Page 85 of A Wish for Us

When the truck was loaded, we made our way to Bonnie’s home. Easton didn’t talk any more. He hardly smiled. I glanced over at him. He was staring out of the window. I had nothing to say to him. What the helldidI say? We all waited, every day, for the call. The call that a heart had been found.

“Palliative,”Bonnie’s mum had explained to me recently. Bonnie was now officially in palliative care. A nurse would come around every day. And I could see the humiliation in Bonnie’s eyes as she was cared for. The longing to lift off the bed and walk. To sing and to play.

Just to be well.

We pulled to a stop outside the Farradays’ house. Easton didn’t move his eyes from the window. “You okay?” I asked.

Easton turned to me, a vacant look in his eyes. “Let’s get the instruments in to my sister.” He stepped out and began unloading. I followed, carrying a violin, a flute, and a clarinet. As soon as I entered the house, the smell of antiseptic hit me. The entire house now smelled like a hospital.

When I entered Bonnie’s room, it didn’t matter to me that she was lying on the bed, a plastic tube flowing oxygen into her body through her nose; she was still the most perfect thing I’d ever seen. Mrs. Farraday was sitting beside her. Easton put down the drum he was carrying and moved to the bed to kiss Bonnie’s forehead.

Bonnie smiled, and the sight of it split my heart wide open. A drip hung from her arm, fluids to help keep her strong now that she couldn’t eat or drink very well. She’d lost weight. She’d always been slim, but now she was fading before my eyes.

I suddenly couldn’t breathe, tears pricking at my eyes. I turned and went back to the truck to get more instruments. The minute the cool air hit me, I stopped and just breathed it in. Easton came beside me and stopped too. Neither of us said anything. But when he exhaled, his breath shaking, he may as well have screamed it from the rooftops.

Bonnie was dying, and there was fuck all we could do.

When I could move again, I took the cello and sax to the bedroom. This time Bonnie was waiting for me, her eyes fixed on the door. As I caught her eyes, a smile so bloody big it lit up the sky pulled on her sallow cheeks.

“Crom…well…” she stuttered, her voice barely there. I had only left a few hours ago, but when your time is limited, every minute apart is an eternity.

“Farraday,” I said and moved beside her. Her mum was gone, and I’d seen her nurse, Clara, in the kitchen as I’d passed. I brushed back Bonnie’s hair. When her eyes looked around the room, they filled with tears. Her purple lips parted and a wheezy exhale slipped from her mouth. “You…brought…me…” She sucked in a quick breath. Her eyes closed as she fought to simply breathe. “Music,” she said, her chest rising and falling at double speed as she managed to push out the final word.

“We’re getting it done.” I leaned over to kiss her lips. “I made you a promise.”

Easton appeared on the other side of her bed. He sat down and took her hand in his. I could see the torment in his eyes. And I saw the dark shadow that hung around him like a cloak. The navy-blue and graphite evidence of how seeing his sister in this bed was his version of hell.

“I’ll leave you to the music.” He looked up at me. “Cromwell’s got younow, okay?” He kissed her hand. “I’ll see you, Bonn.” Easton’s voice cut off. The lump in my throat was getting bigger and bigger each day, shutting off my ability to swallow. And right now, seeing Bonnie shed a tear, watching as it rolled down her pale cheek, made it swell so big I couldn’t breathe.

Bonnie tried to hold on to him tightly. But I could see she was struggling to move her fingers. Easton stood and kissed her forehead. He looked at me. “Cromwell.”

“See you, East,” I said, and he left the room.

A sob came from Bonnie, and I was on the bed in two seconds flat, lifting her into my arms. I felt the tears on my neck. She weighed nothing in my arms. “Don’t want…” she whispered. I held still while she finished the rest. “To make him sad.”

My eyes squeezed shut and my jaw clenched. I held her tighter. The piano I played at most days stared at me. I moved my mouth to her ear. “I wrote something for you.”

I laid Bonnie back on her bed, wiping her tears away with my thumb. “You have?” she said.

I nodded then kissed her quickly. All our kisses were quick now. But I didn’t care. They were no less special. I ran my hand over her hair. “You are the bravest person I’ve ever met.” Bonnie blinked, her eyes closing a fraction too long as my words sank in. Her skin was clammy, so I pushed back the long, brown hair that framed her face. “You’re going to win, Bonnie. I’m never giving up hope. I wanted to create something to remind you of it, the fight you told me you’d put up. I wrote something for you to play when you lose hope.”

Excitement flared in her eyes. It always did when I played. She reminded me of my dad in those moments. Another person I loved who believed in me so much. Whose greatest joy in life was listening to me play. The loss I felt in these moments was extreme. Because if my dad had met Bonnie…he would have loved her.

And she would have loved him.

“You ready?” I said hoarsely, those thoughts stealing away my voice.

Bonnie nodded. She didn’t release my hand until I got off the bed to walk across the room. I sat down at the piano and closed my eyes.

My hands started to play the colors that I had committed to memory. The pattern that poured from my soul and whose music filled up the room. A small smile pulled on my lips as I let the images that had inspired this piece spring to mind. Of Bonnie walking ahead of me, holding my hand. Of her smile and pink lips. Her pale skin flushed with color under the weight of the heavy South Carolina sun. And her, sitting down in the grass with me, overlooking the lake. Canoeists and rowers moving slowly along the water, no urgency or rush. The breeze would flow through her hair and I’d notice the freckles the sun had brought out on her nose and cheeks.

She’d move above me to kiss me. I’d hold her waist, feeling the fabric of her summer dress. And she’d breathe easily as I took her mouth. Her body would be strong. And when I laid my palm over her heart, it would beat a steady, normal rhythm.

Her lungs would breathe in the fresh air.

And she would laugh and run just like everyone else.

Then we’d sit together, in the music room. Her, next to me on the piano. I’d play, and her voice would fill the room with the most vivid violet blue I’d ever seen.

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