Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)

by Chloe Liese

Staring at the book, I lift it off the nightstand and softly flip through the pages. Something about the moment triggers old memories—the sounds of medical equipment, the sight of a hospital bed, a book, clasped in my hand. I remember Nana, who spent her final months here in this same room, years ago. I remember my small self, curled up with her, proudly reading to her from my board books. A strange, terrifying idea takes hold of my thoughts. Carefully, I scoot closer to Joy’s bed. Hands shaking, I open the book and turn to the earmarked page, Chapter 32. My breath catches in my throat when a gentle touch startles me. Joy’s hand rests on my wrist as if she senses what I’m about to do. “Take a deep breath,” she says. I do. A slow, long inhale. “And out.” I release a steady exhale. Silence stretches as I stare at the page. Then I shut my eyes, and for the first time in over two years, I try to speak. But my throat catches before I can. I clear it roughly, taking another deep breath. My stomach presses, air rushes up my throat, and the long-forgotten feeling of sound vibrating through my neck and head startles me as I say, “E-Elizabeth was sitting by he-herself, the next morning—” Tears blur my vision as I hear my voice. Scratchy. A little wobbly. Quieter. Different than I remember. But still … mine. I palm my eyes before they can spill over. My voice sticks as I begin to read again. I swallow and take another deep breath. Joy’s hand squeezes mine encouragingly. I squeeze her...

nah cause ill cry

WITH ONE EAR PRESSED TO A CRACK IN THE DOOR, MY EYES scrunched shut in concentration. That’s the first time I hear the words spoken out loud. My mother is dying. I’ve refused to acknowledge it, but I’ve known. Subliminally, I knew why she was leaving the hospital, but hearing it, thinking it is so much more painful.

FORKKKKKK