That night, after Art drove us all home, I got into bed early, grinning to myself like an idiot. I might—just might—be in love.

The next morning I woke up, called myself an idiot for dreaming about... someone... and went about my day, unable to stop smiling.

Mom took me to see Nolan, and my smile faded for a while, sobered by my brother's illness. But Nolan was looking better and better, every day, Mom said, and I just wanted him to come home, and Mom and Dad to be home all the time, and Nonna to go back to Italy or wherever she was from.

The next day, I was sitting in my room, reading. It was a nice, rainy day, the type of weather when it was grey and wet outside. Thunder rolled outside, and I thought dreamily that it might be a thunder battle, from J.R.R. Tolkien's the Hobbit. Then I heard Nonna yelling for us, ruining the moment.

"Zachary Adam! Willa Jacquelyn!" Nonna yelled. I frowned. She was getting bossier and bossier to my younger siblings and I, and I didn't want her bullying them.

I saw Z walk down the stairs from his room. He looked mildly annoyed as he walked towards the kitchen where Nonna was sitting, probably drinking her favorite coke and gin.

"Willa Jacquelyn!" Nonna hollered again. "Get down here!"

Upstairs, I heard a door slam. Willa yelled something that included the h-e-double hockey sticks word that one time Dad washed her mouth out with soap for saying once. She sounded really ticked off.

"Guarda la tua lingua, girl! Watch your tongue! Nikki! Nikki Erica! Get your sister!"

I bolted up from my chair, eyes wild. Was it news? About Nolan? My heart racing, I ran, leaning on my crutch, gasping, "Willa! She has—something to—tell us—I think it's—"

Willa stomped down the hallway and down the stairs, brushing past me. "What's the news, old lady?" she demanded once she got to the kitchen.

I quickly went to the kitchen, and sat at the table. "Nonna, please, tell us."

Nonna sniffed. At the time I'd thought that it was an indignant sniff, but later, I'd know otherwise. "You should respect your elders."

Willa scowled and turned up her chin at Nonna. "No," she said defiantly. "You can't just boss us around. I'm fricking sick of it, hear me, Nonna? I'm sick of you. Now you're gonna tell us that news, or we'll wrestle that phone from you and read it ourselves. Got it?"

I stared at my little sister. She stared at Nonna. Nonna stared... at the table. A single tear dropped down her cheek. I noticed it, and shrieked. I got up, still shrieking, and ran, to go away, anywhere, anyplace, just to get away—

But I heard what Nonna said.

"Children. Children, I'm— I'm sorry." She was... sorry? Oh... no—

And I covered my ears and screamed as loud as I could, at the top of my lungs, but I still couldn't block out Nonna's voice.

"Your brother... I... they just told me... he was... he died. Just... not very long ago."

Nolan died?

No!

No! He wasn't dead! He couldn't be! It was a mistake!

Then it hit me. I hadn't said goodbye.

Nonna took a breath. "It— it wasn't from the disease, though."

We all jerked our heads up, even me, who was huddling in the hallway.

"An hour ago, your parents... they went to the hospital and they... they were able to get Nolan. The doctors said that Nolan could go home for a few days, for his health. They got in the car and..." she paused. "It was slick on the road, and they knew it, but they didn't want to wait, and Nolan didn't either. They couldn't wait to come home." She wiped a tear from a red eye. I knew what came next, even before she said it.

"But on the way, the tires slipped on the road, and they went over the rail, and... into the lake on the other side. No one survived." Nonna cried out softly in Italian and started to sob, hugging herself and rocking back and forth.

I looked out at the thundershower numbly. Could it be that the same rain that I'd enjoyed this morning have killed my brother and parents?

I hadn't said goodbye.

How did I feel about it?

I honestly didn't know.

It was too hard to think about.

I wanted it to be all a nightmare.

Maybe it was. Maybe if I woke up, it would all have been just a dream. Nolan would be better, Mom and Dad and him would be... still... and Nonna wouldn't be here at all.

Please be just a nightmare—please be just a nightmare—

I heard the noise of a chair scraping back on the floor. I looked up, and Willa stood to face Nonna.

She tucked her auburn curls behind her ears. "What'll happen to us now?" she asked bravely. But I could see through it. She was as scared as me.

A tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, At least she's trying. You're just sitting here. But I couldn't make myself get up.

Nonna looked up. She took a breath. "I don't know."

Willa rolled her eyes. "That really clears it all up, old lady." She said h-e-double hockey sticks again.

Nonna glared up at her, but didn't have the energy to scold her.

Instead, she looked in the corner, where she saw Z standing against the wall. "Zachary, are you alright?" Nonna asked him.

"It's Z," he said quietly.

Nonna held out her arms to us. We stared at her. "Children, I am all you have left here. Won't you give me a hug?"

Reluctantly, we hugged her.

After that, Z walked upstairs and hid in his room, Willa hid in her room, and I sat in the guest room, staring at nothing.

Deciding I could practice walking up the stairs on my crutch, and wondering if it would be terrible if I fell down the stairs and broke my neck and died, I went to the stairs and went up and down, up and down, not slipping once, unfortunately.

On my fourth time up the stairs, I heard Willa duck out of her door and yell, "What the hell, Nikki? Can you fricking shut up already?"

I flinched, and finished going up the stairs. She was speaking out of her anger and grief, I reminded myself.

