by Kylie Key
"Shhhh," I said, "don't talk. Just rest. You didn't dream it, but I want you to dream about me." I smiled but my eyes watered. I wanted to be all that Malachi dreamed about. "I was so worried Malachi," I whispered.
He swallowed, coughed and attempted to clear this throat. I held the straw up to his lips. One suck drained his energy. "I...my..."
"Don't talk." I put the glass to the side.
"My. Angel," he said, promptly losing the battle with his eyelids, but his fingers fluttered and curled around mine, and with butterflies dancing in my stomach, I held on tight, as if our lives depended on it.
Malachi improved little by little every day, the color returning to his face and his cheeks filling out. My heart lifted every time I saw him, the pure joy unlike anything I had ever felt before. A gold medal, a top score, a perfectly executed vault — none of those came close to the feeling I got whenever I walked into his hospital room.
We celebrated Malachi's awakening (that's what Angie called it) on the weekend. He was still weak, but he'd been overwhelmed by the gifts and the balloons, and the messages from Bev and Bob. Mom and Dad had given him a phone, because, unbelievably, he didn't have one. I gave him an LA Rams cap, because I knew it was his favorite team. I’d also wrapped up his football, team photo and freshly laundered letterman jacket. He thought his Grandpa had sent it, so I didn't correct him. It didn't seem like the right time to mention that Damon and I had visited.
The onus was on getting Malachi to gain weight. He'd lost so much and it was taking him awhile to get his appetite back. He'd been so hopeful of eating some cake, but in reality only managed a few bites.
Paola and Daniela had helped me bake the cake, a chocolate one decorated as Benji Bear. Mom had said we could buy one but I wanted to do it myself. Paola had made a fair few birthday cakes in her time and she piped on a blue and white frosting shirt and cap, and Daniela had put pieces of candy for the eyes and buttons. Malachi's face had been a picture when we showed him and he couldn't believe he had presents. He said his birthday wasn't until March.
Cassian popped in, bringing Daniela along. She had organized the opening of the gifts, telling Malachi the order in which to open them. After struggling to pull the tape off of the first parcel — a soft fleecy blanket, she deemed he was too slow and offered to do it herself. Her bossiness made us all laugh.
It was probably one of the shortest parties ever, as Malachi fell asleep after Ella had played a tune on her violin. Ella and I took cake and brownies out to the nurses and care assistants, and Ella had a request to play for another burns patient. A man had fallen while carrying a hot pot of oil and burnt his hands. He told us he had learned to play the violin in his youth, more than sixty years ago, when he lived in London. He cried as Ella played Boccherini's Minuet. It was an emotional moment, to see this elderly gentleman, tears streaming down his face, his arms and hands heavily bandaged, unable to do anything for himself. Ella promised to come again and we went back to Malachi’s room, both of us reeling. It didn’t seem right that someone should have to suffer at that stage of their life.
Malachi was still sleeping, so Ella came in and collected her things.
“I can’t imagine the pain they must be in,” Ella said, ‘both Malachi and Mr Levinson.” Our glances cast to Malachi, his head tilted to the side, looking like he was in a peaceful slumber. Belying the fact that half of his body had been grafted with new skin and was wrapped in compression bandages.
“Poor Mr Levinson. He’s nearly 80. It must be horrible to know you’ll have to rely on other people for the rest of your life.”
“I guess we don’t realise how lucky we are,” Ella said, “until we see someone who’s suffering.”
“I know,” I said, “to think I cried about my knee. My knee is fixed. It’s going to be okay. But I thought my world had ended.”
Ella frowned. “Your knee was a serious injury. It needed major surgery. Don’t downplay it, Domi.”
“But it wasn’t life or death,” I said.
“Well, to think I used to cry and complain about doing music practice,” Ella said. “What a spoilt brat I must’ve been. I’d shout at Mom because she made me practice piano for a whole hour!” She shook her head with disbelief and disgust.
I smiled, Ella was being a little hard on herself.
“I’m glad you came,” I said, giving her a hug.
