by Tillie Cole
I tuned the radio to Poppy’s usual station, and sat back in my seat. Poppy’s soft voice began to fill the car, singing along to another pop song I didn’t know. It wasn’t long before I stopped watching the road and simply watched her. Like when she played the cello, her dimples deepened as she sang along to her favorite songs, smiling through the lyrics she loved. Her head swayed and her body moved in time to the beat.
My chest constricted.
It was a constant battle. Seeing Poppy so carefree and happy filled me with the brightest of lights, but knowing these moments were limited, finite, running out, brought only darkness.
Patches of pitch black.
And anger. The ever-present unwound coil of anger that waited to strike.
As if she could see me breaking, Poppy stretched out her hand and laid it on my lap. When I glanced down, her hand was palm-up, her fingers ready to intertwine with mine.
I let out a long exhale and slipped my hand through hers. I couldn’t look at her. I wouldn’t do it to her.
I knew how Poppy felt. Even though cancer was draining her of life, it was the pain of her family members and those who loved her that was killing her. When I got quiet, when I got upset, it was the only time her bright green eyes would dim. When I let the anger consume me, I could see the tiredness on her face.
Tired of being the cause of so much hurt.
Keeping her hand tightly in mine, I turned to look out the window. We drove along the twists and turns out of town. Bringing our joined hands to my mouth, I pressed kisses to Poppy’s soft skin. When we passed a sign for the coast, the heaviness lifted from my chest and I turned to Poppy.
She was already smiling.
“You’re taking me to the beach,” I stated.
Poppy nodded her head. “Yep! Your second-favorite place.”
I thought of the cherry blossoms in bloom in the grove. I envisioned us sitting under our favorite tree. And, unlike me as it was, I sent a prayer that she would make it that long. Poppy had to see the trees in their full flower.
She simply had to hold on that long.
“I will,” Poppy suddenly whispered. I met her eyes and she squeezed my hand like she was hearing my silent plea. “I’ll see them. I’m determined.”
The silence stretched out between us. A lump lodged in my throat as I silently counted the months to when the trees would be in blossom. About four months.
No time at all.
Poppy’s hand had become rigid. When I searched her face, I saw the pain again. The pain silently telling me that she was hurting, because I was hurting.
Forcing the lump aside, I said, “Then you will. God knows not to stand in your way when you’re determined.”
And like a switch, her pain faded and pure happiness shone through.
I settled back in my seat, watching the world outside flash by in a blur. I was lost in my own thoughts when I heard, “Thank you.” It was a tiny sound, barely a fraction of a whisper. But I closed my eyes, feeling Poppy’s hand relax.
I didn’t respond. She wouldn’t want me to.
Another song began on the radio, and like nothing had even happened, Poppy’s soft voice filled the car, and it didn’t let up. For the remainder of the journey I held onto her hand as she sang.
Making sure I drank in every note.
When we arrived at the coast, the first thing I saw was the tall, white lighthouse sitting on the edge of the cliff. The day was warm, the cold snap seemed to have passed, and the sky was bright.
There was barely a cloud in the sky as the sun sat high, beaming its rays over the still water. Poppy parked the car and cut the engine. “I agree, it’s my second-favorite place,” she said.
I nodded, watching the several families scattered around the soft sand. There were kids playing; seabirds circling, waiting for discarded food. Some adults were slumped against the dunes reading. Some were relaxing, eyes closed, lapping up the warmth.
“You remember coming here in the summer?” Poppy asked, joy lacing her soft voice.
“Ja,” I rasped.
She pointed underneath the pier. “And there, kiss seventy-five.” She turned to me and laughed at the memory. “We sneaked off from our families to stand under the pier, just so you could kiss me.” She touched her lips, her eyes unfocused, lost in thought. “You tasted of salt from the seawater,” she said. “Do you remember?”
“Ja,” I replied. “We were nine. You wore a yellow bathing suit.”
“Yes!” she said, through a giggle.
Poppy opened the door. She looked back, excitement on her face, and asked, “Are you ready?”
