Chapter 3: The Hospital Room
The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and lemon, and Eleanor was lying in the bed, her skin thin and pale, her hair white and wispy. Jake walked in first, his shoulders hunched, and Lila followed behind him, clutching Mr. Whiskers to her chest. Tom was sitting in a chair next to the bed, and he stood up when he saw them, his face sad.
“Jake,” he said, and Jake nodded, not saying a word. He walked over to the bed and stood next to Eleanor, and Lila stayed back, hiding behind Jake’s leg. Eleanor opened her eyes, and she smiled, a weak, wobbly smile.
“Jake,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m so sorry. For everything. For Clara, for the dinner table, for the way I treated you.”
Jake’s jaw tightened. “Why did you do it?” he asked. “Why did you blame Lila for the wine glass? Why did you make Clara leave?”
Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears. “I was scared,” she said. “Scared that the family would fall apart, scared that no one would respect me, scared that I wasn’t good enough. I took my fear out on everyone else. I was a terrible wife, a terrible mother, a terrible grandmother. I’m so sorry.”
She reached out and took Lila’s hand, and Lila flinched, but she didn’t pull away. “Lila,” Eleanor said, “I never meant to hurt you. I just wanted you to learn how to be strong, how to follow the rules. I was wrong. You don’t have to follow the rules. You don’t have to be like me.”
Lila looked at Jake, and he nodded, so she sat down next to the bed. “Did you kill my mom?” she asked, and Eleanor’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t kill her,” she said. “She left because she couldn’t take it anymore. She said she couldn’t raise you in a house where you were always afraid. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry, Lila. I’m so sorry.”
Lila didn’t know what to say. She’d spent years thinking her mom had left her, that she didn’t love her, but now she understood that it wasn’t true. Her mom had left because she loved her, because she didn’t want Lila to grow up in a house where she was always walking on eggshells. She leaned over and hugged Eleanor, and for a second, Lila felt like she could forgive her, like the cycle could finally break.
Then, Eleanor’s eyes closed, and she took her last breath. Tom stood up and walked out of the room, and Jake sat down next to Lila, holding her tight. Lila looked at the clock on the wall, and she realized it was exactly ten years to the day that Clara had left. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled letter she’d found on the kitchen table two years earlier, the one with the words The cycle doesn’t end with you scrawled on it. She’d kept it ever since, folded up in her backpack, and now she held it in her hand, watching the ink fade in the hospital room light.
That night, Jake and Lila stayed in the old Hawthorne house, sleeping in the guest room that had once been Clara’s. Lila couldn’t sleep, so she snuck down to the dining room, where the oak table was still polished to a high shine, the crystal glassware sitting on the shelves behind the glass doors. She pulled out a chair and sat down, and she pulled Mr. Whiskers out of her bag, setting him next to her.
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She thought about Eleanor, about the way she’d apologized, about the way she’d said she was scared. She thought about Clara, about the way she’d left, about the way she’d loved her. She thought about the cycle, about the words that had haunted her for so long, and she realized that she didn’t have to be part of it. She didn’t have to blame people for things they didn’t do, she didn’t have to walk on eggshells, she didn’t have to be afraid.
She stood up and walked over to the shelves, pulling out a single crystal wine glass. She carried it over to the table and set it down, and she picked up the bottle of pinot noir that was sitting on the counter, pouring a small glass. She didn’t break it. She just held it in her hand, watching the red wine shimmer in the chandelier light, and she whispered, “I’m not sorry.”