“I’m glad I came,” Ella said, “and I’ll come again. If Malachi can stand my music! And I’ll bring more brownies next time.”
After she left, I tidied the room, rearranging the bedside cabinet, hanging up his letterman jacket, and setting up his phone for him, downloading apps and music.
He stirred after a while and I squeezed his hand. He opened his eyes and murmured, "You're still here?"
I shuffled closer to him, reaching out to touch his cheek. "Where else would I be?"
"With your friends?"
"Are you trying to get rid of me?"
He tried to crack a smile, "Thank you."
"Thank you," I said, clasping his hand. He possibly didn't know how much he'd scared all of us in the past week. To have him off of the ventilator and in the land of the living felt like all my prayers had been answered. Right then there was nothing more I needed in my life.
"Lie next to me," he said and I giggled, it was an outrageous suggestion. I couldn't fit on the bed, no I'd likely bump him or hurt him. "Please," he whispered.
I stared for a moment, mentally calculating how much space there was, and actually considering that if I laid on my side and curled up my legs, I might be able to squeeze in. I smoothed the sheet and slipped off my shoes, checking through the window that no one was there. The nurse wasn't due in with his medication for another hour.
Malachi stretched out his good arm and let me snuggle in on the good side of his chest.
"Tell me if I'm hurting you," I said, and I moved carefully, allowing my legs to entangle with his good one.
"You make me so happy," he said.
"You make me so happy," I said.
"Thank you for being here."
"Thank you for being here."
"Are you just repeating everything I say?"
“No." I giggled. Being this close to him, being this intimate had raised my heart rate considerably. "Ooh," I said, and I reached back to the cabinet to grab Benji Bear. I nestled him in between us, like we were a little family.
"You make me forget," he said.
"Forget what?" I asked, with curiosity.
"My reality."
My chest filled with a heaviness, because he was right. Lying together, pretending to be a family, tucked up in his arms, gloriously happy, was a temporary thing. In a few hours I would go home, and tomorrow he would have his bandages changed and there would be another skin graft, and another. For years to come.
And for me, tomorrow would bring more rehab, more training, for a scholarship which could vanish into thin air. My own reality was no less daunting.
But at that moment, snuggling together, we could forget.
“I know you were with me the whole time, Dominique," Malachi said.
"I tried to be," I said, "but you know Mom and Dad, they think school's important.” I rolled my eyes.
"It is," Malachi said sternly. ”Don’t give up on your dreams, Dominique.”
“Don’t give up on your dreams, Malachi.”
“Are we doing this again?” Malachi laughed.
“What was your dream?” I tickled at the base of his throat, “Besides a minivan and a house with an orange grove? Like, what was your most outrageous, genie-in-a-bottle type of dream?”
Malachi didn’t hesitate. “That I’d kick the winning field goal to win the Super Bowl.”
I sat up to face him. “Like Benji scored the winning touchdown?”
Malachi grinned like crazy. “Yeah, Benji is living my dream.” He held up Benji and then danced him next to my face. “Remember how Benji fell down in cross country and hurt his leg, but
he kept running? Remember how he helped the little girl cross the finish line?”
A shudder ran through me. “You remember me telling you that?”
Malachi nodded.
“So, what are you saying? That I’m Benji with the sore leg? Or the little girl who needed help?”
Malachi put Benji down on his chest. “I’m Benji,” he said, “and you’re the little bear I’m going to help reach the finish line.”
I stared at him, stunned, my heart, my breath at a standstill. I had never heard words more perfect in my whole life. Tears seeped from the corners of my eyes and still, I couldn’t move. The brilliance, the magnificence of love was overwhelming.
I lowered my mask and reached my lips to his, briefly, a soft caress. He wiped at the tears on my cheek and fixed my mask back into place.
“Remember, don’t give up on your dreams, Dominique,” he said.
“Dreams change, Malachi,” I whispered, as I slid back beside him.
“I know. You already changed mine,” he said, and he wrapped his arm around me and we lay there together, entwined as one, his heartbeat the most precious sound in the world.
