Infamous Like Us (Like Us 10)

Your husband might die because of me. Guilt is a parasite that has infected every cell in my body.

Jane reaches for my hand. I let her take it. She gives her coffee to Audrey. And to my surprise, Jane silently leads me out of the waiting room. I think she means for us to go to the hallway, but she keeps walking.

I barely notice how Oscar and Donnelly have followed like shadows behind us. Here to protect us. Like Thatcher protected me.

We continue onward. Until we stop in a long, random hallway. Art decorates the walls. Each painting is a scene from a classic fairytale. Little Red Riding Hood. Sleeping Beauty. Cinderella.

Only these aren’t highbrow works of art. Watercolors and crayons are smeared and smudged and poorly drawn like a child’s doing. I glance over my shoulder. Oscar and Donnelly stand far off by a vending machine, pretending to give us privacy.

“Farrow showed me this last time,” Jane says softly.

Last time. “After the townhouse fire?”

She nods. “Children from a local school paint them every year, and then they’re auctioned during a charity event for the hospital. According to Farrow, it’s all for show because the winners of the auction just donate the paintings to the hospital anyway.”

With our hands clasped together, Jane and I view the children’s artwork. I focus in on the messy drawing of The Little Mermaid. The eyes are off center. Her hair is purple. I love it. “They’re beautiful,” I breathe.

“Insider tip,” Jane says. “This is the most private hallway in the hospital.”

I glance at her, and we share a soft, fading smile. Even though she seized my hand first, I hold onto Jane’s stronger to comfort my cousin. “Jane, I’m…I’m so, so sorry. That…I didn’t know…I tried calling…I…” Tears build in both our eyes. “I wish it would’ve been me.”

Jane takes my hand in both of hers. “He would have rather it been him.” We’re both crying. I put my other hand on our hands. Face-to-face with Jane, our tears fall to our knuckles and fingers. Then slip, making wet droplets on the ground.

She breathes out, “Banks would have done the same for me. Don’t carry this with you, Sulli.”

“This is different. I’ve been fucking awful to you.” My voice cracks. “I’ve avoided you—and Thatcher knew I was icing you out. And all the kind things he said to me…and all that I didn’t get to say to him…”

“He knew you weren’t awful to me,” Jane cries, neither of us letting go of each other, not even to wipe our cheeks. “I knew you weren’t being awful. You just needed time…and it hurt a little.” Her breezy voice fractures.

God. I cry harder.

She cries more. “I just envisioned us being closer.”

“I know,” I cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. You’ve always been so maternal and sweet, and you’re going to be the best mom around, Jane. The absolute fucking best, and I just see the world constantly telling me I’m the worst in comparison. Bottom fucking tier, and looking at you, being with you, I was just confronting that stupid insecurity—”

“It’s not stupid,” she cuts in, shaking her head vigorously. “I’m terrified of motherhood too. You know who I’m going to be compared to? My mom. The most brilliant mother who kicked ass raising seven children in stilettos while owning her own world-renowned fashion company. I’m not her.”

I didn’t realize Jane would share the same insecurity. Silent tears keep cascading. “It fucking sucks.”

“It really does,” Jane says in a broken voice. “Raising cats hasn’t prepared me at all. I’m not a good disciplinarian. I love being a sibling to my siblings because I don’t have to be strict like my parents. I’m too soft—” She starts bawling again. “And I thought…I imagined Thatcher would level us out as a team, as parents. He’d be tough but loving in all the ways I’m not.”

I let go of her hands and wrap my arms around her. She hugs me as though her legs are about to buckle. But I use all my strength and keep her on her feet. I keep her upright. I keep her against me.

Jane cries into my shoulder.

I touch the back of her frizzy hair. “He’s not gone, Jane. He’s a fighter. I know he is because he’s best friends with Akara and Banks—the three of them are fighters, and they don’t go down that easily. They just don’t. He’s coming back to you and your daughter. And you’ll both raise her together, and she’ll grow up alongside my daughter or son.”

Just like Thatcher wanted.

Just like I want.

Just like I can tell Jane wants. Her tears slow with deep breaths. After several minutes, she’s able to stand more on her own. We gently pull apart, wiping our cheeks. I rub my nose with my forearm.