“He asked where another crib could go. Aunt Lisa said maybe your desk room.”
“Why?”
“They talked about two kids living here.”
He asked where another crib could go.
I walked downstairs and found Callum washing dishes. “Why were you and Lisa discussing where to put another crib?”
His hands stopped under the running water.
“Ellie heard you.”
He shut off the faucet. “Lisa isn’t moving in.”
“I didn’t ask if Lisa was. Is her baby coming here?”
They talked about two kids living here.
“Nothing has been decided.”
“Decided?”
He immediately knew he’d said too much.
That one word kept me awake long after he fell asleep on the couch.
Is her baby coming here?
***
That night, after Callum fell asleep on the couch, I went into his office.
I wasn’t proud of it.
I was also done being treated like the only person in my family who wasn’t entitled to know what was happening inside my own home.
I expected to find proof of an affair. What I found made even less sense.
That one word kept me awake long.
There was no romantic message.
No hotel receipt. No hidden photograph.
Instead, inside a notebook, Callum had written a list.
***
The next morning, I dropped the notebook in front of Callum.
“You went through my office?”
What I found made even less sense.
“Yes. Be angry later.” I opened it. “Crib. Formula. Childcare. Insurance. Legal fees. A budget for two children.”
He said nothing.
“We only have one, Callum.”
He rubbed both hands over his face. “Because she asked me a question I wasn’t prepared for.”
“What question?”
A budget for two children.
“I promised her I wouldn’t tell you why she asked it.”
“Then tell me what you can.”
He hesitated. “I haven’t agreed to anything without you. I was trying to figure out what Lisa was actually asking of us.”
“Said yes to what?”
His silence answered enough.
Tell me what you can.
I grabbed my keys.
“Where are you going?”
“To find out what my sister apparently thinks I’m agreeing to.”
I drove straight to Lisa’s apartment and knocked until she opened the door.
She looked exhausted. “Please don’t do this today.”
I haven’t agreed to anything without you.
I held up Callum’s notebook. “Crib. Childcare. Legal fees. Whatever you two are planning, I’m done being the last person to know.”
Her face changed.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she stepped aside.
Folders covered her kitchen table.
Please don’t do this today.
“Those?” I asked.
She nodded.
When Lisa opened the first one, I realized she and Callum hadn’t been planning an affair.
They’d been planning an entire future without me.
I stared at the first page. “Guardianship?”
Lisa nodded. “This is a draft.”
Her face changed.
“Yes.”
“Nothing’s signed.”
“No.”
I found the line marked “proposed guardians.”
“Me and Callum?”
They’d been planning an entire future without me.
She looked down. “Yes.”
“What is this?”
Lisa sat opposite me. “Something I hoped we’d never need.”
“Why would you even draft this before your child is born?”
She didn’t answer.
I found the line marked “proposed guardians.”
“Where is the baby’s father?”
“Gone. I told you that.”
“So you decided we’d raise your daughter?”
“If necessary.”
“If what is necessary?”
Something I hoped we’d never need.
Her eyes filled with tears.
I pushed the folder away. “Stop making me guess.”
She reached for another folder.
The next folder had a medical center’s name across the top.
“What’s this?”
Stop making me guess.
Lisa didn’t answer.
I opened it.
“Biopsy. Imaging. Treatment plan…”
My hand went instinctively to the scar beneath my shirt.
Lisa started crying. “That’s why.”
The next folder had a medical center’s name.
“Why what?”
“Why I couldn’t tell you.”
“Lisa, what is this?”
She took a shaky breath. “They found something.”
“What something?”
My hand went instinctively to the scar.
Lisa looked at me. “Cancer.”
Suddenly I remembered the untouched food at her shower. The exhaustion I’d blamed on pregnancy.
“They’re still running tests. They don’t know how aggressive it is yet, and because I’m pregnant, some treatment may have to wait until after I deliver.”
“How long have you known?”
“Cancer.”
“Almost two months.”
“And you already started planning who’d raise your baby?”
“My doctor told me to have a plan before treatment started.”
“For what?”
“In case I couldn’t care for her for a while.”
They don’t know how aggressive it is yet.
“A while?”
Lisa looked down. “He didn’t say I was dying. But I couldn’t stop wondering what would happen if ‘a while’ became longer.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward. “Two months?”
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Then why didn’t you?”
My doctor told me to have a plan.
“Because I remember you.”
I stopped.
Lisa wiped her face. “Remember before every scan?”
“What about it?”
“You’d squeeze that scar and study the doctor’s face.”
I remember you.
“I was scared.”
“I know. You stopped sleeping. Every phone call terrified you.”
“That was years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you think I couldn’t handle this?”
Her answer hurt because it came from the part of my past I thought I’d already survived.
Every phone call terrified you.
Lisa looked at me. “Because I watched uncertainty destroy you.”
I sat back down. “So you told my husband instead.”
“I needed practical help.”
“You needed your sister.”
“I needed you to stay my sister.”
Her answer hurt.
“What does that even mean?”
“The second I told you, I knew what you’d do.”
“What?”
“You’d take over.”
I opened my mouth.
I needed you to stay my sister.
She cut me off. “You’d research doctors, cancel work, drive me everywhere, call ten times a day.”
“Because I love you.”
