Page 59 of The Wish
‘I’m not sure Dean would agree.’
‘He will. It’s just hard for him. When she was first diagnosed, he spent weeks researching cures. He wanted to take Jesse to Cyprus for treatment.’
‘Jesse mentioned that.’
‘Really? I guess I’m not surprised. She was only thirteen then, so young. We tried to keep our pain and worry from her, but I don’t think we did a very good job.’
‘She told me she was glad you didn’t let Dean take her away for treatment. She trusts everyone on 6 East. She’s made closefriends there who really help her – she wouldn’t have had that if she’d moved from hospital to hospital.’
‘She said that? Oh, my goodness, I never knew that’s how she felt. It’s haunted me that I may have contributed to her condition by not taking her wherever there was the hope of a cure.’
‘I think you knew it would be chasing false hope.’
‘Oh, Alex, there’s one thing I do know. There is no such thing as false hope, there is only hope.’
He shifts in his seat. He’s never thought of it that way. ‘Only hope,’ he echoes.
‘Mum, are you done?’ Sam calls out.
‘Almost, sweetheart. Sorry, Alex – I’ve been rambling. How can I help?’
‘Thank you for telling me more about your family.’ He leans forward. ‘I wanted to know if you would be prepared to read the poems you have written to Jesse to include in her wish?’
‘Is this what Jesse wants?’
‘Yes. And me too.’
‘Then of course I will. I’ll record them on my phone and send them to you if that’s OK?’
‘Absolutely. I’ll give you my number.’ He stands up, holds out his hand, but Mandy ignores it, and hugs him.
After exchanging phone numbers, Alex calls out goodbye to Sam.
Driving away on his motorbike, Alex takes the next turn towards the beach. Stopping, he sits on his bike staring at the water. What Mandy has told him makes him understand Dean more. It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s become closer to Jesse than he ever dreamed he would – how must it be for her father? How dreadful must it be to see every dream, every hope for your daughter’s future knocked down like dominos, one by one, until only false hope remains. And yet how natural to hold on to that hope. As Mandy said – can any hope be false?
He thinks of what he said to Kelly, just a few nights ago – that every day brings him another reason to fight for Jesse’s wish, to make sure that it’s everything she hopes for. And that is the hope he can give her. That he can give her family.
He wipes his eyes, kickstarts his motorcycle. It’s time to get to work.
CHAPTER 24
Alex wakes early the next morning. Often on a Saturday he goes to the office to work in the quiet. Today he’s decided not to, he needs to think without the influence of a thousand images crossing multiple screens in front of him. He needs to clear his head of all images other than those he will need to create Jesse’s wish. In particular, he needs to work out how much of the end product will be special effects and how much will be live footage. He will need to find a way to talk to his colleague Charlie, TriOptics’ environmental artist, to bring to the soundstage the props needed to complement the filming. Knowing he will be receiving many photos and videos from Mandy when he visits on Monday, he wants to concentrate on the visuals he has taken, the drawings and poems given to him by Luke and Ryan and listen to the songs on the list Amy gave him.
Pacing around his small kitchen with a cup of cold coffee – a prop in his hands, yet to be tasted – he looks at Max, who watches him from the doorway.
‘OK, boy, fresh air! We both need fresh air.’
Seeing Alex put his running shoes on, Max excitedly pulls his lead from a nearby hook, taking it to Alex.
Outside, Max watches as Alex goes through a routine of stretches. Recognising the last deep knee bends before he’s ready to leave the property, Max positions himself at the pavement, poised for action.
Together, they gently jog past neighbouring homes, the normal Saturday activity of children in varying sporting uniforms being bundled into cars, hearing the ritual calls of parents: ‘Have you got your water bottle? What about your cap?’ What he would have given to have had an adult to remind him of such things, an adult who supported him to pursue and practise the many sports he’d loved and walked away from as a boy. As he was moved so often from home to home, he couldn’t stay on the teams, or be consistent with training, and he’d eventually given up.
A boy sprays a garden hose across the pavement, laughing. It’s hot so Max and Alex accept the mist gracefully. They pass a couple pushing a pram, their hands resting over each other’s on the handle. Max slows, trying to sneak a peek inside. He loves babies. But Alex tugs gently on the lead, and they keep going.
In a nearby street, Alex hears cheers. He follows the sound to the local athletics track. Through the fence he sees children sprinting, launching themselves into sand pits, leaping at high-jump bars. Inside the inner field, javelins arc through the air under the wary eyes of supervising adults. Alex pauses, watching.
He shifts along the fence, eyes on a group of girls rounding the bend. He judges their age to be eleven, maybe twelve – not much younger than Jesse. He smiles as they cross the finish line and wrap their arms around each other, no competition in sight, only joy. ‘Wasn’t like that in my day,’ Alex says, ruffling his dog’s head. Is that the difference between girls and boys? From his experience, there was only one winner. The rest? Losers. He remembers his only real rival in middle distance – a boy who sometimes muttered ‘good race’ or ‘you deserved it’ when Alex won. But mostly, he ran alone. No one in the stands. No team sport. Just him, the track, and the stopwatch. A private way to win or lose, with no one to blame but himself.
