The Wake

He was nothing but a smile, the kind of smile that slid on and off every couple of minutes without any reason; just two rows of orthodontically ordered teeth that created a contagious pandemic of unwarranted happiness. Lucy could already feel her lips beginning to part. She hated it. How could he be the happy one? After all he had gone through with the cancer, he was still the one with the smile. Even the nurses left his room in a better mood. And now, when there were no more options, she was just supposed to pretend that everything was all right?

“So,” he said, “Batman or Superman?”

“Superman, of course.” She picked up the plastic fork off his tray, and began to poke rows into the cubes of red jello he had not managed to eat. Her parents had decided it would be better this way, having him not know. They said it would give him a chance to just live a little. A chance to not be afraid. Lucy did not know if she could do it. She was a horrible liar in the best of times. Every bit of her insincerity always appearing on her face until she knew there was no other option but to run. If she couldn’t lie to a stranger how was she suppose to lie to him? “Superman can do anything.”

“But he has no personality. He’s so boring. All he does is fly around in tights and get sick from a green rock.” Clear liquid slid down his IV tube and through the needle into his skin.

“And Batman doesn’t wear tights?”

“Yeah. But it’s different.”

Lucy looked at her brother. He smiled. It was a big one that filled out the space where his cheeks use to be. He used it as an intentional challenge meant to goad her into a reaction that only he knew how to get, causing Lucy to fall deeper into their intimate cycle of redundant arguments where there were only two sides: his and hers. It amused him, watching her face grow redder as her arms and hands jerked in scrambled emphasis, knowing that with one smile he could break through the Lucy’s façade that made her an ideal candidate for Law School. With anyone else her rapid responses remained calm and sincere, logical to their core. But he was different.

Lucy’s nose started to itch, but that was all. No red burst across her face turning her into an undignified, temperamental lobster. No elbows threatened anyone with intentions of personal contact. No antagonistic thoughts piled up in her head. Instead Lucy felt her voice box sink into her stomach, away from her throat and the high pitched register that initiated her fighting spirit. It was too hard. The truth was on the tip of her tongue, ready to be released into the room where it would finally become something real.

You’re dying. There is nothing they can do. They say there is nothing they can do. They’ve tried everything. They say they’ve tried everything, that we should just be happy that you had extra time. You had extra time to live, always in and out of surgery and connected to machines, all because they caught it by chance. Because of the surgery. Because just a routine hernia operation gave you more time, saved your life.

Instead she smashed the jello beneath her fork before she said, “But why? Why do you like Batman?”

“Because, with his technology he could, like, actually be real.” The electric pump in one of the machines by his bed hummed, and fluid rushed though one of the tubes that stuck out from under the grey hospital sheets. With all the technology around him he was still going to die.

“But Batman’s inconsistent, and busy. He’s inefficient.” There was nothing left on the tray but gelatinous red flecks. “Superman always saves everyone.”

“Yeah. But that’s boring.” He smiled again, each tooth another prod at the sleeping lion. She stared at him, her contacts stiff and dry from the sterilized air. Their parents would be done with the paper work soon. Then they’d come in and tell him he was going to be fine, that there was going to be no more surgery. They’d tell him that he would just have to stay here a little while longer until he was strong enough to go home. A different smile would spread across his face, one of relief. A smile that celebrated the news that he would no longer be a burden.

Lucy’s hand relaxed and the fork dropped on to the destructed jello. He was right. The story would be boring, but it wouldn’t hurt as much. She wanted to tell him that, wanted to see his smile go away. She wanted to know that he was as afraid as she was. But she didn’t. His smile was all that was really left of him, and she wasn’t going to be the one to take it away.