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Sara stared at the letter in her hands, not really seeing it through her tears. She was furious with her brother. His stupid stubbornness had gotten him killed, and as much as Sara had wished for some space from her overbearing brother, she had never wanted this much space from him.
She’d known about his hanahaki, the flowers that bloomed in his lungs. When it first started, she was perfectly happy to let him have his secret, hoping that over time it would lead to healthier boundaries between them as he found love and a life of his own. As it got worse, and he steadfastly refused to tell her who it was, she got frustrated with him. Michele’s explanation was that he felt it was his problem to deal with, that he knew the person did not feel the same way, and he never wanted them to feel obligated to return his feelings or guilty about his condition. Sara found that difficult to believe; he’d never shown her the same consideration.
Now he was dead. There was no more chance of him coming to his senses and getting his flowers removed if his person would never love him back, or successfully wooing the person. There wasn’t much chance of getting a proper explanation, unless it was in the letter Emil handed her.
“Do you know who it was?” Sara asked, staring at the letter. “Who killed him?”
“I do,” Emil said as gently as he could. “He told me all about it about a month ago, when he realized he didn’t have much longer to live and wanted to get my thoughts on some things. I don’t necessarily agree with his decisions, but they were his, not mine.” He reached out and put his hands over hers, holding the letter. “Listen. Michele left this letter for you to read if you really couldn’t let it go, if you really needed the closure on it… but he didn’t want you to read it if you didn’t have to. If I were you, I’d throw that letter in a drawer somewhere, unopened. It will be there later, if time doesn’t help you move forward, but once you read it there are things you can never unknow. Okay?”
“I’ll think about it,” Sara promised. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. She would give it consideration. She just knew. She was going to be reading this letter.
Dear Sara,
If you’re reading this, Emil has probably told you that he thinks you shouldn’t. Don’t be mad at him. He’s the one who convinced me to leave the letter for you to read in the first place, instead of him just keeping an eye on you and telling you if time didn’t help you heal.
I’ve told you my reasons for why I won’t tell the person I love who they are. I’ve told you that I won’t get surgery because forgetting that person would likely cause even more pain than my death. The fact that you never realized the truth should indicate why you shouldn’t know. I know you hate the idea of me making this decision for you, but I really don’t see how I could have done anything else.
Sara, it’s you. It’s always been you. I won’t blame you for assuming the reason I chased off any boy who showed an interest in you was jealousy instead of overprotectiveness, and the truth is, I can’t be easy in my own mind that jealousy had nothing to do with it. I love you, and although I know I could never have crossed those lines, I won’t deny that the thought of someone else getting what I wanted but couldn’t have was not a good one. However much you hate me now, I accept that. I know how horrible this must be to learn.
If you’re still reading this, you know why I kept this secret. You must realize why I couldn’t bear the thought of the surgery, of forgetting you even as my sister. Why I never wanted you to know the truth at all, why I thought it better for you to live with never knowing than live with knowing that the person you hated so much was yourself, that I was right to keep the secret after all.
Since I’ll never confess alive, I’ll do it once more here. I love you, Sara. You are all I can imagine, everything I ever wanted. I’m so sorry.
Mickey
All Sara could do was sob into her pillow. It felt like it would go on forever. When she finally managed to stop, she headed for the bathroom to wash her face. Staring in the mirror at her brother’s killer was hard. It got a little easier when she noticed a spot of purple on her cheek, and her investigating hand came away with a hyacinth petal.