A Whole Page of Spring Wind, Not One Word Is Mine

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2

The next morning, Neal set the car keys down in front of me.

"Nadia's right hand's gone numb. She's got a follow-up today."

"You take her."

My hands stilled over the files I was sorting.

"I have the final review for my translation this morning."

That manuscript. I'd spent two years on it.

Today was the first time I'd present it under my own name.

Neal only said, "Reschedule."

"The organizers waited three months for me."

"She works with her hands. It can't wait."

I looked at him.

"She has an assistant."

His face darkened.

"Willow, when did you get so cold?"

I nearly laughed out loud.

Last year I ran a high fever while he was in a meeting in Geneva, and all he did was have the driver drop off some medicine.

Later, when my stomach bled, he rushed off to be with Nadia for a brand shoot and told me to get myself to the hospital.

Now Nadia just had a follow-up.

And if I didn't go, I was the heartless one.

My mother's call came almost right away.

"If something's really wrong with your sister's hand, how is she supposed to keep her journal going? Why haven't you left yet?"

I asked, "Mom, yesterday was my birthday too. Do you remember?"

She paused.

"Didn't Neal give you a notebook? Your sister needs looking after more. Don't fight over everything."

The call ended.

Neal pushed the keys forward.

"Give your materials to my assistant."

"That's my translation."

"It's a few pages of text. It doesn't matter who hands it in."

I pushed the keys back.

"It does matter."

He dialed right there.

"Director Donaldson, Willow won't be at the final review today. Please cancel the meeting."

I shot to my feet.

"Neal!"

He hung up.

"Can we go now?"

That translation came from a woman writer whose work had been lost for years.

I'd gone through hundreds of old journals to fill in the missing pages.

The organizers had promised that if it passed the final review, the cover would carry my name for the first time.

And Neal gave it up for me in a single sentence.

Nadia happened to call right then.

"Neal, is your sister not willing? Never mind, I'll go by myself."

Neal looked at me.

"She'll go."

I asked, "If the one with the sore hand today were me, would you do the same?"

He frowned.

"Your health has always been fine."

"So my things just get shoved aside?"

He picked up his coat.

"Don't put it so harshly."

At the hospital, the doctor said it was only mild tendonitis, that a few days' rest would fix it.

Neal breathed easier, then adjusted the wrist brace on Nadia's hand.

It was the custom one he'd brought back from Switzerland.

Last year he'd given me one too, a domestic brand.

Mine came apart at the seams after three uses.

He said products like that were all the same.

So it turned out the difference had been there all along.

Nadia suggested going out to eat, to make up for the birthday.

Neal asked her what she wanted.

My phone lit up at the same moment.

A message from Director Donaldson.

"Willow, I'm sorry. Your feature slot has already been given to another project team."

I put my phone away.

"You two go."

Neal frowned.

"Now what?"

I'd just turned to leave when Nadia called after me.

"Oh, right. That slot of yours. Director Donaldson said it was a shame to leave it empty."

She rubbed the hand in the wrist brace.

"My travel journal series happens to need a display spot, so he told me to bring it over today."