The Forever Gift

by Brooke Harris

  ‘Is that my name?’ I ask, pointing at the large neon-pink font on the top of the page.

  ‘Yup,’ Aiden says. ‘It’s Sports Day soon and the school is getting everyone to bring in two euros so we can wear our own clothes instead of the mouldy PE gear.’

  ‘And why is my name on there?’ I ask.

  ‘Well, ’cos it’s for you,’ Aiden says, lowering the flyer.

  ‘For me?’ I tap my chest and try not to wince when the side of my nail clips the cap on the central line leaning into my heart. ‘How is everyone in school getting a non-uniform day anything to do with me?’

  ‘Kay, I’m sorry.’ Aiden shoves the flyer back into his bag. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I thought you’d be happy. It was Miss Hanlon’s idea. She’s always talking about you. Asking me how you’re doing. Coming up with fun stuff for us to do to raise money.’

  ‘You can come toooooooooo,’ Molly sings at the top of her lungs. Her squeaky little voice is going through my head.

  ‘Fun stuff for you all to do,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ Aiden says, looking around my small hospital room that tries depressingly hard not to be depressing. ‘I see the irony. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything, yeah?’

  ‘Is there a basketball game?’ I ask.

  Aiden nods.

  ‘Are you playing?’

  ‘Yeah. But we won’t win. Not without you.’

  ‘So why play?’ I say, hating myself for being so bitter. I don’t want Aiden to miss the game. I just desperately want to play alongside him.

  ‘All the proceeds go to Cancer Research,’ Aiden says. ‘I thought you’d be happy. It was my idea. I’m sorry, Kay. I can ask them to cancel. It’s not for another week so…’

  ‘No. No, don’t do that. It’s good. It’s a nice idea. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re not mad?’ Aiden asks.

  ‘No. Course not, you big eejit. I’m excited,’ I say.

  ‘You are?’ Aiden is so confused, it’s sweet.

  ‘Yup. I can’t wait to go.’

  ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa, young lady,’ Dad cuts in. ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘No,’ I say.

  ‘Kayla. No. No way.’ Dad inhales and stands up very straight.

  ‘Dad, I’m going,’ I say, trying to hide how exhausted this conversation is making me.

  ‘Kayla, this is not up for discussion.’ Dad points his finger as if he means business. ‘Aiden, I’m sorry. You’re a good lad organising a fundraiser in Kayla’s name but this is just crazy. She’s much, much too sick.’

  ‘Don’t blame Aiden,’ I say, annoyed. ‘I’m a big girl. I can make my own decisions.’

  ‘You are fifteen, Kayla,’ Dad reminds me, as if cancer has somehow stripped the knowledge of my age from me. ‘You most certainly cannot make your own decisions.’

  Aiden looks at me and fear and worry are scribbled all over his face. I know exactly what he’s thinking. If my dad is flipping out this much over Sports Day, imagine what he’ll say when I tell him that I plan to refuse all further treatment.

  ‘Zoo, zooooooo….’ Molly sings.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Molly. Will. You. Stop. It?’ Dad snaps.

  Molly begins to cry.

  Charlotte bends and gathers a whimpering Molly into her arms. ‘Shh, shh, shh,’ Charlotte says as Molly tucks her head into the crook of her mother’s neck.

  ‘Hey, Molly,’ Aiden says. ‘Do you want to come to the games room with me? I hear they have My Little Pony there.’

  Molly lifts her head but she’s clearly unimpressed. ‘Do they have Peppa Pig? I like her now.’

  ‘I think they do,’ Aiden whispers as if Peppa Pig is the best kept secret the hospital holds.

  ‘You sure you don’t mind, Aiden?’ Charlotte asks. ‘Especially when you’ve come all this way to see Kayla.’

  ‘Actually, I came all this way to see Molly,’ Aiden says, reaching his hand up to my sister. Molly grabs on tight and when Charlotte bends and puts Molly down her feet barely touch the ground as she skips her way towards the door hand-in-hand with my best friend. Aiden looks over his shoulder and smiles.

  I smile back, telling him without words that I’m ready to share my secret with Charlotte. I just have to hope she’ll understand the way Aiden did.

  ‘You coming, Mr Doran?’ Aiden asks. God love poor Aiden. I know he’d rather boil his head than be the decoy for my dad but I only need a few minutes to talk to Charlotte, and Aiden did ask if there was anything he could do to help.

