Lucky opened her eyes and gave a dry laugh.
“I guess you could say that.”
Bonnie didn’t want to risk Lucky clamming up by asking for specifics. She was afraid to think of what her sister had been doing; she hoped what she imagined was worse than the reality.
“It’s okay.” Bonnie patted her down over the covers. “You’re a Blue. You’re made of tough stuff.”
Lucky stared at her from between the mounds of pillows.
“Tough stuff,” she repeated. “What does that make Nicky?”
From the corner of Lucky’s eye, a fat teardrop escaped and made a run into her ear.
“She was tough stuff too.” Bonnie wiped the wet trail the tear had left across Lucky’s temple with the corner of the duvet. “She was just unlucky.”
Bonnie closed the bedroom blinds against the midday sunlight and went to the kitchen to fetch a bucket in case Lucky was sick again. As she placed it on the floor beside the bed, Lucky’s hand crept from under the covers and pulled at her sleeve.
“Are you leaving?” she asked in a small voice.
Bonnie didn’t need to think before answering. She shook her head.
“I’m staying right here.”
She perched on the edge of the bed, watching over Lucky like a sentry until, eventually, she appeared to doze. Once she was sure she was sleeping, she went back online and carried on reading. She could feel her heartbeat in her throat as she scrolled through page after page, trying to gather what tips she could. Most articles stressed the significant risks of detoxing at home. But Bonnie knew her chances of getting Lucky into a treatment facility were small to nonexistent. She wouldn’t go willingly and, anyway, Bonnie didn’t even know how to find a good one, let alone pay for it. She knew she should call Avery, but Lucky would never trust her again if she did.
Also, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the one who was meant to help Lucky through this. Who else was as capable of helping Lucky lean into pain? Years of fighting had taught Bonnie that you must take an opening when you see it. She needed to take advantage of this small window of willingness that had opened inside of her sister and hoist her through it with all her strength. She had failed with Nicky, arriving minutes too late. She would not fail Lucky.
She returned to the kitchen to begin preparing a broth, following a recipe she’d found online by a holistic nutritionist who claimed to be able to cure everything from stomach cramps to cancer through diet. As she chopped the carrots, careful not to make too much noise, she glanced up at the black Kit-Kat clock swaying its tail on the kitchen wall. Danya would be warming up now. Bonnie used everything in her to push that thought away, returning her attention to thinly slicing the orange discs in front of her. She wanted to get them just right.
—
For the next few days Bonnie stayed by Lucky’s side, making sure she ate, bathed, and rested. Together, they watched terrible daytime TV and took slow, meandering walks around Central Park, Lucky wincing at the sunshine as she leaned on Bonnie, her hand tucked into the crook of her elder sister’s arm. They sat by the Alice in Wonderland statue and watched children in bright summer clothes crawl over the toadstools into Alice’s lap, its bronze patina rubbed smooth by the thousands of tiny hands and feet that had clambered on it.
“Remember when that was us?” asked Bonnie.
Lucky smiled wanly.
“Were we ever so young?”
Bonnie ignored all thoughts of the gym and instead read endless articles online delineating the best remedies for withdrawal. She blended juices and smoothies to slake Lucky’s thirst, rubbed peppermint oil into her temples to ward off nausea, and led her in the healing pranayama breathing exercises she’d taught herself from YouTube for this purpose. It all seemed to be going to plan until the third night, when Lucky demanded to go out alone, where or why she wouldn’t say, and Bonnie would not let her. She stood before their front door, blocking her sister’s exit.
“You’re seriously not going to let me out?” said Lucky.
As she had many times as a bouncer at Peachy’s, Bonnie crossed her arms and shored herself up, keeping her face blank and inscrutable.
“I can’t let you do that yet,” she said calmly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil she felt.
“Seriously?” asked Lucky again, her voice rising with frustration.
Bonnie nodded.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” shouted Lucky, turning as if to walk away.
Then she pivoted, barreled back down the hallway, and launched herself at Bonnie, trying to shove her to the side.
“You can’t control me!” she cried.
“I’m not trying to control you,” said Bonnie, easily pinning Lucky’s arms to her chest and holding her still. “I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“Safe? I can keep myself safe!” yelled Lucky. “What do you think I’ve been fucking doing all these years?”
Lucky thrashed like a caught fish in her arms. Her knees buckled beneath her and the two of them toppled over onto the hallway floor. All Bonnie’s boxing training went out the window. They could have been children again, tussling over some game gone awry. Lucky untangled herself first and scrambled back up to lunge for the door, but Bonnie caught her ankles, attempting to drag her back down. She succeeded in yanking Lucky’s sweatpants to her knees instead, revealing her pale butt cheeks bordered by a surprisingly girlish pink thong. With one hand tugging at her waistband, Lucky grasped desperately for the doorknob with the other before collapsing onto her knees, her ass still hanging over her waistband. She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking, and Bonnie realized with agony that she had made her sister cry. She had been too rough, just like when they were kids.
“Shit, I’m sorry, Lucky.” She crawled toward her on the carpet and placed a hand on her shoulder as lightly as she could. “I’m really sorry.”
But when Lucky turned to her, her face was cracked open with amusement. She let out another gulping laugh and yanked up her pants.
“All right, fuck it,” she said, wiping her eyes. “You win. Let’s watch a movie.”
—
By the end of the week Lucky looked, for the first time, like she wasn’t on the verge of either vomiting, nodding off, or killing herself, so Bonnie suggested they go for an early morning run.
“It’s nice having you here with me,” she said, nudging Lucky as they trotted along side by side. They’d done one mile, and Bonnie could feel the endorphins begin to kick in. She grinned. “Running buddy.”
Lucky tried the best approximation of a shrug she could manage while heaving herself forward in time with Bonnie.
“Still…fucking…jet-lagged,” she panted. “Also…I can’t sleep…through the…night without…weed or Ambien.”
