Pictures

Click.
I adjusted my party hat and flashed a smile at the camera.“Not yet,” my sister said, leaning across the table. “I haven’t lit the candles.”
Dad threw up his hands in exasperation. “Are we going to eat this thing before Rylan’s next birthday?”
“I heard that.”
Elia fiddled with the lighter, her hands trembling. My fingers itched to pry it from her, but I could see it in her furrowed brow and set jaw. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
“Elia, sweetheart,” my dad said, clearing his throat. “Perhaps one of us could – ” 
He trailed off, squirming under her glare.
“I’m not going to quit when things get hard, Dad.”
I grinned. Classic Eli – stubborn as a mule, even on her worst day. Dad shrugged and took a place at the table. 
Ten minutes later, she straightened up and patted her headscarf into place. “See? Not too bad.”
Mom and I glanced at each other, while Dad fingered a crack in the table. The candles stood askew in icing, faint flames quivering.
“Alright,” she said, both hands raised. “I surrender. Next birthday, Dad’s lighting the candles.”
“Not your birthday,” he said, gasping in mock horror. “I don’t know if I can handle all 21.”
Elia shook her head, but the hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
We gathered at the head of the table, toothy smiles plastered on our faces. “Ready. Whenever you are.”
She squinted at the camera screen. “Rylan, move the cake toward you. Mom, scooch closer. Dad, at least try to look excited. Okay.” 
She darted to the head of the table and squeezed me close. “Happy birthday, Ry.”
Click.***Click.
I rested my head on Elia’s shoulder, my lips stretched into a wan smile.
“Take another one, Dad,” she said. “I don’t want the hospital bed in our family albums.”
“You didn’t even see it,” Dad protested.
“Just do it.” 
With a sigh, Dad snapped another picture.
"There,” she said. “Send that one to Mom.”
I felt a prick of resentment as Dad jabbed the phone, no doubt chatting with Mom about her latest adventure. Carefree Mom, with her carefreelife, traveling the world while I sat in a hospital room.A wave of guilt swept over me. She deserved it, of course. Elia had wanted her to go. She’d forced her to go – packed her bags, scheduled herflights, even drove her to the airport.“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” she had said. “You’re not throwing it away because of me.”
Dad’s ringtone pierced through my reverie. “Excuse me,” he muttered, slipping away.
I fidgeted with my sleeve, suddenly aware of Elia’s penetrating gaze.
“I worry about you,” she said, touching my hand. “You should be out and about, doing regular girl stuff. Not wasting away in this miserableplace.” “It’s not miserable, Eli. Not when you’re here.”
Her sage-green eyes swept the room. “You’re right. The bare walls, this fashionable nightgown, the bleach-scented air freshener…yeah, they’ve really spritzed it up.”
I choked out a laugh. Only Elia could turn cancer into a punchline.
“So,” she said, her voice brimming with expectancy, “how’s the college search going?”
I stared at my feet, silence filling the space between us. 
“You’re not searching,” she said flatly.
“Actually, I was thinking about…about a gap year.”
Elia propped herself up in her seat. “Absolutely not.”
“It’s my life,” I snapped. “Not yours.”
“And what do you expect to do when I’m gone?” Her eyes flashed. “Mope around at home?”
I flinched. “You’re going to get better.” 
But the words rang hollow.
“I’m dying, Ry,” she said with a half-hearted laugh. “Dying. There’s no cure for that.” 
I opened my mouth, but the words stuck in my throat. What was I going to say? Mom, Dad, even me…we’d all denied the blatant truth. Just aseason. She’ll get better. More chemo, more radiation, more surgeries. We can fix this. We can make her better.
“But you,” she continued. “You have a whole life ahead of you.”
I shook my head. “I can’t do this.”
“You can,” Elia said. “I want you to do this. College is the most amazing experience. You get to try new things and make new friends and eatwhatever you want. You get to…to find yourself.”She paused, catching her breath. “You’ve dreamed about Stanford for forever. Don’t throw it away now. Please.”
I studied her face. My sister had coaxed, wheedled, cajoled, bargained, and charmed her way through life. But she never begged.
Against my better judgment, I pulled the laptop out of my backpack.
Dad stepped into the room. “Any dinner requests? I was going to pick something up at…”
His eyes drifted toward my laptop.
“College applications,” Elia said.
“Are you sure?” he said, a note of hope in his voice. “There’s nothing wrong with a gap year, sweetheart.”
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
Dad sighed. “Thank goodness. Your mom was…well, she was concerned. Ready to hop on a plane home, actually.”
Elia wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “We should take another picture. For the family record.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, fumbling with his phone. “Rylan, at least try to show your teeth in this one.” 
I rested my head on Elia’s shoulder.
“You’re not abandoning me,” she whispered. “I’ll be okay.”
Click.***“Tape,” I grunted, stuffing my comforter into a box.
“Just a minute,” Dad said. “A bit stuck here.”
I rolled my eyes. My dad wasn’t stuck. He was procrastinating. 
"You know what? Forget it.” I kicked the box. “I’ll have to unpack it anyway.”
I surveyed the room, triple-checking myself. Not that I could fit much into a dorm room. But something caught my eye – something rectangular,shoved underneath my bed. “Oh yeah,” Dad said. “I found a whole sock collection under there.” 
“Hey,” I said, clearing my throat. “Could you…could you give me a minute?”
He stepped into the hallway. That was the best part of Dad. He never asked, or prodded, or pried. 
I sank onto my mattress and traced the handwriting on the package. From Eli to Ry, with loads of love.
With trembling fingers, I pried it open, jumping as a hefty book tumbled onto my lap. I lifted the cover. 
A photo album. Of course. Pictures had been crammed onto every page, complete with Eli’s handwritten notes and decorative touches.
Click. 
I give Ry her first haircut.
Click.
Rylan’s first day of kindergarten.
Click.
Me showing Ry how to ride a bike.
Click.
We got a puppy for Christmas!
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Dance lessons together.
Click.
Family summer vacay!
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My first day of junior high; Ry’s first day of second grade (isn’t she adorable?).
Click.
Ry helping me with my math homework – the first day we realized she was destined for Stanford.
Click.
Mall trip – our first mani-pedis ever (but not the last)!
Click.
“Rylan?” Mom’s voice drifted upstairs. “Ten-minute warning.”
I slid the album into my backpack. “Coming.”
I hesitated in the doorway, taking one last look. But the room wasn’t quite the same without Eli’s clutter…without her flowery perfume, hergarish clothes, her pictures plastered on every inch of the walls.Without her.
I hustled downstairs, tears pricking my eyelids, and stepped out the door.
“Sweetheart,” Mom said, “we can always help you. You don’t have to do this alone.”
“She’ll be okay.” Dad gave me a wink. “She always has been.”
I hopped behind the wheel. “Dad’s right. Besides, I’ve already done this with Elia.”
She squeezed my hand and backed away from the car.
Dad shot me a half-smile. “Love you, sweet pea.”
I nodded, choking on the response.
“Get out of here,” he said, jerking his head toward the road. “Go on.”
I backed out, waving while my parents watched me leave. For one moment, I had a wild impulse to go back. Stay home. Mope around on thecouch.But just for a moment.
“You see that, Eli?” I whispered. “I did it. I’m going to Stanford. Just like you wanted.”
And for a moment, I could almost see her in the driveway, camera in hand, waving and blowing kisses and cheering me on.
Click.