Page 47 of The Wish
Nothing can change what’s always true –
My love, my heart, will stay with you.
Should you soar beyond this world,
I’ll feel you near, my precious girl.
In every place, however far,
You’ll be with me, bright shining star.
Watching Jesse read her words while Sam rambles on about his art, unaware that Jesse isn’t really listening, fills Mandy with a bittersweet kind of joy. This moment – this exact moment – feels impossibly precious. How can she hold onto it forever?
A soft click breaks her reverie. She turns to see Alex approaching, camera in hand, having just captured the scene she was trying to sear into memory. For a moment, she isn’t sure whether to thank him or be annoyed at the intrusion – but she chooses gratitude and gives him a warm smile.
‘I’m sorry, am I interrupting?’ Alex asks gently. ‘I can come back.’
‘No, I’m glad you’re here,’ Jesse says, her voice softer than yesterday. ‘I want to show you something. Mum and Sam said it was OK.’
As Alex steps closer, he notices the bandage on Jesse’s arm – one that wasn’t there before. It stretches from her upper arm down to her wrist, and something about it instantly worries him.
‘What happened to your arm?’ he asks, his concern sharp as he moves nearer.
‘Oh, nothing. I’m fine,’ Jesse says quickly, but Alex hears the crack in her voice – weakness that wasn’t there the day before.
‘The vein collapsed this morning,’ Mandy explains gently. ‘They were giving her a small dose of chemo. The pressure bandage is just to protect it.’
He hears the weariness in her tone – more than exhaustion, it’s a kind of quiet resolve, like someone bracing for a storm they can’t stop.
Alex glances at Jesse again. The change is obvious. He looks to Mandy, searching for some cue, some direction. Her sad smile is all he needs. She knows. He must say nothing.
Trying to redirect the energy, Jesse lifts the poems and drawings. ‘Look, Alex. These are the poems Mum wrote for me. And Sam’s drawings from last night. I want to include them in my wish.’
‘If it’s OK with you, Alex,’ Mandy adds quickly.
Alex picks up one of the drawings, studying it before glancing at Sam, who’s still hunched over, absorbed. ‘These are great, Sam. Really – these are amazing.’
Jesse hands him the poem she just read. He scans the opening lines, then pauses.
‘Are you sure you want me to read this? It’s . . . it’s personal.’
He hopes she’ll take it back, take away the ache he already feels building in his chest.
‘I know,’ Jesse says simply. ‘That’s why I want it. It’s personal. It’s us.’
Alex turns away from them to read it properly. Mandy watches his shoulders rise and fall, his breath coming quicker.
When he finally turns back, his eyes are damp. ‘It’s beautiful. Truly,’ he says, meeting Mandy’s eyes. ‘Are you a writer?’
Mandy lets out a small laugh. ‘I wish. I did some creative writing after my English Lit degree, but then I got a job as an editor . . . and life got in the way.’
‘You’re a lucky girl, Jesse,’ Alex says, though he’s still looking at Mandy.
‘No, Alex. I’m the lucky one,’ Mandy says firmly.
There’s a pause. Then Mandy asks gently, ‘Jesse told me you didn’t grow up with your parents?’
‘I never knew my father. My mum died when I was seven.’
