Dying Wish

by Margaret McHeyzer

  “Yeah?”

  Elijah washes the top of the van, and I wash the sides. “Yeah, it’s been great. We’re hoping to have raised enough to send Travis and his parents to Hawaii,” I say as I wash his extremely filthy car.

  “Make sure you wash it well, and I’ll give you a tip,” the guy says. He’s dressed casually, nothing too flashy. But his van looks like he’s found every available muddy puddle and driven through it. A real feat considering we haven’t had rain in close to a year.

  This ass better give us more than double the fee we’re asking. His van is pure filth. We enlist Amelia’s help to get this one done, because just when we thought we were slowing down, more vehicles pull into the parking lot.

  “Where’s everyone coming from?” I call out to Elijah.

  “They’re here because of me,” the van guy says.

  I stand from where I’m cleaning and look at him in question. What does he mean they’re here because of him? Who the hell is this guy? “I don’t get it.”

  “I stumbled across a news story about this today, and called a few buddies. I thought you’d appreciate the cash.” He turns and looks at the cars lining up. And we’re talking nice cars, expensive cars we just don’t see driving around town.

  I rub my hand across my forehead, still unsure of what’s going on. “Can you explain it to me?” Man, I’m so exhausted. Washing cars, selling ribbons, talking to people trying to promote awareness of teen cancer.

  “Not yet, and by the way, you’ve missed a spot,” the van guy says to me.

  Elijah laughs as he starts to dry the clean parts of the car off. The van guy chuckles as he walks toward one of his friends who’s waiting. They’re watching us and talking.

  “I’m . . .”

  “Don’t tell me,” Elijah interrupts me. “You’re hungry.”

  “Smartass, I was going to say I’m tired.”

  “Close enough.”

  Amelia remains quiet, but sniggers at us. When we finish the van, I go over to where its owner is standing with his buddy. They’re both laughing and talking. They’ve both got a soda in their hands, although it’s from a rival company to the one on the van we washed. “I reckon the boss might have something to say about that.” I point to the soda in his hand.

  The other guy laughs. “The boss is a cool guy; I know him personally. Did you make sure you got the spot you missed?” He walks over to inspect his van. “Looks good, blondie. I better write you a check.”

  Oh man, a check. I roll my eyes and slump my shoulders. A check is a pain in my ass. I just wanted to be able to count the money and give it to the Clarks. Now we’re getting checks too. But anything is better than nothing, I suppose.

  He writes a check and hands it to me, then starts walking back toward his car. I go to fold it, but there’s a mistake on it.

  “Hey,” I call out as I run after him.

  “What is it?” he asks from beside his car.

  “Is this a mistake? This is for like five thousand dollars.”

  “What the hell?” I hear Elijah gasp and he comes over to me.

  “No mistake. Turns out, I pulled some strings. The boss is a good guy.” Van guy smacks his hand down once on the hood of the van.

  “Wait, you’re the boss?” I ask, perplexed, stunned and excited all in one emotion.

  “Nah, but I’m a good friend. I told him what you kids are doing here, and he was happy to send you his dirtiest van, and his money. Them . . .” He points to the exquisite cars waiting their turn. “They’re good friends too. Don’t take anything less than four figures, they can all afford it,” he yells loud enough for his buddies to hear.

  “Good for you,” one yells back and flips him the bird.

  “No less than four figures. Have a great day.”

  With my mouth hanging open I stare as he gets in the van, and drives away. The next three cars come up in the line, and we all start washing them.

  Just as we finish with these three cars—and collect another eight thousand between them—Triple Threats rocks up and sets up their equipment. Jace sees me and gives me a nod. The next thing we know, we have live music going on. This is turning out to be an awesome day.

  By the time we get through all the cars, it’s late. The sun has gone down, and the food trucks have started to pack up. The local news reporter left shortly after the principal of the school turned up and she got an interview with him.

  “Hey,” I say to all the food truck owners. “Thank you so much.”

