by Guy, Caitlin
“Come on. Let’s get you up to bed,” he says.
He wraps his arms around me like a cradle and lifts me into the air. I must weigh next to nothing, because he barely struggles up the stairs. His greatest worry is preventing my head or legs from hitting a wall or banister.
Everyone follows up the stairs. My eyes briefly meet Josh’s and then I am swept into my bedroom. Mum pulls back the covers and Dad places me on the bed. They swaddle me in blankets, but I still feel cold.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks. He caresses the side of my face. I try to think of something to say. Eventually I decide on the truth.
“Not good,” I whisper.
Dad nods.
“How bad is the pain, Allie?” Dad asks.
Jayden and Josh stand in the doorway, looking in. I take a deep breath and feel the air make its way into my body. When I concentrate on the pain, it seems to multiply, stabbing at my every muscle and organ. It is quickly becoming one of the worst days I can remember, with every passing second being longer and harder than the next.
“Really bad,” I say. My voice is almost inaudible. My throat batters at my attempt to speak, refusing to let the words emerge unscathed.
“Go get the painkillers,” Dad tells my mum. She nods and leaves the room. Dad pulls his phone from his pocket. “I’m just going to call Dr. Marsden.”
I close my eyes. He must take that as consent as I hear him walk from the room, his soft tread fading away as he leaves. My mind drifts without thought. The pain is the only thing I can focus on at the moment.
Another set of footsteps enter the room and I fight to open my eyes.
“Hey, Allie.” Josh looks down on me with wide eyes and a drained face. He looks sadder than the puppies in shop windows, the ones that are lonely and ignored by passersby.
“Hi, Josh,” I reply, although it sounds nothing like me. My voice only succeeds in deepening his frown and drawing more moisture to his eyes.
“Keep fighting okay, Allie?”
I blink and try to nod. The slight movement is enough. He sees it and there is a little more hope in his eyes. Then there is a creak from my door and I see Jayden entering the room. I try to smile. It hurts. Everything hurts.
No one speaks, even as Mum re-enters the room and feeds me the painkillers. There are about four different pills to take in conjunction, each larger than the last. Swallowing is next to impossible as my throat closes up. Getting them down takes every last ounce of my energy and about three minutes of near-choking.
Dad appears at my side, phone in hand. I didn’t see him come in.
“What did he say?” Mum asks.
Dad kneels at my bed and places his hand on my shoulder. “He says there’s nothing more he or the hospital can do. The painkillers will kick in. You’ll be more comfortable at home. Just try to rest.”
Tears spill from the corners of my eyes. “Don’t go.” I manage to squeeze the words out.
I close my eyes and drift in and out of sleep. Every time I open them, there is somebody different sitting at my side. My room smells like coffee and there are mugs and glasses of water on every surface. Each time I wake, I glance at the clock on my bedside table. The hours pass faster and soon enough, night falls and the urgent whispering stops. None of them leave my side.
At one point I am roused by Mum’s voice telling Jayden and Hailey to go home ad get some sleep. Jayden refuses with a firm, no-nonsense tone. I fall back asleep. The next time I wake, he is by my side. A mattress and several of our more comfortable chairs have been dragged into my room. Josh and Hailey sleep by the window. Mum also snoozes in a reclining chair and Dad is awake, stroking her hand. Jayden sits by my side, leaning on the bed, and looking at my face.
My breath catches. His face has aged ten years in the last twelve hours. I try to raise my hand to his face, but it won’t move. Air comes in shallow breaths that don’t seem to satisfy my lungs. I fight to say the words, to tell him how I feel. I need to tell him how perfect this moment is.
As Jayden watches me, his eyes grow tight and fear replaces the affection in his eyes. “Allie? Are you okay?”
I try to speak. I try to tell him I’m fine, that I love him. I try to go back to the moment before when everything was so perfect.
“I love you,” I tell him. “I love you all.”
I don’t know if he hears me. I don’t know if the words really leave my mouth at all. Maybe I just shouted them in my mind. His face blurs and the world goes dark. I hear him calling my name, then yelling desperately for help. But no matter how hard I fight, my senses lose out. Slowly, the world goes quiet and I can no longer feel the mattress under my body or the warmth of Jayden’s hand. My thoughts slow to a stop as my mind shuts down with one final image behind my eyelids.
It’s like a dream. At first, I feel like I’m floating. I know someone is clutching at my hand, even though the words run together into nonsensical humming. I shut it all out and concentrate on the bright stars that shimmer in my mind. They are beautiful. Everything else falls away. I try to reach out and hang onto them.
Urgent voices interrupt my reverie. They call my name, but I am too tired to wake up. I will myself to go back to sleep. They won’t let me. The sound won’t go away. I concentrate on the rhythms of their words.