I got out of the car. The warm breeze blew my hair over my face. Taking a rubber band from my wrist, I pushed my hair back off my face into a loose bun, and walked to the trunk to help Poppy with whatever she’d brought.
When I glanced inside the large trunk, I saw she’d brought a picnic basket and another backpack. I had no idea what she had in that.
I reached forward to take everything from her when she tried to carry it all herself. She released them for me to hold, then she stopped, motionless.
Her stillness forced me to look up. I frowned, seeing her studying me. “What?” I asked.
“Rune,” she whispered and touched my face with her fingertips. She skirted them over my cheeks and along my forehead. Finally, a huge smile broke out on her lips. “I can see your face.”
Lifting onto her tiptoes, Poppy reached up and playfully tapped my hair, trapped in the bun. “I like this,” she declared. Poppy’s eyes tracked over my face one more time. Then she sighed. “Rune Erik Kristiansen, do you realize how utterly beautiful you are?”
I ducked my head. Hands ran down my chest. When I looked up, she added, “Do you realize how deeply I feel about you?”
I slowly shook my head, needing her to tell me. She placed my hand over her heart and her hand over mine. I felt its steady beat under my palm, the steady beat that got faster as my eyes locked on hers. “It’s like music,” she explained. “When I look at you, when you touch me, when I see your face … when we kiss, my heart plays a song. It sings that it needs you like I need air. It sings to me that I adore you. It sings that I’ve found its perfect missing part.”
“Poppymin,” I said softly, and she pressed a finger over my lips.
“Listen, Rune,” she said, and she closed her eyes. I did too. And I heard it. I heard it as loudly as if it were next to my ear. The steady beats, the rhythm of us. “When you’re near, my heart doesn’t sigh, it soars,” she whispered, as if she didn’t want to disturb the sound. “I think hearts beat a rhythm like a song. I think, that just like music, we’re drawn to a particular melody. I heard your heart’s song, and yours heard mine.”
I opened my eyes. Poppy stood, her dimples deep as she smiled and swayed to the beat. When her eyes opened a sweet giggle slipped from her lips. I pushed forward and crushed our lips together.
Poppy’s hands went to my waist, holding tightly to my t-shirt as I moved my lips slowly against hers, backing us up until she rested against the car, my chest flush against her body.
I felt the echo of her heartbeat in my chest. Poppy sighed as I slipped my tongue to slide against hers. Her hands tightened on my waist. When I drew back, she whispered, “Kiss four hundred and thirty-two. At the beach with my Rune. My heart almost burst.”
I breathed heavily as I tried to gather myself. Poppy’s cheeks were flushed, and she was breathing just as hard as me. We stayed that way, simply breathing, until Poppy pushed off the trunk and placed a kiss on my cheek.
Turning, she lifted the backpack and put it over her shoulder. I went to take it from her, but she said, “I’m not too weak yet, baby. I can still carry some of the weight.”
Her words contained a double meaning. I knew she wasn’t just talking about the bag, but about my heart.
The darkness within me, that she was incessantly trying to fight.
Poppy moved away, allowing me to gather everything else.
I followed her to a secluded spot on the far side of the beach, next to the pier.
When we stopped, I spotted the post where I had kissed her all those years ago. A strange feeling spread in my chest, and I knew that before we left to return home, I was going to kiss her there again. Kiss her as a seventeen-year-old.
Another kiss for her jar.
“Is here okay?” Poppy asked.
“Ja,” I replied, placing the things on the sand. Seeing the umbrella, and concerned that Poppy shouldn’t get too much sun, I quickly planted it in the sand and opened it to give her some shade.
As soon as the umbrella spread open, and a blanket was on the sand, I nudged my chin to Poppy, indicating for her to move beneath it. She did, quickly kissing my hand as she passed.
And my heart didn’t sigh. It soared.
My eyes were drawn to the quietly rolling ocean. Poppy sat down. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply.
Watching Poppy embrace nature was like watching an answered prayer. The joy in her expression seemed limitless, the peace in her spirit humbling.
I lowered myself to the sand. I sat forward, arms draping over my bent legs. I stared at the sea. I stared at the boats in the distance, wondering where they were going.