  Elijah fist bumps all the owners and thanks them too. With everyone almost gone, it’s just Nicki, Mike, our principal, Elijah, and me.

  “How do you think the day went?” Mr. Davies, our principal, asks.

  “I think the kids did a fantastic job, Samuel,” Nicki replies.

  “If only Mr. Turner applied himself at school work the way he applies himself to activities like this.” He gives Elijah a pointed stare, tempered by a grin.

  Elijah’s eyes widen and he quickly turns his head away. I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Ha!” I jab Elijah in the side.

  “What are you laughing at, Miss Menzies?”

  Elijah starts coughing his laughter. “So, how did the day go?” Mike asks when we settle down from laughing.

  “I have no idea, but if we can all spend some time counting, then we’ll know.” Elijah gives everyone something to count. I get the checks, which is quite exciting because I know we got a few one thousand and two thousand dollar checks. And with the five thousand the van guy gave us, I know we’ve had to hit easily thirteen thousand in total.

  We all spend time counting, recounting, and triple counting. By the time we’re done, we stare at the total with our mouths gaping open.

  “Holy shit,” Elijah breathes.

  “Oh my,” Nicki says.

  “Are we sure that’s right?” Mr. Davies asks.

  “Well . . . who would’ve thought?”

  I don’t say anything. I stare at the total, unable to believe the amount we’ve managed to raise.

  The number on the page is amazing. Actually, it’s beyond amazing. I’m thunderstruck. “Becky, what do you think?” Elijah asks as he nudges me.

  I stare up at him, blinking like crazy. “This amount of money will send them to Hawaii, and pay for surfing lessons with enough money left over to do whatever else they want when they’re there,” I finally manage to say some words.

  “Yes, and all because of you two,” Mr. Davies says. “Speaking of which, I’m glad you’re all here together. I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  Suddenly the dollar figure isn’t so important as the tone in Mr. Davies’ voice. “What is it?” Nicki asks. “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course. Alice’s anniversary is coming up soon, and I’d like to cordially invite you to the inaugural cancer day fundraiser.”

  I turn to look at Nicki and Mike, and both have smiles on their faces, while Nicki has tears in her eyes. “How did this happen?” she asks.

  “These two here got me thinking.” He points to Elijah then me. “They do a lot for the community, which made me think we can do more. So on Friday, the day before Alice’s anniversary, all the students will wear blue, to symbolize teen cancer, and I’ll be asking for them to bring in a small donation so we can donate it to teen cancer research. The school will call it the Alice Brackman Teen Cancer Research Fund, and I’ll be donating it in her honor.”

  “Oh my God,” Nicki says and claps a hand to her mouth.

  “Wow,” I whisper and hang my head down so no one sees the tears sitting on the rims of my eyes.

  “That’s an incredibly generous gesture,” Mike replies. “We’d love to be here for that day.”

  I nod my head, unable to say anything. Emotions have taken over, and the full force of today is hitting me hard.

  Elijah wraps his arms around me and hugs me.

  He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to. His actions alone speak volumes.

  Inc
luding the words neither of us are ready to say aloud.

  Today’s been exhausting. Mr. Davies was true to his word, and made today Teen Cancer Day at school. He’s honored Alice by creating the ‘Alice Brackman Teen Cancer Fund,’ and has promised to hold a fundraiser on this day every year.

  Becky and I were over at the Brackman’s house for dinner, when he called to say the first event had raised over two thousand dollars, and he’d be donating it all to teen cancer research in memory of Alice.

  When I dropped Becky off at her house, she was on the verge of tears, so I stayed with her until she fell asleep. Today’s been emotional for all of who were fortunate enough to have Alice in our lives, but tomorrow will be even worse.

  As I lay in my own bed with my hands beneath my head, looking up at my ceiling, I can’t help but let my mind wander to this time last year.

