***SPOILER ALERT!*** This post contains information about my story Bonded, if you haven’t read it, click here before reading on.
The aroma of Thanksgiving strikes me as I step into Hannah’s loft. She smiles, taking my coat. Over her shoulder I see Lacy sitting at the table, her left arm bandaged from her wrist up to her black sleeve.
“Thank you for joining us,” Hannah says. “and, a happy Thanksgiving to you and your readers!” She grins, taking my coat.
“Thank you.” We set down to the spread of turkey, stuffing, potatoes of every kind, and a rainbow of vegetables. My stomach growls.
“You can ask your questions any time,” Lacy says with a sigh.
“I didn’t want to interrupt the meal, per say, but I thought I might slide a question or two into the conversation.”
“Be as bold as you like,” says Hannah, offering me a slice of turkey and piling my plate with a bit of everything.
“In that case, I’ll start with the question that seems foremost on readers minds. Why did Lacy jump?”
Hannah looks at her lap.
My eyes widen as I realize my gaff.
“That’s not my story to tell.” Hannah says.
“I’m sorry, Lacy. I shouldn’t be talking like you aren’t here.”
She shrugs. “You can tell her, Hannah. I’m going to lay down.” Lacy goes to the twin bed a few feet away and turns her back to us.
“I was hoping I could get Lacy excited over all of this,” she motions to the table, her voice low.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
She glances at Lacy and nods. “She jumped because she’s scared.” She shakes her head. “Her dad just passed away. He had Alzheimer’s. Now, she’s convinced she’s becoming more forgetful and she’s scared it passed from him to her. She watched her dad die hundreds of times before he died physically, and she’s scared of experiencing that.”
“One reader asked if Lacy has memory loss, does she?”
Hannah shakes her head. “Not that I’ve seen. The only difference I’ve noticed in her is her obsession with getting Alzheimer’s.”
“The same reader asked, ‘Are you a nurse or a cop?’”
“I’m neither. I’m a librarian.”
“Then how did you know where Lacy was?”
“She left me a note,” she swallows, “saying goodbye. For some reason I remembered a conversation we had months ago about that old apartment building. She had said it looked like a movie set for a suicide.”
“If you aren’t a nurse, how can you say you don’t see signs of Alzheimer’s in her?”
“Thank you!” Lacy says.
“I can say that,” says Hannah, “because I watched her dad for years, from the beginning of his disease to the end, and I don’t see those things in Lacy.”
“The same reader asked, ‘What did you mean by we’re not blood, but we’re family?’”
Hannah smiles, leaning back in her chair. “We grew up like sisters, but without the sibling rivalry. She’s closer to me than the marrow in my bones.”
“Is that why you’re so stubborn about giving up on her?”
“Yes, but I also believe as long as a person’s spirit is in their body, they have a right, a privilege, and an obligation to live to the best of their abilities.”
Lacy snorts. “My dad wasn’t living. Not really.”
Hannah shoves a forkful of potatoes into her mouth.
“What do you think her dad would have said about her attempted suicide?”
“I know he would have begged her not to give up.” Her voice cracks as she blinks back tears. “Life is worth living, in all of its forms, because we never know when things might get better, or what we’ll learn from the hard times.”
“What made you think of using the jeans and your belt to form a sort of rope system?”
She shrugs. “The lack of available rope.”
“Final question, what would you say to the people that think you should have let her end her life?”
“I would tell them I’d do it the same way again. I, and everyone else that loves Lacy, am thankful she’s still here. She’s not my blood, but she’s my sister.”
Thank you for reading, and a HUGE thank you to those who asked questions! Happy Thanksgiving to one and all(both in and out of the USA)! I’m thankful for my readers.