Club Storyville
pain.

 
    Chapter Five
    N an allowed Ariel’s close monitoring, but she didn’t want her life saved when it was time for it to be over. She didn’t want doctors called in, or to be put into a hospital.
    Ariel didn’t tell me that. I overheard Mama and Daddy talking about it one night, Mama’s voice coated thicker with sadness than I expected, seeing as she and Nan barely got along.
    “No use meddling with death,” Nan responded when I asked her why she would make such a decision. “It just keeps coming, and it always wins in the end.”
    “I always thought you’d live forever,” I whispered, and her laugh turned to a cough that had Ariel rushing over to check on her, before tapering into a wheezing sound that made me want to cry the tears Nan wouldn’t.
    “I don’t want to live forever,” Nan declared. “I just want to live well while I’m here. A beating heart doesn’t mean a life worth having. Isn’t that right, Ariel?”
    “Yes, Ma’am,” Ariel replied, and it sounded as if she was giving her consent.
    Watching her walk off again, leaving Nan and I alone at the bed, anger boiled inside me, and, without thinking, I pushed to my feet to trail Ariel to the window. Looking back over my shoulder to make sure we were far enough that Nan couldn’t hear, when I turned back to Ariel, she looked bothered, like she didn’t want to be even that alone with me.
    “You agree with her?” I asked, but Ariel’s eyes never moved from whatever she was staring at on the other side of the glass. “You want to just let her die?”
    “I don’t want her to die,” Ariel returned in a firm whisper, “but I can’t stop that. I can let her do it with as much control and dignity as possible.”
    “So, she could die tomorrow,” I announced, and when Ariel pulled her eyes from the window to glance beyond me, I knew to lower my voice. “Or she could live three more months, and you’re saying tomorrow is okay?”
    “It’s what she wants,” Ariel returned.
    “That’s not right,” I uttered. All those Sunday school teachings about the sanctity of life and appreciating what God gave us, I thought I understood what they meant. So young, I thought I could fathom the pains of old age, the fear of poor health, and I couldn’t imagine a single reason alive would ever be worse than dead. “I’m going to tell her it’s not right,” I declared. “She should do everything she can to stay alive.”
    Whirling away, I forced Ariel’s hand, which shot out to catch my arm and prevent my intervention. “Don’t pressure her.” Her eyes were stern as they finally landed on me. “She will do what you want.”
    “I’m glad,” I returned, trying to break away, but Ariel engaged her other hand to keep me from asking Nan for something I didn’t understand I had no right to ask of her.
    “She’s tired, Elizabeth,” her voice gentled, her eyes filling with tears as her hands turned softer on my arms. “She’s hurting. Let her go.”
    At the time, I didn’t recognize it as some of the best advice I would ever be given, to know when to hold on and when to open my hands to set someone free. All I knew was Ariel’s hands were entrancing where they slid up and down my arms, her eyes peered through the wall that had formed between us, and the light pouring through the window made her look radiant.
    Realizing how much I wanted her to kiss me, right there in front of Nan and God and the transparent glass through which the entire world might see, I stepped out of her touch and tried to draw elusive breath.
    “I should go help Mama with dinner,” I raised my voice so Nan would hear my excuse to escape.
    “What time will your brother be here?” Ariel asked.
    “Around five,” I said, and she nodded as if to say she would have Nan ready.
    Turning to look at Nan, she was much too curious where she watched us from the bed, and I wondered how much she had seen, if she knew we were talking about her, and then that I had almost

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