  I was preparing to say goodbye to the only girl I thought I’d ever love. She was someone who made me want to be a better version of myself. Not for her, but for me to know I was worthy of her love.

  She lay in her bed that night, and I knew we only had hours before she’d be taken from me. It wasn’t her pale skin, or the dark rings beneath her eyes. It wasn’t even her difficulty breathing.

  Her soul touched mine. It looked into my heart and warned me that we only had hours, minutes, seconds left before she took her last breath. She had told both Becky and me that her dying wish was for us to help her parents through the difficult time of losing her.

  It’s only now, almost a year later that although I know she made us promise to help her parents, what she was really doing was making sure we were all there for each other. I had lost my way, simply drifting from day to day rejecting any real connection to anyone after Alice died.

  Becky had lost her best friend in the world, and a part of her died the day Alice did. She had lost her sister—as she calls her—and herself. The love she once had for music was cremated the day Alice was. It was the day her music died.

  I saw that death in her eyes the night we rekindled our friendship under Alice’s tree. Her body was going through the motions, her mind consumed with sorrow. I knew this, because that’s how I was feeling too.

  When Becky and I embarked upon the journey of helping each other with Alice’s bucket list, and reconnecting with Nicki and Mike, something slowly sparked the fire which had been extinguished by Alice’s death.

  The flame grew over time, and now we’re all bonded by one common dominator—the love we have for Alice. The love we’ll always have for Alice.

  My phone vibrates on my bedside table. I turn to grab it and notice we’re only moments from the day my Alice said goodbye.

  Grabbing my phone, I slide to see the message which is from Becky:

  I woke up.

  R U OK?

  No. I’m crying.

  I’m on my way.

  I stand and reach for my jeans.

  Immediately she replies with:

  Please don’t. I just need to know you’re okay.

  I’m not, I’m on the verge of losing my shit because the girl I once loved passed away one year ago and the girl I love now keeps pushing me away.

  If you need me, I’ll be here.

  I hate not going to her, or holding her when I know she’s sad and crying.

  Thank you. X.

  Her reply tears at my heart. I want to go to her, and I want to tell her, but neither of us are ready for this, and I’m not sure we ever will be.

  As I put my phone down, I grab the key necklace Alice gave me, and slide it over my head. Tomorrow is the one day of the year I’ll wear it, because I don’t ever want to lose or ruin it. I’d hate myself if anything ever happened to it. Lying back in bed I look up to the ceiling and close my eyes, trying to sleep.

  I wish I could sleep the entire day away, but for some reason, I doubt that’s going to happen.

  As I drift off to sleep, my heart becomes heavier.

  I dream about a girl I love, and one day she may even love me back.

  The persistent vibration of my phone wakes me.

  “Yeah,” I say in a croaky voice before I even have a chance to see who’s calling me.

  “Get your ass to Alice’s tree.”

  “Huh?” Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I lean an elbow on my knee and scrub my hand over my face. “What are you talking about, Becky?” Checking the time, I notice the hour. It’s just after four in the morning, and in exactly twelve hours, it’ll be the anniversary of Alice’s death.

  “Just shut up, and listen.”

  “What?” I blink like crazy and try to return to the world of the living from the world of the sleeping.

  “It’s raining.”

  Her words hit me hard in the chest. It’s raining. “It hasn’t rained for nearly a year,” I say. The sound of the water pelting on my window confirms that it’s definitely raining. Alice’s bucket list, number fourteen—dance in the rain. Becky is calling me because this is our chance to dance in the rain, for Alice. “Get ready. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say to her. I’m already up and changing into the first thing my hands touch, a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.

  “No need to pick me up. I’m already waiting under her tree for you.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  “I’ll be waiting for you.” Her voice is wispy, and pulls straight at my heart.

  I run out to my car and try to start it, but it doesn’t kick over. “Fuck!” I yell as I keep trying. It’s doing nothing, it’s dead . . . lifeless. But that’s not going to stop me from fulfilling Alice’s bucket list.