“What adventure do you think they’re on?” Poppy asked, reading my mind.
“I don’t know,” I replied honestly.
Poppy rolled her eyes and said, “I think they’re leaving it all behind. I think they woke up one day and decided there’s more to life. I think they decided—a couple in love, a boy and a girl—that they wanted to explore the world. They sold their possessions and bought a boat.” She smiled and lowered her chin, cradling it in her hands, her elbows resting on her bent knees. “She loves to play music, and he loves to capture moments on film.”
I shook my head and glanced at her from the side of my eye.
She didn’t seem to care, instead adding, “And the world is good. They’ll travel to far-off places, create music, art and pictures. And along the way they’ll kiss. They’ll kiss, they’ll love and they’ll be happy.”
She blinked as the gentle breeze whispered through our shade. When she looked at me again, she asked, “Doesn’t that sound like the most perfect adventure?”
I nodded. I couldn’t speak.
Poppy looked at my feet, and shaking her head, shuffled along the blanket until she was at the end of my legs. I raised an eyebrow in question.
“You have boots on, Rune! It’s a wonderfully sunny day and you have boots on.” Poppy then set to unzipping my boots, pulling each one off. She rolled my jeans up to my ankles and nodded her head. “There,” she said proudly. “That’s a slight improvement.”
Unable not to find the humor in her sitting there so smugly, I reached forward and pulled her over me, lying down so she lay above me.
“There,” I repeated. “That’s a slight improvement.”
Poppy giggled, awarding me a swift kiss. “And now?”
“A huge improvement,” I joked dryly. “A massive, asteroid-sized improvement.”
Poppy laughed harder. I rolled her over to lie beside me. Her arm stayed over my waist, and I ran my fingers down her soft exposed skin.
I stared silently at the sky. Poppy was quiet too, until she suddenly said, “It wasn’t long after you left that I began feeling tired, so tired that I couldn’t get out of bed.”
I grew still. She was finally telling me. Telling me what happened. Telling me it all.
“My mama took me to the doctor and they did some tests.” She shook her head. “To be honest, everyone thought I was acting different because you had left.” I closed my eyes and inhaled. “I did too,” she added, holding me tighter. “For the first few days, I could let myself pretend you’d just gone on vacation. But after weeks began to pass, the void you left within me began to hurt so bad. My heart was completely broken. On top of that, my muscles ached. I would sleep too much, unable to find any energy.”
Poppy fell silent. Then she continued. “We ended up having to go to Atlanta for more tests. We stayed with Aunt DeeDee while they figured out what was wrong.”
Poppy lifted her head and, with a hand on my cheek, guided my eyes to meet hers. “I never told you, Rune. I kept up the pretense that I was okay. Because I couldn’t bear to hurt you more. I could see you weren’t doing real good. Every time we video-chatted, I could see you getting angrier and angrier at being back in Oslo. The things you said were just not you.”
“So that visit to your Aunt DeeDee’s,” I cut in, “it was because you were sick. It wasn’t just a visit like you told me?”
Poppy nodded and I saw the guilt in her green eyes. “I knew you, Rune. And I saw you were slipping. You were always sullen in attitude. You were always darker in nature. But when you were with me, you weren’t. I could only imagine what finding out I was sick would do to you.”
Poppy’s head gently fell back to rest on my chest. “It wasn’t long before I received my diagnosis: advanced Hodgkin lymphoma. It rocked my family. At first, it rocked me. How could it not?” I held her closer, but Poppy inched back. “Rune, I know I’ve never looked at the world like everyone else. I have always lived each day to the fullest. I know I’ve always embraced aspects of the world no one else does. I think, in some way, it was because I knew I wouldn’t have the time to experience them like everyone else. I think, deep down, my spirit knew. Because when the doctor told us I would only have a couple of years, even with medication and treatment, I was okay.”
Poppy’s eyes began to shine with tears. Mine did too.