“Can she hear us?” Josh asks. My brother.
The thought jolts me back to Earth. His voice is small and fearful. I want to tell him not to be scared, that whatever it is that is scaring him, won’t be able to hurt him. But my eyes won’t open. They are so heavy. I try to open my mouth, but I can’t even feel it.
“I love you, Allie,” Jayden whispers in my ear. I feel his breath on my skin, but it no longer tingles in response. I try to lift my hand, or even just to move it — just a finger to show that I can hear.
“Allie, honey, come on. Open your eyes, baby,” Mum coos in a comforting voice. I want to obey her, more than anything I want to open my eyes.
“Maybe it’s time,” Dad says quietly.
Time?
Time for what?
I struggle to remember.
“Please come back, Allie,” Josh whispers in my ear.
“Goodbye, sweetheart.” Dad presses his lips against my cheek. It is the last thing I feel.
The voices meld together, forming a beautiful symphony of sound.
I want to open my eyes. More than anything, I want to open my eyes.
All I can see are stars.
***
Dear Josh,
I love you very, very much. I wish I’d told you that more often. We were always super close as kids, but as a teenager I forgot about our friendship. I’m sorry for that.
I’m also sorry for taking away your childhood. You had to grow up pretty fast because of me. You should have received more attention from Mum and Dad… It should have sometimes been all about you. I’m sorry you didn’t get your fair share of selfishness.
In saying that, you are my best friend. When I had no friends, you were always there for me. You put me before your own friends. Remember the time you were invited to that awesome all-sport sleepover party? And then you ended up spending the whole weekend playing board games in the hospital with me. Even when you started dating Emily, you never forgot about your sister.
You are an amazing person. You’re strong and funny. You are the kindest, most generous person I know. I’m so glad I got to see you be the truly fantastic person that you are. Once I was diagnosed, you not only became my best friend, you became my idol.
It’s so hard to think that wherever I’m going to end up, I’ll be going there without you. You’ve been by my side almost my whole life. I love you so much.
I know you’ll probably be stubborn and refuse to say goodbye until the last possible moment. Don’t beat yourself up if you don’t end up saying the words. I know you
love me; you’ve told me almost every day… even when you went through the angry teenager phase.
You can have anything of mine that you want after I’m gone. I owe you everything. Be easy on Mum and Dad. Be a happy loving family. I’ll be looking down on you. I’ll definitely come back to haunt you if you ever make it difficult by getting a stupid tattoo or putting a hole in your ear. I’m not kidding.
I love you very, very, very much. Forever and always.
Goodbye.
Allie.
Epilogue
Rosie clutches Jayden’s hand as she wiggles on her seat. Her hair is only just starting to grow back after months of harsh treatments. With each fidget, tuffs of it bounce upwards and tickle Jayden’s chin. She is getting impatient as the funeral comes to an end, with only Josh yet to speak.
The minister introduces Allie’s brother, calling him to the raised platform. Josh stands from the seat between his mother and Jayden. Josh feels someone pat his arm as he passes, but he doesn’t turn. He feels like throwing up. His hands shake as he clutches his speech, slowly making his way to the front of the crowd.
The funeral is situated in a small room in the middle of a garden cemetery. The graves are sparse. They sit peacefully under trees or nestled among rose bushes. There is a different garden for each set of graves. Allie’s is in the Light Garden. The trees have thick trunks and leaves that turn bright orange in autumn, before painting the ground at the start of winter. Foliage with tiny white flowers covers the ground.
The room is dotted with flowers as well. Photos of Allie cover the closed casket. Jayden stares at it as Josh shuffles the papers at the front of the room. He remembers how different he imagined this moment: a small funeral, just Allie’s immediate family and Hailey — the ones who spent time with her towards the end. Even though people from school and hospital staff sent flowers and cards, he didn’t expect them to want or need to say goodbye. It felt like his own private pain, shared with only a handful of people at most. But the world ought to come to a stop now that Allie is gone, he thinks, glad that the room is full of mourners. It is as if everyone who ever met Allie is there to say goodbye.
Josh takes a deep breath and clears his throat; then he starts. “Allie was the best person I’ve ever known. She was kind and good. She was brave and quick to laugh or smile. She was my big sister and my best friend. She was, is, my role model.”
He pauses for a moment as his voice loses its strength. Jayden sees Josh struggle to remain composed, while he fights the same battle; tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat.