  ‘Me. What?’ Dad says.

  ‘Come on, Daddy,’ Molly says. ‘I can show you the big telly.’

  ‘T-h-a-n-k y-o-u,’ I mouth, as Aiden winks at me and walks away with my dad’s hand firmly on his shoulder and my little sister skipping happily beside him.

  Forty-Two

  Charlotte

  ‘So how are you feeling?’ I ask, cringing as I hear the stupid question pass my lips.

  Kayla smiles, as if she knows how uncomfortable I am and she’s trying to hold in a laugh. I wonder if she’s equally as uncomfortable. I find myself trying to sneak a sideways glance at my watch. I know Heather never leaves Kayla alone for long, so I’m hoping she’ll be back soon. I hate feeling this way. I’ve known Kayla since she was a little girl. I’ve wiped her bottom after the potty for goodness’ sake, but we’ve grown apart in recent years. I’m not sure what her interests are or who her friends are. That Aiden boy seems nice. I wish I could think of something to talk about but my mind is blank and racing at the same time.

  ‘Charlotte I need your help,’ Kayla says, suddenly.

  ‘My help?’ Of all the things I was hoping Kayla might say, this wasn’t it.

  ‘Please,’ Kayla adds.

  My breath catches nervously and I wonder if Heather has stooped as low as putting Kayla up to asking for Molly’s stem cells. ‘What is it, sweetheart?’ I ask, nervously.

  ‘It’s big, Charlie,’ Kayla says. ‘Like, kinda huge.’

  ‘Oh, Kayla.’ I exhale. ‘Are you sure I’m the person you want to talk to about this? Maybe your mam would understand more.’

  ‘No. Not Mam.’ Kayla shakes her head and I can see the simple movement leaves her exhausted. ‘Charlie, please?’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ I say, trying to keep her calm. ‘Okay.’

  ‘You can’t tell my mam. You have to promise.’

  ‘Oh, Kayla.’

  ‘Promise, Charlie. Please promise.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, worried. ‘I promise.’

  ‘I’ve stopped getting better,’ Kayla blurts without warning. She’s not teary or upset. Her body language, although exhausted and worn out, is still confident and certain. She seems to have come to a grown-up acceptance that the rest of us just can’t seem to manage.

  ‘Kayla, I really think this is a conversation for you and your parents.’ I find myself looking over my shoulder at the door, hoping that someone, anyone, will walk in.

  ‘Charlie, you promised,’ Kayla reminds me, sinking a little lower in the bed. I hurry over to her and help her back up and re-fluff the pillows that are almost as weary as her.

  ‘You’re right. I did promise.’ I exhale again, making myself light-headed. I ease myself into the chair waiting beside Kayla’s bed and I take her hand. Her fingers curl around mine and I fight back tears as I remember her chubby little hand that used to hold mine when her dad and I first started going out. We’d take her on day trips and for walks in the park. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought I’d ever sit beside her hospital bed, facing the horrifying thought that she might leave this world before I do. ‘You know you can ask me anything.’

  A painful silence hangs between us, as if Kayla knows I’m bluffing. Just this morning I told Gavin again that asking for Molly to be put through more was too much. Too far. Too great an ask.

  ‘I overheard Mam and Dad and Jack talking about my options,’ Kayla says, as if she’s a forty-five-year-old woman discussing the best way to approach mortgage-intere
st relief. No fifteen-year-old should ever sound this solemn. ’They never check if I’m properly asleep; they never include me.’

  ‘Kay, look, it’s grown-up stuff and—’

  ‘And, you’re all still fighting.’ Kayla shakes her head, disappointed in us.

  I think about lying. Or at least trying to make out that we’re all simply having heated discussions, but I feel I owe Kayla more than a bullshit generic response. ‘Yes. We are all killing each other. But that’s stress, Kay. It happens. We’re all so stressed out.’

  ‘I know. And I’m sorry. I know it’s because of me.’

  ‘It’s not, Kay,’ I say, only just realising. ‘It’s because we’re afraid of losing you. We can’t bear it. None of us can.’

  ‘Does Molly know about any of this?’ Kayla asks.

  ‘No.’ I shake my head, guilt swirling in the pit of my stomach. I can’t bear to tell Kayla I have reservations about these damn trials.

  ‘Good. Don’t tell her.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t tell her,’ Kayla repeats.

