"Soph," Dad said with a tenderness I didn't expect from someone he supposedly never spoke to. Dad pulled her into his arms like they were so familiar with each other and she burrowed into him, searching for comfort. He stroked her back, rocking her while she whimpered. I watched them, lost somewhere between confusion and sorrow. It was like they yearned for each other and I while I didn't understand it, I felt it and it made me so sad. Dad glanced up at me, his eyes bloodshot.
"When is your next appointment?" he asked, his voice hoarse.
"I get blood drawn tomorrow, then when I get back from camp I'll see her. So three weeks."
Sophia sniffled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry." She cried again.
"Francesca," Dad started gently, "when she passed, it was because she was sick."
Goose bumps trailed down my arms and I looked at Sophia. Her soft cries were killing me. Dread formed in the pit of my stomach.
"Sick with what?"
Sophia looked at me. Her eyes were glossy, drowning in grief. She took a deep breath and looked at my dad. He dipped his chin like he was giving her the courage she needed to speak.
"Francesca had type 1 diabetes, but she also had another autoimmune disease on top of that." Her words shook and I felt myself on the verge of breaking down. "It was a terrible and rare one. Mixed Connective Tissue Disorder. But the diabetes is what ultimately took her life."
My lips parted in sadness. I may have only just met Sophia, but that didn't stop the tears from filling my eyes. I saw that autoimmune earlier on my phone when I was doing research, but I hadn't looked into it.
"How old was she?" I asked, nervous to hear the answer.
Her jaw quivered. "Francesca lived longer than expected," she said. "But her death was rough on me, and I think it's why I fell into such a deep depression after your birth."
"How old?" I asked again, almost afraid to learn the answer.
"Twenty."
"Twenty," I whispered. I wasn't too far from twenty, only a couple of years. Terror filled my veins and I thought back to how Sophia had just said her sister had lived longer than expected. I shifted my gaze. Swallowing thickly, I said, "Dad, you didn't think it would be important for me to know this at some point in my life?"
"I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest."
My jaw dropped, chin quivering. Tears threatened to spill over again, so I glanced up at the ceiling of his office, trying to hold them back. Learning life-altering news for the second time in one day was a lot to take in, especially when it involved death. The anxiety tightening the walls of my chest allowed this
damp, dark loneliness to intrude and take up space. I didn't like the way it felt and I wanted it gone as quick as it appeared.
"But autoimmune is hereditary. How could you not—"
"I forgot she had an autoimmune, Adrianna. I just remember the diabetes and how bad it was for her. Have you had your blood sugar checked?"
"Ah, I think so? I know the doctor ran a bunch of tests. If not, when I see her, I'll let her know about the family history."
Family. It was a word I didn't know the meaning to anymore, or who my family even was.
"Are you sick too, Sophia?" I wasn't sure if I was supposed to call her Mom or not. It felt weird just thinking about saying it. Even though she gave birth to me, she was still a stranger.
"No, I'm checked often. I'm perfectly healthy."
"Guess I'm the lucky one," I said.
We spent the next hour or so talking about Sophia's family, where I learned more about Francesca and how close they were. They were twins, actually, which was surprising. I'd once read that when a twin died something inside the surviving twin died too, that there would forever be a piece missing. Like a void. I couldn't fathom that kind of loss and my heart ached for her. She had a few old photos on her cell phone she showed me of when they were young. Sophia had been right—I did look so much like Francesca that I could have been a triplet. It was surreal.
When I left, I gave her a hug and she held on like she was afraid to let go. Her hands shook and she cried. She asked me if she could see me again, and I said yes. Dad stood to the side and watched us. He wasn't smiling or frowning, he just seemed like he was really far away, absent. I almost asked him what he was thinking about but I decided not to. I got the impression his feelings were private and he didn't want to share them.
I wasn't sure when I would see Sophia again based on my upcoming gym schedule, but something inside my heart told me it wouldn't be too long from now. It wasn't easy keeping it together. I felt bad for Sophia and the aunt I would never get to meet. But the truth was, I was terrified even more now for myself and what this could mean. It was like the universe was aligned for once in my life and some higher power knew I needed answers immediately.
The drive home was a blur. I didn't even remember it, and as tired as I was, my anxiety and thoughts kept me up all night. I laid in moments of emotionless silence shoving back the tears. I refused to cry, and I almost called Kova, but I didn't.
I couldn't stop reading about Mixed Connective Tissue Disorder, MCTD, and how it affected the human body, which only led me to read more about lupus. But more importantly, how dangerous MCTD could be. There were so many symptoms of both MCTD and lupus that it almost made them seem identical, and now I wondered if my doctor was on the wrong path. Both could result in kidney failure, complications with lungs, water around the heart, extreme fatigue, rash, fever, joint pain.