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At least that’s the hope and why we all shell out a five-figure fee each month.
“How is she today?” The check-in desk is an imposing monstrosity, so at odds with the rest of the campus.
The day nurse, Tara, quickly turns the volume on her computer down where the news was playing and greets me with a warm smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfe. Olivia’s having a good day. She had breakfast with some friends and even made it to art class.” I hate how they always sound so cheerful when they talk about my sister’s condition, like she’s actually living her life. We all know she’s hand fed pureed food because she can’t do it herself. And art class? She just sits there, doing nothing. I know they mean well, and the words are meant to encourage, but all they do is piss me off. Olivia is a bright and beautiful woman, at least she’s supposed to be. And she would be. If not for them. “Thanks. Where is she?”
Tara’s smile falls just a little, which is no surprise. “In her room.”
Exactly. For all the upbeat status reports and signs of encouragement, Olivia is still as withdrawn today as she was almost sixteen years ago when she arrived. She’s still in a state of catatonia that makes it impossible to gauge whether any of the treatments are working. She’s not responding to any kind of stimuli, not walking and not even fucking smiling.
“Thanks.” I know the path to Olivia’s room as well as I know my way around my office or any of my homes. She’s been living here longer than she’s lived anywhere else since before our parents died. This is her home.
I stop outside the door of her private room, neatly decorated in a blend of modern thirty-year-old woman and mentally stunted teenage girl. She sits by the window in her wheelchair, staring out at the green courtyard. Silently. Always so fucking silent.
It’s been so many years—fifteen years, nine months, three weeks, and four days to be exact—since I’ve heard her voice, I’m not sure I’d recognize it. But I’ll always remember the very last thing she said to me before she stopped speaking. I’ll never forget. My hands bunch into fists, but I force them to relax. Anger isn’t what Olivia needs to see.
“Hey, Olivia.”
She tenses at the sound of my voice, and that’s the only sign that she hears me. Olivia doesn’t turn, smile, or acknowledge me in any way.
“Can I come in?”
She says nothing, as usual, and I step inside.
I look around and notice a few new sketches hanging on the wall. One is of Olivia and the other is a charcoal sketch of a man. “Is that me?”
She says nothing, but I swear there’s a flash of something in her eyes as if she’s trying to answer. She doesn’t move, but her closest friend, if that’s what you can call Chelsie, is a chronically depressed artist who fills my sister’s room with art.
That one small act makes me feel better about everything, so I appreciate Chelsie for that. I know I’m on the right path—not that I ever had any doubt—but those glimpses of the woman Olivia was meant to be push me forward.
“It’s really good. But I think I’m more handsome in person. Don’t you?”
Her big blue eyes stare at me, assessing me, but she never utters a word.
I often wonder if she can hear me at all or if I’m just talking to myself. It doesn’t matter because I’ll never stop. I’ll never stop visiting her. Avenging her.
“It’s really good,” I say, pointing to the sketch. “I can almost feel the texture of your hair,” I tell her honestly. “Your eyes are sadder here than when I look at you.” I wonder if Chelsie sees something in my sister that I can’t because this sketch reminds me of the old Olivia.
I wish she could talk. I wish she could tell me what she’s thinking, what’s happening inside her head. I’d give anything to hear her speak again, to get on my nerves like every other big sister on the planet. To give me shit about my lack of a love life or my long hours at the office.
Soon, I promise myself.
“Want to go for a walk around the grounds? It’s warm and sunny, and you could use some color.”
She sits in her wheelchair, staring at me with no display of emotion, just waiting—presumably—for me to start our walk.
I push her through the winding paths that weave through the property, passing sculpted bushes, vibrant flowers and tropical plants as we weave through the beautiful campus. I talk while Olivia listens. Or at least I think she’s listening.
“I met a woman,” I say, then quickly add, “but don’t worry. I’ll still be your biggest fan. I’ll still come see you and make sure you have the best care.”
I don’t know if she can hear me, but I keep talking. “She’s beautiful, with thick, wavy brown hair and big brown eyes. She’s strong and tough, a real badass.” I smile, thinking about Frankie. “She’s not impressed with my money or my good looks.”
The ocean comes into view, and I take a long breath, taking in its beauty. I bring the wheelchair to stop at a vista point so my sister can enjoy the view.
“I’ve got some more good news.” I kneel and look into her eyes. “Do you recall the tech firm I launched years back? Well, it’s thriving.” I slide a stray strand of hair from her face, longing for her reply.
“I’ve teamed up with a top-tier neuroscientist, the best there is, and together, we’ve created an advanced brain training program designed specifically for you.”
I hold her hand tightly, wishing my words could get through to her. “This is truly state-of-the-art, sis.”