CHAPTER 14
I was already in bed on Wednesday night when Damon messaged me. He turned on the video link and I was surprised to find my brother had grown out his facial hair and had stubble across his chin and cheeks.
"Wow," I said, "did you forget to take your razor?" He looked so much older. And more mature.
Damon scowled, ignoring my comment. "I hear Malachi is getting better," he said, "I meant to call you earlier but I've been pretty busy. With classes and everything."
I immediately felt bad for criticizing his appearance. "Oh, yes," I said and gave him a complete rundown on Malachi's current condition, his party and how I'd seen his father.
“Well, I'm glad Malachi is on the road to recovery. By the way, how's your knee?"
"Yeah, it's good. It's great to be back training."
"Well, keep it slow and steady. Don't overdo it. Hey," he said, and he changed the angle of his phone so his face was more distant, "hey, I have something to tell you." He paused and clicked his tongue. "I've been talking to Ella."
"I know," I said, "She told me. I'm glad you told her about Malachi."
"Yeah." He paused and pushed his hair out of his eyes and rubbed his stubbled chin. “We've been talking. A bit. Well, a lot."
"Did she tell you she came in to see Malachi?" I had a sudden panic that Ella might have told him that Malachi had kissed me. It had only been a peck on the forehead, but she'd seen it. I tried to steer the conversation away from that. "She played the violin for his party. Well, it wasn't a real party. Then she played for another patient, an old man who burnt his hands. Malachi loved it, well, everyone did. She's so talented."
"Yeah, she is talented," he said, "she's been helping me with some music stuff."
“That’s cool," I said. "She made some brownies for Malachi too. You know, those ones you like. Though he couldn't really eat that much, but it was nice that she did. You would've scoffed them all." I was prattling and I knew it.
"Her brownies are so good. Yeah, I wish I could've been there.” Damon brought the phone closer, so he was looking straight at me. "Dom. Ella and I are kind of together."
I frowned, having no understanding of the words he'd just said.
"We kissed. Before I went away." My mouth dropped open, I could see it in the tiny inset in the corner of my screen. "And we've been talking. And I'm going to come home this weekend."
I felt like I was dumbstruck but I managed to squeak out, "To see her?"
Damon laughed. "To see your ugly face mainly, because I miss you! But yeah, hopefully we'll catch up." I couldn't process it, Damon and Ella? I'd caught them singing and playing the piano together one time, but that hadn't lead me to believe there was anything between them. And she'd been at Damon's farewell party, but I couldn't recall them talking to one another. She'd gone bright red when I mentioned his name once, but Ella blushed easily. "Hey Dom, Ella wanted to tell you, but I said I'd rather tell you myself. Like, I really like her." He paused. "Dom, are you okay?"
"You kissed?" I don't know why I thought it was any of my business.
"Just once.” He laughed. "The day I left."
"She didn't say anything to me," and I felt momentarily betrayed, on both their parts. Ella had been my best and most loyal friend in the past few weeks. She'd been supportive and understanding. And Damon, my big brother, he'd been apologetic that he was 400 miles away and unable to be here for me.
"She wanted to Dom, but she knows you've been worried about Malachi. And like I said, we've just been talking and we're kind of keen to see where it might go. I mean, it might not even-"
"I want you to be together," I interrupted, my irrational and misplaced sense of betrayal vanishing, "I do. You're perfect. I don't know why I didn't think of it myself." My best friend and my brother, two wonderful, wonderful people. "You should be together."
His brow furrowed and his eyes squinted. "You're okay with it?"
“Yes,” I said, staring at him wide-eyed. "I love Ella, she's a beautiful person. And you..." I shrugged. "You're okay, I guess."
Damon sneered at me and I made a stupid face back. We then put filters on our faces, skeletons, aliens, clowns, rabbits, laughing at how silly we looked. It was immature, but my heart thumped. With so much happening in the past few weeks it had been easy to disengage from anything outside my bubble. And I missed my brother, missed him a lot.
I debated whether I should call Ella. I was dying to talk to her but it was quite late. I put my phone down and slid under my covers. Milo wandered from the foot of my bed to nestle on the pillow next to mine. I gave her a pat and she purred in contentment.