I walked up to her door. "Are you okay?" I asked my sister.

"Leave me the hell alone!" she yelled through her door.

Sighing, I walked past and went to Z's room. I knocked on his door. "Hey, Z."

There was no answer.

I opened the door—it wasn't locked— and went inside. "Z?" I asked.

His room was empty. I looked around in all the books and crannies that he usually tucked away in, but he wasn't in there.

I frowned. "Uh. Z? Where are you?"

Walking quickly into the hallway, I checked all the rooms. There was a light on under the bathroom door, and I knocked.

Putting my ear to the door, I heard... was that... retching? I rattled the doorknob. "Z, what's going on?"

The toilet flushed and the door opened after a moment. Z stood behind the door, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

He looked pale and all his freckles were visible.

I opened my arms, and he gave me a hug. "I'm so sorry this happened," I whispered to my little brother. "It doesn't even feel real."

Z nodded. "I know."

"Listen... are you okay?" I asked him quietly. "'Cause I thought I heard-"

"Fine," Z answered quickly. "I'm fine."

I studied him for a minute. His cornflower blue eyes looked into mine. "Okay," I told him, feeling too weak to say much else. "I'm gonna go lie down."

He nodded. "Okay."

I started for the stairs, but, in seeing my room, I went into that one instead.

Nonna has been staying in my room since she came, since I couldn't get up the stairs before. But now I could, and I wanted my room back. I walked in, and stared at it.

The blue walls were draped with bright orange and red and yellow and purple scarves, and my clean white cotton curtains had been pulled down and replaced with gauzy tie-dyed pink and orange drapes. My bed was covered in a bright orange quilt, and my pillow was replaced with a whole garrison of sham pillows in every shade of the rainbow. The rest of my room... was pretty much the same.

I stared at my room, taking it all in.

Then I sank down on the neon, eyesore of a braided rug and cried.

Too much.

Too much.

Too much.

. . .

I opened my eyes. My room was dark and my cheek was sore from resting on the hard texture of the braided rug. I'd fallen asleep sometime ago—maybe two hours? I couldn't tell.

I looked around to see what might've woken me, and heard a knock on the door.

"Bambina, are you alright?" It was Nonna. She'd never called me that before.

I sat up as she entered. Would it kill her to ask before coming in?

"Nikki, I'm so sorry this is happening to you." Nonna sighed and sat on the bed. My bed. The one she took over.

I remembered the British soldiers quartering with the Americans during the Revolutionary War and thought I knew just a little of how they felt.

"Nikki. Tell me how you feel." Nonna stood and went to my dresser, where she'd placed a bottle of fancy red wine and a block of crumbly blue cheese on a cutting board. Does this lady go anywhere without alcohol?

Nonna poured a small splash of the red wine into a small wine glass without a stem. When she saw me staring at her, she grinned. "Relax, Nikki. It is grape juice." (I wasn't sure if she was joking or not.) She sliced a hunk of the blue cheese off, and handed both the filled glass and the cheese to me. "It helps clear your mind," she told me.

I blinked at her.

"What is it you kids say? Seriously? Well, I'm seriously." Nonna jerked her chin up at me.

I allowed a small smile at her. Just a little one. "Th-Thanks."

She nodded fiercely at me, shaking her hands. "What? I am an Itallian grandmother. I must do my job, no?"

"Sure," I stammered, unsure of what to say. She was actually being... nice to me. What did I do now?

Nonna sighed. "I'm going to go make a few calls to the lawyer... and see what to do."

I nodded, my small smile fading again. I didn't deserve to smile. Not after Mom and Dad and Nolan... I still couldn't believe—

Best to—best to keep my mind off of things.

I climbed onto my bed, which smelled like Nonna's Italian Grape Vineyard perfume, and crawled under the sheets, exhausted. I pulled on my headphones, and drowned out the bad thoughts, too tried to stay awake.

Hoping that I might not wake again.

Hoping.

But that night, I woke when my phone ran out of battery. And reality rushed back.

Last night, the last time I talked to them. I tried to suppress it—to push it down—but it rushed, gushed back, with the force of a tsunami. Watch this, my mind goaded. Watch, how you never said goodbye, how you'll never see them again. Watch!

I watched.

It was 8:00 p.m. Mom and Dad were just about to go to the hospital to spend the night with Nolan.

The twins and I'd sat in the kitchen, listening as Dad was talking to us.

"Listen, kids, we're going to be gone the whole night, okay? Atricela will take good care of you guys, I promise. Be good to each other. Look out for each other. Okay, Nikki? You're in charge."

I'd nodded. "Of course," I'd answered, my words clipped and short. I was a little mad that they were going to see Nolan and leave us here with Nonna.

Mom smiled at me. "I knew I could count on you, Nikki."

At least I'd smiled back.

Then they left. That night had been lovely: warm—for winter— in the low 50's, and it was a perfect, starry night.

Then, the next morning, the sun never came out, and it rained, rained, rained. The sun never came out.

And I missed them. More than missed them. My heart, my soul, my whole being ached for them, the missing pieces of my heart that would never return. I couldn't imagine what would happen next. I... couldn't even think about it—

My heart was broken.

My souls was broken.

Can one die of heartbreak? Of heartache? Is it truly possible?

. . .

. . .