  ‘Kayla, I know she’s only four, but I have to talk to her about this. In some way. I have to try to explain. Help her understand how she can help. She’ll be scared, but you’re her sister. She adores you.’

  ‘No,’ Kayla says, again. ‘She can’t help. I don’t want her to.’

  ‘Kayla.’

  ‘Charlie, I said no.’

  ‘Kayla, what exactly is it you want my help with?’ I ask, suddenly realising that whatever it is Kayla wants to discuss there is a reason she has chosen me and not her parents. This has unorthodox written all over it and I’m not sure I’m in a position to disagree. And I’m even more certain I’m neither qualified genetically or medically to agree. ‘Oh, Kayla what are you up to?’

  Forty-Three

  Charlotte

  There’s a knock on the door and I hold my breath, hoping Gavin is on the far side.

  ‘Come in,’ Kayla says in a sing-song voice that seems very grown-up for her. I can only imagine she’s adopted the tone to usher in the constant flow of medics who weave their way in out of her room daily.

  ‘Hey,’ Aiden says.

  ‘Where’s my dad and sister?’ Kayla asks, seeming surprised or perhaps disappointed to see her friend.

  ‘Molly was hungry so your dad said he’d take her to the canteen. I told him there’s a McDonald’s around the corner – so I think they’ve gone there.’

  I groan inwardly at the thought of Molly eating more junk food.

  ‘I best be going,’ I say, glancing towards the door. ‘I’ll call Gavin when I’m on the corridor and let him know that I have fresh soup waiting at home for Molly.’

  ‘What? No.’ Kayla shuffles to sit up straighter and she looks as if she’s in pain. Her floral bandana slips back a little and reveals that although she hasn’t lost her hair completely, there isn’t much more than a few stray strands left. Suddenly avoiding chicken nuggets and a sugary drink seems inconsequential. ‘You can’t go,’ she says. ‘We haven’t finished talking.’

  ‘We can chat more next time,’ I say, my breathing feeling laboured and uncomfortable. ‘I’m sure you and your friend want some alone time to catch up.’

  ‘Alone time.’ Kayla laughs. ‘Me and Aiden, God no.’

  Aiden. That’s his name, how could I forget?

  ‘Jeez, thanks,’ Aiden says, folding his arm and tilting his head to one side.

  ‘Ah, you know I didn’t mean it like that,’ Kayla says, blushing.

  ‘Have you asked her yet?’ Aiden says.

  ‘I was trying to but then you barged in.’

  ‘Oh, right. Sorry.’ Aiden blushes. ‘Do you want me to go again?’

  ‘Nah, you’re grand.’ Kayla smiles. ‘Charlie doesn’t mind if you’re here, do you Charlie?’

  I shrug. If Kayla is going to ask me something huge, or personal, I would rather we were alone. But of course I don’t say that.

  ‘Well go on then,’ Aiden encourages and I’m not sure how I feel about this boy. I must ask Gavin about him. I hope he’s not a bad influence on Kayla.

  Kayla takes a deep breath and says, ‘I want to buy a bakery.’

  A strange throaty gargle seems to escape my lips, but no actual words follow.

  ‘She’s serious,’ Aiden says, as if he suspects I need that clarification. And, to be honest, I do.

  I try not to look so blatantly flabbergasted. Of all the things I thought she might say this was definitely not one of them. ‘You what?’

  Kayla nods. Certain. ‘For my mam.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, understanding, but no less shocked. ‘Kayla that’s very sweet, but businesses like that cost thousands to set up. And even more to run. Especially in the early days.’

  Kayla nods. ‘I know.’

  ‘We learnt all about setting up small enterprises in school,’ Aiden says. ‘We did a whole project on it.’

  ‘Oh, did you now?’ I laugh, wondering how long these two have been concocting this master plan.

  ‘I know that the premises is only the start of it. I know it will take a lot of money to buy equipment and ingredients and stuff,’ Kayla says.

  ‘And insurance and marketing and accounts,’ I say, hating that I’m bursting their bubble.

  ‘I know. I know,’ Kayla says. ‘That’s why I need your help.’

  ‘Oh, Kayla.’ I shake my head. ‘Your dad and I don’t have that kind of money.’

  Kayla giggles. ‘I know that, silly.’

  Aiden laughs too. I’m glad they see the funny side.

  ‘But it was a very nice idea. I’m sure your mam will appreciate the sentiment,’ I say.

