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NETWORK

Lark

How can we come back from this when you left me in the dark?

You left me in the dark.

But I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop wanting you.

I scratch through the last few lines of text and close my notebook, placing it back in my bag as I watch through the window of my aunt’s room. I’ve never been so blocked with a song before. It’s like I just can’t figure out what to say. I can’t hear the notes that should come naturally. I’d like to think it’s because I’m tired. So fucking tired. But I know it’s not just that. In the last ten days since we went to my parents’ place, Lachlan has crept into my thoughts, into my daily life. He makes coffee and breakfast every morning. He brings me little things every night, as though he thinks they might help me sleep. A silk eye mask. He blushed when he gave me that. An incense diffuser. Tonight, he’ll make me a cup of chamomile tea and hand it to me with a haunted look in his eyes, just like he does every night. He’ll disappear into his room and then we’ll do the whole thing all over again tomorrow, over and over until we die.

But one thing Lachlan hasn’t done? Apologize. And I can’t seem to let go of those first moments we met. My hurt still festers, and maybe I just need him to open that wound. But he won’t.

“Well, fuck him,” I whisper and lean back in my chair.

“Yes, fuck him. I need to live vicariously through someone and Ava’s love life is boring. I’m half-convinced that husband of hers is a robot,” Ethel says.

A surprised gasp leaves my lips as I sit up straighter and look toward my aunt. She shoots me a devious grin before she raises the back of her bed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say.

“You didn’t. I’ve been watching you stare out that window for the last ten minutes. That Kane boy getting under your skin?”

Though I roll my eyes at the teasing spark in my aunt’s voice, heat still creeps into my cheeks. “He’s trying.”

Ethel nods and coughs but waves me off when I rise to help her with water or tissues. This time her cough takes a long while to subside. Unease burns in my guts. Guilt creeps into my veins. She’s been so lively with all the scheming lately, but maybe it’s taken too much out of her. She suddenly looks so frail, pain etched across her crinkled skin.

Despite her protests, I press the call button for the nurse, who enters a moment later, followed by a doctor, who comes in while the fit still rumbles on. The doctor maintains her professional detachment when she tells me they’re going to administer an IV for pain relief and antibiotics to prevent secondary infection, but I’ve been around facilities like this long enough to know that the prognosis of Ethel’s cancer is grim, and this might be the fast deterioration of a disease my aunt refuses to treat.

Ethel’s cough dissipates as they ready the fluids and prepare the cannula. “I don’t like needles,” my aunt says, her eyes darting toward the door to her room and holding there. I’m about to follow her gaze when she grabs my hand. “Sing to me for a distraction, girl.”

“What would you like?”

A melancholy smile lifts my aunt’s lips. “The one you sang at our anniversary party.”

It’s hard to believe it wasn’t even a year ago.

My aunt and uncle danced beneath the patio lights we strung up in the tent. They looked into each other’s eyes as I started to sing and I thought, I wonder how much love is out there like that, really. I wonder if I’ll ever find it. And if I do, I hope I deserve it.

And now I think, Maybe we don’t find it. It doesn’t just appear. It’s not fantasy, not a fairy tale. We make choices, note after note, chord after chord, until we create it.

I lean down and place a kiss on my aunt’s cheek before I clear my throat and sing:

I can’t give you anything but love, baby

That’s the only thing I’ve plenty of, baby

Scheme awhile, dream awhile

We’re sure to find

Happiness and I guess

All those things you’ve always pined for

Gee, I’d like to see you looking swell, baby.

The nurse slides the cannula into the vein and my aunt never flinches. She keeps her eyes on me and I don’t even finish the song before she says, “Doll, go and get me a candy from the reception desk, would you? I like those hard caramels.”

I scrunch my face in a question but my aunt just pulls her hand free of mine to flick me away.

“All right, Auntie,” I reply with a shake of my head. “You’re so demanding, you know that, right?”

“Less talk. More candy.”

I give Ethel a bemused grin and slide off the bed as the nurse checks the pump and the doctor reviews her chart.

And when I turn from the room to join the corridor that leads to the reception desk, Lachlan is there, head lowered, one hand raised to his forehead as he strides toward the doors like he can’t get out of here fast enough.

“Lachlan.”

He halts instantly, but he doesn’t turn around. I’ve stopped too, waiting for something, maybe a reaction or a word or even movement, but Lachlan remains tense and still.

“Hey, Lachlan,” I say, and take a few steps closer. He shifts his head enough to show that he’s listening, but not enough for me to see his face. “Everything okay …?”

There’s a long pause before he nods.

“You sure?”

Lachlan clears his throat, but he doesn’t turn around. He only gives me the corner of his eye before he looks away. “Came in to say Leander needs me. You can come too if you’re free. I can give you a ride, if you want. Or if you want to stay, I can take your guitar so you don’t have to carry it.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” I say, though I immediately regret it and take a step closer. “I’ll stay awhile. I’m leaving the guitar here today so the therapist on shift tomorrow can borrow it.”

“Oh.” Lachlan sniffs and nods, and a little fissure in my heart splits open.

“Are you sure you’re—”

“I’ve gotta go.” He grips the back of his neck, the missing tip of his finger more obvious against the collar of his cream knit sweater. Tattoos and rings cover his scars, ones that I’ve felt when I’ve taken his hand. Lachlan gives me a nod, but it seems like more of an affirmation to himself than it does to me. “Leander will get impatient. And impatient Leander turns into weird Leander.”

“Okay. Text me the address. When I’m done here, I’ll get an Uber and meet you there. We can talk to him about … stuff. My family stuff.”

One final nod, like that’s all he’s capable of, and then Lachlan strides through the lobby and into brisk autumn wind. I watch as the Charger departs, and then I grab a fistful of candies for Ethel.

When I take them back to my aunt’s room, she’s pretending to be asleep.

“You’re hilarious,” I deadpan as I dump the candies on her blanket. “I know you’re faking. You snore when you sleep. Loudly, I might add.”

“Do not,” she says without opening her eyes. “You didn’t go with him.”

“Obviously.”

“Why not?”

“I’m busy here.”

“Well I don’t want you, girl. I need my beauty rest. And I’m assuming your husband needs something if he came in here.”

I cross my arms and glare down at Ethel, though she still hasn’t opened her eyes. “He said I can go to his boss’s house today, but he hasn’t sent me directions.”

One cloudy eye cracks open and scrutinizes me before Ethel reaches beneath her pillow and pulls out a phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Texting your husband so I can get some peace and quiet.”

“How do you have his number?”