alex do puck drop.” My jaw dropped and Kris hurried to finish, “It’s a Friday night—home game, of course. I know you probably think that’s too much but I wanted to.” His face softened once he realized I wasn’t going to overreact. “I hope it’s okay.”

“You’re going to spoil him,” I said, a smile tugging at my lips even though I was trying really hard to seem angry. Being angry with Kris seemed impossible.

“Guess I’ll have to stick around then.”

The way he said it set my nerves on fire. It was playful, almost flirtatious, but there was an undertone in the way his voice deflected that wasn’t joking. He was almost asking, hoping I’d say it was okay. Even if he hadn’t singlehandedly been responsible for your miraculous recovery, I wouldn’t have turned him away. One way or another, we were involved now. It wasn’t romantic, and part of me felt like even labeling us as friends was rushing it, but we were something. Lifeboats, maybe. We were meant to bring one another to another place or time. Somewhere happier, a place where we weren’t hurt and everyone we loved was still with us.

I tried to forget that place didn’t exist.

“How’d you get everyone here?”

“Told them if they didn’t come I was going to get myself benched.”

I rolled my eyes. “No you didn’t.”

“I know,” Kris said, cracking a smile. “I told them I needed a favor. Once I told them what it was, they were suckers. Especially Duper.” He nodded his head toward one of his teammates and I couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Number nine had you on his shoulders, instructing you to beat on another Penguin.

“Who’s Alex whomping on?”

“Geno,” Kris laughed. “He’s kind of scary-looking but has a soft spot for kids.”

I shrugged, already knowing you were in good hands.

“Gonna join the party?”

Kris shook his head. “He’s more interested in them. He sees me all the time.”

“I told you you’re spoiling him.” The defenseman hip-bumped me. “Want something to drink?”

He nodded and I made my way into the kitchen. I had no idea what he wanted so I fixed two glasses of iced tea and hoped for the best. I also dug through the pantry and cabinets in search of any junk food I could supply to half a team’s worth of professional athletes. They’d eat me out of house and home and it still wouldn’t be enough.

I was pouring a bag of pretzels into a plastic serving bowl when I noticed someone lean against the counter next to me.

“Enjoying the party, Sid?”

The captain shrugged playfully. “Too many guys.”

I laughed despite myself and handed him the bowl of pretzels. He didn’t move, just dug in and started eating them by the handful. “I’m not responsible for what happens to you if you eat them all.”

“I have a concussion,” he reminded me. “They’re not allowed to beat me up.”

“So what brings you to my kitchen?”

“I wannid to ashk—” he paused, giving himself a second to swallow the wad of food in his mouth. “I wanted to ask what was going on with you and Tanger.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Nothing. We’re friends.”

“I’m not trying to pry, I just…” He sighed, setting the bowl back onto the counter. “This means a lot to him—the kid, looking out for you, making sure you’re okay. He’s been through it.”

“I know.”

“He told you?”

“He probably didn’t mean to,” I answered, feeling my cheeks grow warm. “We probably drank a little too much on New Year’s and he wound up mentioning it.”

Sidney whistled. “I’m not going to tell you to take it easy on him, but take it easy on him, eh? It might’ve happened a long time ago but he’s still not really all there.”

I thought about our parents. I thought about losing them and how I cried so hard at the funeral I triggered an anxiety attack and had to go to the emergency room. I thought about the first time I came home to an empty, silent house and the first time you had a nightmare. I thought about how my chest always got tight when I recalled a particular memory, like the way Mama always used to read us Alexandre Dumas’ La Reine Margot before we went to sleep and how excited she was when Dad agreed to let her name you after him.

I still wasn’t all there, either. Maybe Kris could sense that somehow.

“You don’t have to worry about me, Sidney.”

“I’m his captain. It’s my job to look after my team.”

I offered up a tight-lipped smile. “And they’re a better one because of it.”

Bowl of pretzels in one hand and two glasses of iced tea in the other, I moved back into the living room. My eyes were immediately drawn to Kris, who was sitting with you on the floor, reading you the Crosby biography I thought you’d left in the car. Neither one of you bothered to look up when I walked in, and not even the chorus of cheers that went into the air at the bowl of snacks could steal your attention away.

Sidney didn’t have to worry about me, and I knew I no longer had to worry about you.