  ‘What? No. You can’t tell her.’ Kayla straightens suddenly and I know for sure she’s in agony.

  I hurry over to the bed, gently nudging Aiden out of the way. I ease Kayla back against the mound of pillows waiting behind her and hope that the tears gathering in my eyes won’t start to trickle down my face. Not in front of her.

  ‘There now,’ I say, when she’s resting. ‘Is that better?’

  Kayla takes some deep breaths, exhausted, and her eyes seek out Aiden’s. She’s obviously requesting he be her spokesperson for the rest of this conversation. I glance over my shoulder. Aiden looks nervous but determined and I decide that maybe I do like this boy after all.

  ‘Kayla needs an adult’s help to raise the funds,’ Aiden says.

  I don’t answer. Kayla is looking worryingly pale and I wonder if I should press the buzzer above her bed and call a nurse.

  ‘She can’t ask her parents.’

  ‘Mam can’t know,’ Kayla says, her voice crackling like static on the radio.

  ‘Kayla wants it to be a surprise for her mam,’ Aiden explains. ‘And Gavin is too stressed out to be any help.’

  ‘Kayla, you don’t look well,’ I say. ‘I think I should call a nurse, or your dad.’

  Aiden stops talking.

  ‘No,’ Kayla whispers. ‘Water.’

  I reach for the jug of water next to Kayla’s bed and pour some into the waiting glass. My hands are shaking as I lift the glass towards Kayla’s lips and she manages several sips.

  ‘It’s warm,’ she complains.

  ‘You look better already,’ I say, placing the glass back on the bedside table.

  ‘We want to try crowdfunding online,’ Kayla says, her eyes closed but her colour improving.

  I study her. She seems to have aged years in a matter of weeks. Dark circles hang under her beautiful blue eyes and her cheekbones protrude. Her neck seems longer than ever with no hair to cascade down around her shoulders and she’s painfully thin. My heart hurts.

  ‘Crowdfunding is where you put your story online. You know, like what’s happening and why you need the money. And then people donate whatever they want. It’s really very cool,’ Aiden says, excitedly.

  ‘I’m familiar with the idea. Thank you,’ I say. ‘I just don’t think it would work.’

 
‘Why not?’ Kayla asks.

  ‘Well, it’s pretty unorthodox. I’m not sure how people would feel about something like this.’

  ‘People love a sick-kid pity case,’ Kayla says, her eyes open again and colour returning into her cheeks. I wonder how often she wilts like that. So suddenly. It’s terrifying.

  ‘You’re not a pity case, Kay,’ Aiden says. I do like this boy.

  ‘You’re the same girl you have always been,’ I add.

  ‘It’s okay,’ Kayla says. ‘I know the point we’re at. The nurses are extra cheery when they come in to check my blood pressure. And the doctors make silly small talk to hide the fact they’re surprised I’m actually still alive. I know I’m screwed. They know it too. But Mam and Dad don’t know it.’

  My heart pinches as I realise Kayla is right. Gavin is so convinced Kayla is going to get better. We all are. I don’t think he’s thought for a moment what might happen if she doesn’t. Oh God…

  ‘Baking is the only thing Mam loves as much as she loves me. I don’t want her to lose both.’

  Aiden suddenly becomes very quiet.

  ‘You should sit down,’ I say, realising he has gone white.

  ‘Yeah.’ He flops into the bedside chair and I realise that if what Kayla says is true and she doesn’t have feelings for this boy, it doesn’t stop him being head-over-heels crazy about her.

  ‘There was a fund a few years ago for a girl about my age to go to the States to try some mental expensive treatment that we don’t have here. She was honest with people and said it mightn’t even work but people still donated so she could at least try,’ Kayla says.

  ‘People are generous,’ I agree.

  ‘And then there was another one where a family of this ten-year-old boy in a wheelchair wanted to take him to Disney because he loves Buzz Lightyear. They raised a fortune and gave the extra money to some charity,’ Aiden says, brightening up again.

  ‘Well who doesn’t want to meet Buzz Lightyear?’ Kayla smiles.

  ‘Kayla be serious,’ Aiden scolds like a teacher trying to demand a pupil’s attention in class. ‘Seriously though, Mrs Doran,’ Aiden says, making me feel as old as my mother-in-law. ‘If people donate so a family can go down Splash Mountain then I don’t see why they wouldn’t donate to this.’