  Getting out of my car, I shove my keys into my pocket and start running toward Alice’s house. The rain is persistently falling. It’s getting in my eyes and I’m struggling to see.

  It won’t stop me. Nothing will.

  I get to Alice’s house, open the side gate and run to the back. Becky’s sitting on the stone bench and when she sees me, she stands and walks toward me.

  I might be breathless, but nothing takes my breath away more than Becky does, standing in the rain in her pajamas, soaking wet, waiting . . . for me.

  When I reach her, I take her hand, and bring her tight to my body. Sliding my left hand to rest on top of her ass, I grip her opposite hand tightly in my right and rest it against my chest.

  Her big brown eyes are glued to mine. Her pretty mouth is slightly open as her breath hitches. “Dance with me,” I say to her.

  “Forever,” she whispers.

  Slowly we start dancing, in the rain. The water continues to fall, but it doesn’t seem to bother either of us. She’s holding me tightly. Her grip on my hip is possessive, and I love it.

  “Do you feel weird dancing to no music?” she asks as she keeps looking up at me.

  This may be the only opportunity I’ll ever have to tell her how I feel. To lay my heart on the line and hope she’ll be there to pick it up. “Nothing is strange when I’m with you, Rebecca.” I swallow hard, hoping and praying I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life. Becky shivers and bites on her bottom lip. “Are you cold?”

  Help me out, Alice. Please.

  She shakes her head and looks down to my chest. Her feet stop moving, as she stares at my soaking wet t-shirt. “What . . . what’s this?” She fingers the necklace Alice gave me.

  “Alice gave it to me the night we . . .” My heart beats widely out of my chest. “The night we were together for the first time. She told me, and I remember it so clearly, she said . . .” I pause and thumb at the silver key as it sits on its leather cord. “In life and in death, remember your key will always fit my heart.” I smile, recalling every moment of that night. The night I fell in love with her more deeply than I ever thought was possible. The night she thought I was sleeping when she asked me to remember her with love, not hurt and sorrow.

  “She told you your key will always fit her heart?” Becky questions in a weak and strangled voice.

  I can see, even though it
’s raining, tears are falling from her eyes. Her shoulders are slightly shaking as she tries to take deep breaths. “She did.” I scrunch my brows together, watching Becky.

  She closes her eyes, and lowers her head. Her sobs are getting stronger, her body is shaking more.

  “What’s happening? Talk to me, Becky.”

  My body is becoming more rigid, filled with stress because Becky’s crying and not talking. It takes her long moments, the rain still falling, soaking us to the bone.

  Becky lifts her hand to her throat, where she reveals her necklace. A heart. The heart to fit my key. “Alice gave me this, days before she died. She told me to treasure my heart, because when the right man comes along, he’ll have the key to unlock my love.”

  Carefully I fit my key into her heart.

  It’s a perfect fit.

  We fit.

  We are meant to be together. Alice was my first love, the girl who helped me to become the man I am today. And Becky is my last love, the woman who’s captured my heart.

  “Rebecca,” I say as I look down into her eyes.

  Blinking, she stares at me, and drags the corner of her mouth between her teeth. Her eyes travel to my lips, then back up to my eyes.

  “I love it when you call me by my full name.”

  Lacing my hands through her wet hair, I tilt her head up. “I’m not going to fight this anymore.” Leaning down, I smash my mouth to hers. A small groan whispers past her full lips, and I capture the sound as I delve inside her mouth.

  “Rebecca,” I murmur into her lips. Desperately she knots her hand into my hair, and drags me closer so our bodies are almost entwined. She’s pressing against me, and my heart’s beating frantically against the swell of her breasts. She runs her hand beneath my t-shirt and trails her fingers up my spine.

  We’re drawing something out of each other. It’s more than a kiss; it’s more than a primal need. Becky’s soul is connecting with mine. We’re one. Together.

  She pulls away only to say the most important three words in life. “I love you.”