Stay With Me Read Online Free PDF

really want to go.
    During October, she was in touch with people she hadn't seen in a long time. She even had lunch with William. If she went to the trouble of saying goodbye to everyone, she has to have had reason to leave. Something that made her do it.
    I wish there were a way to explain this to Da. I think it would make him feel better to know why she did it, but maybe not. I don't feel better knowing Rebecca had a reason. It's more like I have a huge undone task: finding her story. Her why.
     
    But first. Staring at Raphael and Gyula's ties has focused me. I know how to help my parents ask Clare to let me live with her. I pull William aside after the service, saying I need to talk to him. He takes me to the club's library, off-limits to nonmembers. I tell him about Poland. That my parents will be prevented from going by worrying about me.
    "They have to go," I say. "They can't stay here."
    "It's, um, well, the worst I've ever, um, seen him," William says, his small, fine hands gesturing into the air for no reason.
    William is short and a little roundish and has, Da says, the wrong personality for a surgeon. But the right hands, I guess, because if you need a tumor removed, William's the go-to guy. In spite of his being almost as old as Da, I always have trouble remembering how important William is at the hospital. He never acts like he's a big deal.
    "Clare travels a lot," I say. "They won't be able to leave me only with her."
    Not to mention she may tell them exactly where to go, but I am banking on Clare needing to feel useful. Since no one can do anything for her, she may be willing to be the one who does for others. Especially if she can split the job with someone else.
    "Oh, Leila," William says. "Of course. I told you after the ... you know, when your sister and I, um, well, when we separated. You always have a home with me."
    In the library's dim light, I worry that he's about to cry, but probably not. It's been a while since I've been around a grown-up man who isn't weeping.
    "I'd do anything, Leila," William says. "Not just for Julian. For you too."
    Good. Because there's this one thing. Would he please tell my parents that he'd like to have me stay with him while my sister's away on business?
    "It'll sound like a great idea if you bring it up," I say.
    "Elsa's worried about leaving you," William says.
    "A little," I say. "Yes."
    "There will be pressure on them to stay," William says. "But every time he looks at you girls, all he sees is the one who's missing."
    "He needs to be working," I say.
    I have, over the years, heard Janie, Clare, Raphael, my mother, and most certainly Da talk about work as more than what they do to earn money. Clare is happy working. Mom and Raphael sound as if they feel safe in their labs. Da loves to find out what he still doesn't know about how people both fall sick and get well. Work is where they all go to be who they are.
    "Of course he does," William says. "Remember the first thing Janie did when her illness began?"
    I nod.
    "If I'm working, I can beat this," Janie told my sisters when they tried to keep her from going to Berlin right after finding out she had cancer.
    "Leila, he'll be okay," William tells me. "You mustn't let it weigh on you."
    "Yes, right," I say, trying to avoid thinking the obvious: Barring accident or disaster, the next memorial service my family organizes will be for my sixty-seven-year-old father.
    Da himself has to have sat through Janie's service thinking that he would be next. Now burying Rebecca has made him—made all of us—feel that the end is that much closer.

Five
    W ILLIAM WORKS FAST and, as far as I can tell, soothes many of my mother's fears about leaving me behind.
    I think he spent most of his energy convincing Mom, but even Da takes time from organizing notes and supply lists to listen in on my mother's discussion with me about their departure.
    "You don't know Clare very well," Mom says. "It's almost as if you know William better than you