Beta thanks to Iulia!
Don remembers two things about his sister.
One is the time she kicked him. He wasn't yet three years old, too small to reach the sink without help, and when his mother hoisted him up to wash his hands, her belly pressed against Don and something hit him hard, right in the small of his back. He yelped and splashed water everywhere, and his mother laughed and ran a hand over his hair.
"The baby wants to come out and play, Donny." Don remembers that he couldn't wait.
The other thing he remembers about his sister isn't what happened to her. He remembers about his mother that she screamed one day while he was taking a nap; he remembers her white face in a hospital bed, remembers her sounding tired, telling him to be a good boy for his grandparents and that she'd call soon. When he first saw her in the cancer ward, the déjà vu almost knocked him down.
He remembers about his father that he held Don on his lap as the plane banked toward its final descent, and that he pointed out the window to the Statue of Liberty (for years afterward Don held the unshakeable conviction that the Statue of Liberty was a body of water, blue-green in the sun and dotted with white boats) and that he held Don tight through the landing, one hand curved protectively over Don's head. Don remembers that his father's arms didn't loosen as he carried Don off the plane, didn't let go until he passed Don to Grandma, and Grandpa's gruff, soft voice said, "Did you name the baby anything?"
Don remembers that his father's voice sounded as tired as his mother's as he said, "Anna." So the second thing Don remembers about his sister is her name.
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