Page 93 of Broken Strings

It’s no wonder my son thinks I’m unworthy of the title of his father.

My phone beeps with a text message, and I swipe to read as we reach the building.

Ford

The automated message server was a bust. Lead back to his driving service.

Me

Keep. Looking.

I barely stop the expletive on the tip of my tongue as I jam the offensive device into my back pocket with a scowl.

Flicking on the lights as I enter, I head straight for the only instrument I know is set up and tuned to my liking.

My acoustic guitar.

I strum some chords, sensing more than seeing Jesse settle himself on the oversized plush couch opposite me. Once I’ve found my stride, I play the opening of “Nothing Else Matters,” cursing myself for picking a song that only reminds me of her.

Rather than sing the lyrics, I just play, focusing on the familiar beat until a voice resonates off the vaulted ceiling, piercing my soul and almost making me drop my damn guitar.

My head shoots up, and I continue strumming to find Jesse has moved closer. He’s a little over a metre away, eyes closed, forehead creased and softly singing along.

His voice catches me off guard. It’s deeper than it should be, considering his age, and pitch perfect. He opens his eyes to find me staring. A flush graces his face, and he stops suddenly.

I set my guitar down gently beside me. “That’s quite a gift, kid. Your voice is beautiful.”

His flush deepens, reminding me of his mother. “Mom always said I got it from my dad.”

My chest constricts at his words, and I rub the spot over my heart before indicating that he should sit by me.

“Did your mom tell you much about me?” I try to keep the hopeful tone from my voice, but I don’t think I succeed.

“Well…” he trails off, looking away for a beat before his eyes shoot back to mine. “She said it was safer for me if I didn’t know who you were.”

He chews his lip in a gesture so reminiscent of his mother’s that I can feel my heart fracture further inside my chest.

“I guess she had her reasons.” His tone is so low; I think he’s mostly speaking to himself.

“But, she was actually really honest about everything, now that I think back. I’m surprised I didn’t put two and two together before now.” When he grins at me, I can’t help but mirror his beautiful smile.

“She said that you guys were soulmates but that the time just wasn’t right.”

I rub my chest again.

Damn, that stings.

“She told me stories. Loads of them.” His big blue eyes light up when he’s talking, and I sit by him, just soaking up his contagious exuberance as he relays tale after tale of our misspent youth.

Of days together that even I’d forgotten over time.

“She said she couldn’t look at you for like two weeks after she kissed you.” He laughs as he finishes the story of our first kiss. “She always liked that one best. She used to repeat it every time I had a chemo session because it made both of us smile. She’s such a nerd.”

The reminder of his ill health sees me gritting my teeth. “I’ve touched base with your doctors in New York. They’ve sent your medical records to the best of the best. We’ll get you a donor with plenty of time to spare.”

His doctors had indicated that they believed in waiting until Jesse was in full health and twelve months cancer free before doing the transplant, and the haematologist that Dr Kline recommended to us had agreed.

Unknown to Jesse, I’d already had the HLA test to check my compatibility. Bella and my parents too. It had just been a quick cheek swab and blood test.

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