"I feel the same," I said aloud to Milo, "life is good."
DAMON HAD ARRIVED LATE on Friday night and when I returned home from babysitting, Mom was fussing around him like it was the return of the prodigal son. Mom wanted details on every class he took, every tutor he had, every meal he ate, every person he'd ever spoken to. It was obvious she didn't know about Ella.
“So, what are your plans? Do you want me to book a restaurant for dinner tomorrow night?" Mom asked. "I can rally the family."
"No," Damon said, quite adamantly, "no, I've already sorted a tennis match with Cash tomorrow morning and I'll go see Grandad for Sunday lunch." He then addressed me directly. "And I'll visit Malachi with you, and then you and me can hang out."
I blinked and pointed from him to me with an expression of disbelief. "You and me?"
"Yeah," he nodded repeatedly, which I understood to mean you, me and Ella.
"Oh, I have plans with Ella tomorrow," I said with a cheeky smirk.
"That's cool," he smirked back.
"That'll be nice," Mom said, none the wiser. "It's been a lot of driving Damon, you must be tired."
Damon faked a yawn and stretched. "Yep, I'll head up to bed," he said, and I knew he was keen to talk to Ella.
Ella had met me in the parking lot the day after Damon had revealed their connection. She approached me with caution, making conversation about our English essays first, and then asking about Malachi.
I updated her on Malachi's chest x-ray, knowing she was eager to mention Damon, but I was a little bit naughty in drawing out her anxiety.
"Um, so do you have plans for the weekend?" she asked, her makeup unable to hide her flaming cheeks.
"No. Do you?"
"Oh," she said, obviously disappointed that I hadn't said Damon was coming home. "Oh. No. Probably not."
"I'm helping with gymnastics in the morning. The recreation class has testing so I'll give them a hand."
"Oh, oh, sure," she stuttered, "that's good." Her cheeks turned crimson. I felt madly evil and couldn't help from bursting into laughter.
"Ella, Ella, Ella," I sung her nickname to the tune of Rihanna's Umbrella song, "I know. Damon told me!"
Her eyes widened in a combi
nation of embarrassment and relief. "Oh Domi," and she collapsed onto me in a hug. "I thought you might be mad and I didn't want you to be. I was so worried. I wanted to tell you, but Damon said to wait. And I don't know what's happening between us, but we're trying to write songs together. That's all we're doing."
"Really?" I pulled back and challenged cheekily, "A little bird told me he kissed you."
I didn't think it was possible for Ella's face to get redder, but it did. I could almost feel the heat emitting from her skin.
"Oh no," she said, covering her face and lowering her head, "I hope he didn't say I was a terrible kisser."
"Hey, I'm the terrible kisser, remember? Taylor Jensen's expert opinion." I could make fun of the fact now, but four months ago I thought my life had ended because of it. I realized right then how much I'd grown over the summer.
"Taylor who?" Ella smiled, and I appreciated her unwavering loyalty.
"Look," I said, playfully covering my hands to my ears, "I do not want to know about Damon's kissing ability in any shape or form."
We had laughed and hooked arms and walked to the lockers together, both of us on cloud nine.
Ella brought her violin and Damon brought his guitar for our visit to Malachi. Neither of them were shy about singing in front of us, it was like they knew they had limited time so wanted to practice as much as they could. Damon's songs staggered me, his lyrics deep and personal, especially the songs about his tumultuous relationship with Lauren. I had never known there was so much drama between them. There was something seamless about the way their music blended and the way they played together, so in tune with one another (pardon the pun).
They played for some other patients in the ward, and then asked me if I wanted to drive to the beach with them. Of course I didn't, but we planned to meet up later at home. I hoped Damon would tell Mom and Dad about the relationship because I could see that covering it required effort. And it was effort I wanted to put into Malachi.
Malachi’s appetite had recovered in the past few days and his cheeks were filling out again, the gaunt look fading. He napped after Damon and Ella left, and I worked on my chemistry homework, then did various exercises for my knee, some squats, lunges and leg extensions.