“We all stayed in Atlanta; we lived with Aunt DeeDee. Ida and Savannah started new schools. Daddy traveled for his work. I was home-schooled, or tutored in hospital. My mama and daddy prayed for a miracle. But I knew there was none to be had. I was okay. I kept my chin up. The chemo was hard. Losing my hair was tough.” Poppy blinked, clearing her vision, then confided, “But cutting you off almost killed me. It was my choice. The blame lies with me. I just wanted to save you, Rune. Save you from seeing me that way. I saw what it was doing to my parents and sisters. But you, I could protect. I could give you what my family didn’t get, life. Freedom. The chance to move on without pain.”
“It didn’t work,” I managed to say.
Poppy lowered her gaze. “I know that now. But believe me, Rune. I thought of you every single day. I pictured you, prayed for you. Hoped that the darkness I saw sprouting within you had faded with my absence.”
Poppy rested her chin on my chest once more. “Tell me, Rune. Tell me what happened to you.”
My jaw clenched, not wanting to let myself feel what I did then. But I could never say no to my girl. It was impossible. “I was angry,” I said, pushing her hair from her pretty face. “No one could tell me where you went. Why you cut me off. My parents wouldn’t get off my back. My pappa pissed me off 24/7. I blamed him for everything. I still do.”
Poppy opened her mouth to speak, but I shook my head. “No,” I bit out. “Don’t.”
Poppy closed her mouth. I closed my eyes, and forced myself to continue. “I went to school, but it wasn’t long before I fell in with people just as pissed at the world as me. It wasn’t long before I began to party. To drink, to smoke—to do the opposite of anything my pappa told me.”
“Rune,” Poppy said sadly. She didn’t say anything else.
“That became my life. I threw my camera away. Then I packed away everything that reminded me of you.” I barked out a laugh. “Shame I couldn’t pull out my heart and pack it away too. Because that prick wouldn’t let me forget you, no matter how much I tried. And then we returned. Back here. And I saw you in the hallway and all that anger I still carried in my veins turned into a tidal wave.”
I rolled onto my side, opened my eyes and ran my hand down Poppy’s face. “Because you looked so beautiful. Any image I had in my head of what you would look like at seventeen was blown out of the water. The minute I saw this brown hair, those big green eyes fixed on m
ine, I knew that any effort I’d made over the past two years to push you away was ruined. By one look. Ruined.”
I swallowed. “Then when you told me about…” I trailed off, and Poppy shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Enough now. You’ve said enough.”
“And you?” I asked. “Why did you come back?”
“Because I was done,” she said with a sigh. “Nothing was working. Each new treatment made no difference. The oncologist told us straight out: nothing would work. That was all I needed to make up my mind. I wanted to go home. I wanted to live out my remaining days at home, on palliative treatment, with those I loved most.”
Poppy shuffled closer, kissing my cheek, my head and, finally, my mouth. “And now I have you. As I know now it was meant to be. This is where we were meant to be at this precise moment in time—home.”
I felt a stray tear escape my eye. Poppy quickly brushed it away with her thumb. She leaned over me, across my chest and said, “I have come to understand that death, for the sick, is not so hard to endure. For us, eventually, our pain ends, we go to a better place. But for those left behind, their pain only magnifies.”
Poppy took my hand and held it to her cheek. “I really believe that tales of loss don’t always have to be sad or sorrowful. I want mine to be remembered as a great adventure that I tried to live as best as I possibly could. Because how dare we waste a single breath? How dare we waste something so precious? Instead, we should strive for all those precious breaths to be taken in as many precious moments as we can squeeze into this short time on Earth. That’s the message I want to leave behind. And what a beautiful legacy to leave for those I love.”
If, as Poppy believed, a heartbeat was a song, then right now, in this moment, my heart would be singing with pride … of the complete admiration I had for the girl I loved, at the way she saw life, at the way she tried to make me believe—make me believe that there could be a life beyond her.
I was sure that wasn’t the case, but I could see that Poppy was determined. That determination never failed.
“So now you know,” Poppy declared and rested her head on my chest. “Now, let’s say no more about it. We have our future to explore. We won’t be slaves to the past.” I closed my eyes, and she pleaded, “Promise me, Rune?”