And now, Vacant Auto-Pilot

It's been raining for days now, and the water supply at the cottage is running low.  Mildred is trying her best to feign that she is alright, but both Annie and I know different.  I try not to think too much about the fact that Mildred may never see anything more than this cottage.  Annie has been unusually quiet these past few hours as she tries to comfort her sister by treating her body fever with wet cool rags.

"Have you always been inseparable?" I ask Annie, who welcomes the distraction.

"Indeed," she says and smiles down on her sister.

Mildred looks towards me and nods.  She wants to be part of the conversation too.

"I always wanted to be a twin," I tell them.  Annie laughs.  Mildred tries to laugh, but it turns into a bad cough.

"What's wrong with being a twin?" I ask to lighten the mood.

Mildred makes a hand motion, and on cue Annie begins to tell me horror stories of suitors confusing them over the years.

I suppose that would be a real downfall.

"You would think they would've known us well enough to recognize one from the other, but they didn't," Annie says softly as she helps Mildred readjust.

A moment later Mildred coughs up some more blood, then vomits, then coughs some more.

"So, you never married?" I ask out of pure curiosity.

They both nod.  Then laugh.  I think they forget that I'm not privy to whatever memory they've both tapped into. 

A moment later Mildred falls asleep and Annie motions for me to meet her in the next room.

I tip toe away from my spot so as not to wake Mildred before reconvening with Annie.

"She's not going to make it," Annie says matter of fact. 

I nod.

"When the rains let up, we'll bury her in the forest.  Near a nice tree of some sort.  She'd like that." Annie says in vacant autopilot.

I try my best to play along.  The last thing I want to do is start to cry -- that would make it too hard for Annie.

Part of me is scared that the rains will never let up and Annie and I will be trapped here in this cottage forever while Mildred rots away in some closet that we put her in -- but I shake that thought away almost as soon as I think it.  It's not right.

For whatever reason I don't dishonour Annie by selling her hope.  Everything is not going to be fine.  Mildred is dying -- tonight even.  The last thing Annie needs is me to not support her, and so, if her go-to coping mechanism is the mechanics of creating a plan to bury her sister; I'm there.

"I'm really going to miss her," I say to Annie as I squeeze the tears back.

She smiles at me, grateful that I'm not fighting the reality of the situation.  A moment later she puts her arm around me and leans her head against mine.

"Me too," she says.  "Me too."