Chapter 3

Episode 8 - Normal Run of Things

Brady hesitated for a second in front of the closed door, not wanting to wake anyone who might still be only half asleep after all the noise. But it wasn’t like he could barge into her room without warning, and letting his sight follow his hearing through the walls would be just as bad. He tapped the door as lightly as he could, and from the sudden pause in Rachelle’s uneven breaths, he was sure she’d heard it, even though she didn’t answer.

“Rachelle?” He left the word the softest whisper he could manage, but the gulps, the sniffs, the forced deep breaths proclaimed clearly that she could still hear—and that she was trying to erase every trace of inconvenient emotion before answering. Brady’s heart broke a little more, and he had to swallow a lump in his own throat before trying again. “I can hear you.” He had to bite back the sweet pet name he would have used for Grace in the same situation. Was that his mom talking, or just the protective instincts that had been screaming in his brain from the moment he identified the soft whimpers? “Can I come in, please?”

Whether she would have surrendered if he hadn’t pointed out that her attempt at concealment was worthless, Brady couldn’t tell, but after a moment of indecisive silence, she offered a murmured “yes” that even his advanced hearing had to strain to catch.

When he opened the door, Rachelle was curled on her side, facing away, in a position that had to be uncomfortable regardless of her unusual range of motion. Brady instinctively reached out but quickly drew his hand back, not wanting to accidentally hurt her by brushing what might be an abnormally painful spot. After a few seconds of thought, he moved to the rocking chair at the foot of her bed and settled into it before turning to face her closed eyes and the tears still trickling down her cheeks.

“You too, huh?” His only goal had been to encourage her to talk, but he certainly hadn’t expected her sharp gasp and the way she tried to raise herself on her elbow before sinking back with a groan. “Hey, whoa, Chelle! Take it easy.”

“So—sorry.” The words were choked out through a renewed flood of tears, and Brady had to grip the arms of the chair tightly to keep from reaching for her hand.

“Rachelle, listen to me. I don’t know how much of that you heard, but none of it’s on you. I wasn’t blaming you for it even before I knew you had a flare. What on earth could you have done differently when you can’t get out of bed any more than I could?”

“Should’ve set it to—default to Harper.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. Because you know she’s had a rough week, and you’d feel just as bad if you sent it to her and she couldn’t answer. The nurses are supposed to be a safe option, and it’s not your fault this one didn’t follow orders. Besides, God had Marcus right there and awake exactly when I needed him. We’re all spoiled with how much you’re there for us, but none of us expects you to be there a hundred percent of the time. You couldn’t do that if you were perfectly healthy; please don’t put it on yourself with everything else you have to deal with.”

Rachelle sucked in a few shaky breaths and rubbed her head against her pillowcase, probably attempting to wipe away some of the more obvious tears.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, and Brady swallowed a sigh and leaned forward to meet her red, swollen eyes.

“What for this time?”

“For the tears—I know I shouldn’t—”

“Chelle…” Brady shook his head as she made another ineffective attempt to wipe her face without the use of her hands. “You’re allowed to have emotions. Even messy ones. I grew up with a sister, remember? It’s not a sin to cry. Especially with everything piled on top of each other like it is today.”

“I know.” Rachelle choked the words, and Brady sighed.

“Yeah, I’m not sure you do. I’ll get the doctor for you as soon as she’s back—want to talk about it before or after?”

“I don’t even…” Rachelle trailed off with another sob, then sucked in a shaking breath. “I’m such a mess right now. I’m not even sure what—I mean, I was crying before—”

“Before I called. Because of Grace’s party?”

“Yes. And I knew all along it could happen, but—”

“But you’re allowed to be disappointed. And it’s allowed to hurt. You wouldn’t judge any of the rest of us for this. Please don’t take it out on yourself.”

“I just hoped—so much.” Rachelle buried her face in the pillow again, and her shoulders convulsed with another wave of emotion.

“I know you did. And that’s not wrong. Believe me, I’ve tried living life wanting nothing because I might not get it, and it’s absolutely awful. You can hope for things—and grieve things. It’s perfectly normal. You’re so strong for everyone all the time. Crying doesn’t have to be weak, and if it is, you’re allowed to be weak once in a while.”

“It’s not even about the party—or Shavonne—or things going perfectly. I just wanted to—to be there for her—with her. To be part of it.”

“I know. And it’s hard. It’s allowed to be. Feeling that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. And showing it won’t make us think less of you.”

“Not a good witness, though.” Rachelle sniffed before pulling in a hitching breath. “I know it doesn’t—matter to you, but—”

“Says who? The pain isn’t wrong, Rachelle. And acknowledging it isn’t wrong. The fact that your body hurts doesn’t make you a bad Christian—you know that. And I know you wouldn’t say crying from those aches makes you a bad witness. So why is it different with the pain in your heart? Giving into it—getting bitter—letting it rob your faith—those are wrong. Not the hurt itself. Not admitting your feelings are complicated sometimes. Not acknowledging you can be human while living with hope. That’s not a bad witness. It’s an honest one. And maybe it’s something they need to see sometimes.”

Rachelle was quiet for a long moment, and Brady waited, suddenly wondering if he’d been wise to address such a deep topic while she was not only struggling so hard emotionally but also still in such overwhelming physical pain. But finally she swallowed hard and gave a tiny nod.

“Maybe—maybe you’re right.”

It was more than enough of an acknowledgement, and Brady wished again that he could hug her, or squeeze her hand, or do something to show her the physical comfort she so often provided to him. Instead, he turned his hearing toward the ceiling again and couldn’t help a sigh at the sound of Dr. Mattox’s voice still lecturing the unfortunate nurse.

“All right?” Rachelle’s voice was still shaky, still fragile, but she somehow couldn’t stop herself from looking out for him, even in the middle of her own pain.

“I’m fine, Chelle. Just really hoping Dr. Mattox wraps this up soon so I can get her down here for you. I’d try to go signal her now, but I feel like if this nurse saw me up there, she’d either get extremely suspicious or never believe a thing we say again.”

“Please don’t.” Rachelle groaned. “I can manage until—until she’s done. Not worth putting yourself—all of us—in danger for.”

“I know. I’m waiting. I just really hope she hurries. You do want the shot today, right?”

“Yes.” Rachelle’s tone was a little hesitant, but a note of resignation had crept into it. “If I can’t—can’t be there for Grace—maybe I can at least be a little useful—to someone.”

“No chance you could go to the party with your powers?”

“Yeah, no, I’d better not try.” Rachelle’s laugh trembled a little, but it was definitely there, and Brady’s heart warmed a little at the sound. “Trying to deal with that kind of chaos and not lose control? Way too many potential pitfalls. And it’s not like I’m not legitimately sick today, so I’m not ducking out on something I would be able to do. What time is it?”

Brady instinctively craned his neck to see her clock around her scattered pillows before realizing that he could look through them even more easily.

“Almost three.”

“Way too early to call Shavonne. Or text her, probably—I don’t want to risk waking her up. I’ll talk to her at a reasonable hour. And like I said—she can handle it—it’s the whole reason we set it up this way. God’ll work it out.”

“Yeah. He will. But it’s okay to take a minute to get there—or to know it and still cry a little. For next time, okay?”

“Okay.” Rachelle swallowed hard again, but the corners of her lips fluttered up just a little. “Thanks, Brady. It’s so early—do you need to go back to bed?”

“Nope. Not till Dr. Mattox comes back for you anyway. And maybe not then either. You want the company, or should I wait in the common?”

“No.” Rachelle sighed softly. “If you’re okay and don’t mind it—it’s nice to have you here.”