Free While My Sister Sleeps by Barbara Delinsky Page A

‘attack’?”
    “They're just words to me right now. I'm pretty shaken. We all are. I've told you as much as we know for sure.” Not exactly a lie, either.
    “Okay. That's okay. Will you call me when you learn anything more?”
    She said she would, but ended the call feeling uncomfortable. It was a minute before she put her finger on it. For all his questions, he hadn't asked how
she
was doing with all this. Friends who claimed they were good buddies did that.
    Telling herself that it was a simple oversight—that he knew she was upset, so had no need to ask—she closed her phone and went back up the hall. She was nearly at Robin's door when her father emerged. He was taking his own phone fromhis pocket. “Your mom agreed to the EEG. Want to stay with her while I give Chris a call?”
    THE EEG wasn't done until early evening to accommodate the neurologist, who wanted to be present to interpret the results. The machine was brought into Robin's room. Since quiet was required for the truest reading, Kathryn was the only family member allowed to stay.
    She was grateful that the nurses sensed her need to be there, but if she had been hoping to bring Robin luck, it didn't work. She cheered silently. She repeated every motivational thought that had goaded Robin on in the past. She counted on her brain waves connecting to Robin's.
    But the news wasn't good. After an hour of the machine's pen scratching on paper, Kathryn could see it herself—one flat line after the next over twelve different readings.
    What could the neurologist say? Crying quietly, Kathryn couldn't think to ask new questions, and after he left, the nurse lingered, focusing not on Robin but on her, which almost felt worse.
Did she want to talk with social services?
No.
Perhaps a minister?
No.
    I want that second test
, Kathryn finally managed to say. The nurse nodded and replied,
It's a process
, which didn't help at all. Kathryn didn't want a process. She wanted her daughter.
    For the longest time after the nurse left, Kathryn stood holding Robin's hand, studying her face, trying to square what the test said with the daughter who had done cartwheels at the age of three. Charlie was behind her, with Chris and Erin nearby. Molly was back by the wall. No one spoke, and thatdidn't help either. It wasn't fair,
none
of it—not their silence, not her pain, not Robin's fate.
    Furious, she turned on her family. “You all wanted this done. Are we able to help Robin more now?”
    Charlie looked crushed. Chris clutched Erin's hand. Molly was in tears.
    “I
saidit
was too soon,” Kathryn argued, starting to cry again herself. Charlie gave her a tissue and held her until she regained composure. “Some patients need more time. The doctor said that. I'm going to keep talking to her. She hears me. I know she does.” Determined, she returned to Robin. “And I know how to give pep talks, don't I. So here's a really, really important one.” She bent down, spoke low. “Are you listening, Robin? I need you to
listen.
We've faced tough fields before. You've competed against some of the best runners in the world and come out ahead. That's what we'll do this time. We'll surprise them all. We're going to
win.
”
    Molly materialized at her side. “Mom?” she asked in a very young voice.
    Kathryn softened at the sound. Molly wasn't often vulnerable. It was a throwback, a reminder of what Charlie had said. “What, honey?”
    “Maybe we should tell Nana.”
    Kathryn should have been hurting enough to be immune to more pain, but there it was. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought hysteria. She wasn't sure how much a person was expected to bear all at once, but she was reaching her limit.
    Opening her eyes, she said, “Nana isn't herself.”
    “She has lucid times.”
    “She can't remember our names, much less take in something we tell her. She isn't the Nana you knew, Molly. Besides,” she returned to Robin with a last glimmer of hope, “it wouldbe cruel to tell a woman