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cry that escaped her mouth. I squeezed her tight, wishing I could take away her pain.
    “It’s okay,” I whispered against her hair. “It’s okay.”
    After the sobs subsided, she pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “Three months after you left, Mom’s cancer spread to her brain. She died six days later.”
    I rested my armpits on my crutches and placed my hands on either side of her face, brushing the tears away with my thumbs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
    She glanced up at me and tried to force a smile, but her face crumbled as she spoke. “It’s okay.”
    “So what happened? To you? Your brother?”
    She took a deep breath. “When Mom got sick, I enrolled at Farmingdale State, thinking I could go to classes at night when she was sleeping. And I did. But when she died, it just didn’t work out. I was eighteen, Justin was sixteen. What was I supposed to do? I dropped out and went from being a sister to a mom. I got this job and have been working to pay the bills ever since. It was easier when Justin was around. I had somebody. But he left for school the last week of August. Because of our situation he got grants and financial aid. Pretty much covered everything. Now . . . now I’m alone. My job and house are all I have left.”
    I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. She once told me there were three people she loved. Her mom, her brother, and me. Within three months she lost two of them. I hated myself for walking away so easily, leaving the ball in her glove. I should’ve fought harder for her. If I’d only made another phone call. Stopped at her house one more time. Showed her how badly I wanted to make it work.
    “I wish I’d been there for you.”
    She shook her head. “No. It’s okay. You were exactly where you needed to be.”
    “Was I? Because that first year all I thought about was you. I admit that over time I was able to let you go, but you still popped into my mind. I wanted to call you. See how you were and what you were up to. Now I wish I had.”
    “It’s better you didn’t. I became a mom overnight and I had to be the rock. Justin needed to lean on me and I needed to be strong for him.”
    “You could’ve still been strong for him even if you were leaning on someone else.”
    “No, I couldn’t. If I let myself fall apart I never would’ve been able to pull myself back together.”
    “I would’ve helped you.”
    She threw her arms down and stepped back. “I know,” she whispered.
    I closed the gap she created. “Then why didn’t you call me?”
    She ran her fingers through her hair. Emotion darkened her eyes. “I was scared.”
    “Of what?”
    “Hearing your voice. It was always the one thing that would undo me. I was able to hold myself together, but I knew if I saw you and you asked me what was wrong, I would crumble. I was scared of crumbling and not having you there to catch the pieces.
    “I relied on you for so much that summer, and when you were gone, I had to learn to do it on my own. I didn’t cry. At the hospital. At the funeral. When they turned the electricity off because I couldn’t afford to pay it. I didn’t cry. I hadn’t cried in two years . . . then I saw you the other day and that barrier I built came crashing down.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn’t stop. “I controlled myself until I got home, and then I lost it. I cried enough to make up for the past two years. Your questions . . . I couldn’t handle them. I didn’t want to cry in front of you.”
    I held my hand out to her. “Come here.”
    She looked down at my hand then back up at me. “I don’t want to cry,” she said.
    “I hate to break it to you.” I limped towards her and placed my hands on either side of her cheeks, running my thumbs under her eyes. “But I think you’re a little too late on that one.” The corner of her lip tugged and I touched the spot. “Was that a smile?”
    “Maybe.”
    I wrapped my arms around her and kissed