Splinters of Light by Rachael Herron Page B

“Oh, I just
love
you. Johnny—that’s my boyfriend right there—hey, Johnny, I
told
you it was her! I
told
him it was you. We’re from Spokane, and I read your column every week. You look so much
younger
than your picture in the paper looks. Oh, my
god
. Is that Ellie? Johnny, that’s Ellie! From the book! Hi, Ellie!”
    With a cheery and very fake smile, Ellie waved on her way outside.
    “You’re just so
funny
. You know? Like that story about the stray chicken who got into your house. Remember that? Can you say something funny? Johnny, she’s going to say something funny. Watch. She’s hilarious.”
    Nora felt herself blush. “Oh . . .”
    Mariana stepped forward. “I’m the sister. Yep. The twin.” She shook hands with the woman and her boyfriend. “I know she’d love to spend more time getting acquainted but Nora here has the whooping cough.”
    Nora tried to make a coughing sound but it came out more like a manic yawn.
    “Highly contagious.”
    The woman covered her mouth with her hand.
    “So we’ll just head outside where she can breathe a little better, and hey, Happy Easter to you!”
    “Whooping cough?” asked Nora as they headed outside.
    Mariana shrugged. “I heard about it on NPR. Making a comeback.”
    Under the cold, gray sky, Nora and Mariana watched Elliescramble on the rocks. She couldn’t go out far—people weren’t allowed out of the safely prescribed area—but she went as far as she could, and then, of course, a few feet farther.
    “She’s so tall,” said Mariana, her hands wrapped around her paper coffee cup. “Almost as tall as us now.”
    Nora didn’t answer. There was something stuck in her windpipe, something that had swept in off the bay and was choking her.
    Mariana sidled closer on the bench. Their thighs and shoulders touched. “Tell me.”
    “I can’t.” The words were a whisper.
    “I know it’s not nothing. Your eyes have that look they had . . . when Mom died. And as far as I know, no one’s died. And you’re not looking at me.”
    “I am, too.” But Nora knew Mariana was right. Since they’d met Mariana at the dock, Nora hadn’t really met her sister’s eyes. She couldn’t.
    “It can’t be that bad.”
    “It is.”
    “Oh, no.” Mariana turned and faced her. “Just tell me.”
    Nora stared.
    “Cancer,” Mariana said. “Is that it? We can’t have it. We’re too young.”
    The
we
was what made Nora stand up. They weren’t together in this. They
couldn’t
be. That was the whole point. Statistics bashed around inside Nora’s head like heavy moths trying to get out. Nora knew so much now, terms she hadn’t ever seen before: autosomal dominant, penetrance, presenilin-1, receptor binding, secretases.
    It all added up to one thing: Mariana had to get tested, as quickly as possible. With the PS1 mutation, Mariana had a fifty-fifty chance of having EOAD.
    So did Ellie.
    It was too much.
    Nora put one hand at her waist and the other over her stomach. “Alzheimer’s,” she gasped.
    Looking confused, Mariana said, “Who?”
    At the fence line, Ellie hopped from one broken chunk of concrete to another one. She crouched as if looking for tide pools, even though there couldn’t be any, not up so high.
    “Me.”
    Mariana gave a surprised yip that turned into a laugh. “Oh, my god, you just scared me so much.”
    Nora stared at her. She should have written this out. She should have had notes that she could refer to, so she could keep going. “No . . .”
    “You’re terrible.” Mariana grinned wider. “I really thought you were sick.”
    “Early-onset.”
    Mariana barely looked at her, her eyes on Ellie. “What?”
    “It starts early.”
    “Honey! I’m supposed to be the one who exaggerates problems! We’re forty-four. We forget things now. It’s normal. It happens to everyone. Deep breath.”
    “No.”
    “You worry too much.” Mariana brushed away a strand of hair from Nora’s face. “Ow.” She laughed. “That’s my