“I will always see her in the most beautiful shells washed up on the sand, the ones that we would collect as children. When I see the rainbows under the sprinklers, I will remember the fun we had. Whenever I achieve something, I will remember that she was always the first to encourage me to reach for the stars. One of her dying wishes was to watch me score a goal in soccer. It just goes to show how generous and selfless she was, even when she was stuck in hospital. She would listen to me tell her all about the good things that had happened, and was never spiteful. Even when she was jealous, she would push it aside, telling me not to worry because it was ‘a stupid reaction’. It would make her happy to know the people she loved were happy.”
Tears fall from Josh’s eyes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He keeps speaking without pause. Allie’s mother sobs quietly. The audience doesn’t miss a single word. Josh’s voice forces itself through a flood of emotions.
“When I complained about something that went wrong, she would always have a kind thing to say or some words of wisdom. I wish I could remember every word she said. She knew what she wanted and rarely freaked out over the little things. She wrote letters to say goodbye, so that we would always have something of her to cling onto. I wish I could take back every time I stole the remote or said her hair looked like something a zombie threw up.” He pauses. A few people in the crowd chuckle.
“I’m sorry for every moment where I took her for granted before she was diagnosed. Even after I knew she had cancer, I couldn’t imagine a world where my sister wasn’t there hogging the bathroom in the morning or drowning her pancakes in maple syrup. Now she’s gone and it doesn’t feel right. We’ll miss you so much, Allie. You were special… really, truly special. I love you, Allie.”
He folds up the paper and returns to his seat, head bowed as the tears pour over his cheeks. By this time, almost everyone is crying. Allie’s father bows his head, holding his forehead with one hand and using the other to cling to his wife’s hand. Jayden pulls Rosie onto his lap and hugs her. Rosie wails in confusion at Jayden’s weeping. Her mother sits in the next seat, telling her children over and over again that it will all be okay.
Photos of Allie appear on the screen — part of a slideshow put together by Hailey with a collection of pictures, from the Reddings’ family albums, and Allie’s own hard drive of photos. The images illicit a stabbing pain in Josh’s stomach. He slumps in his seat, still clinging to his speech. It is too painful to watch.
Allie’s smiling face flickers before their eyes. She ages from birth to her death over five minutes, different people at her side with each image. Josh raises his head to see her as a toddler. Jayden looks for familiar expressions in the tiny face. Eventually there are recent pictures, those of Allie and Jayden, their arms wrapped around each other. Each bucket list task is immortalised with a group photo. The song Allie had chosen plays after the first three photos: ‘If I Die Young’ by The Band Perry. It makes her family and friends sob even harder. Hailey sits between her parents in the row behind Jayden and Allie’s family. She clamps her hand over her mouth, holding back a choking sob as she remembers how much Allie loved this song. Allie’s face lights up the screen. The camera capturing the life inside her with every click.
The crowd watches Allie’s life slide by; she wins a spelling bee, watches a movie in the hospital, attends high school for the first time, and takes a selfie on her phone. Every image pounds home the fact that this beautiful girl is dead. The thought breaks Jayden. He squeezes Rosie until she starts squirming in protest and his dad takes her away. His mum clasps their hands together, taking Rosie’s place.
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, the screen goes black and she is gone. The ceremony is over. People shuffle out of the church and into the surrounding gardens in a daze. Hands touch the shoulders of Allie’s family, Jayden, and Hailey. They don’t recognise half of the well-wishers. Somehow everyone knows who Allie loved the most and they are there to offer support. Hailey nods at sympathetic faces and Allie’s parents shake hands and give out hugs. Josh and Jayden ignore them, wandering away from the crowd.
In the corner of Light Garden, separating it from the next section, is a small lake. As distracted as they are, Jayden and Josh stop and admire its beauty. It is obvious why Allie and her mum chose the place. The lake is serene and the grounds are the vivid green that makes one feel safe and healthy. Jayden slumps to the ground, silently picking at the grass. His heart yearns for the time before he discovered Allie had cancer; when she was a healthy teenager. He never actually expected her to die and now that she’s gone, he finds himself completely unprepared for this moment. Josh walks the edge of the water. He kicks at stray rocks and lumps of dirt.
Soft footsteps break through Jayden’s thoughts. He doesn’t look up as Josh sits beside him. Jayden feels a well within him break. Tears begin to flow down his face once more. Even with Josh there, he feels impossibly lonely. They sit in silence watching the water ripple with each touch of wind. Josh doesn’t cry again. He feels drained of sadness, like he can’t possibly fall any further from this point.
“That was a good speech,” Jayden says quietly; his voice coarse, and his eyes red and swollen.
Josh remains quiet. He presses his hands into the earth until it leaves imprints in his skin. “Do you think she was watching?” he asks sounding years younger.
<
br /> “Maybe.”
Josh doesn’t answer. So Jayden continues. “She would have liked it.”
At what seems to be the edge of the garden cemetery, the clouds part and a rainbow bursts through. Josh stares in confusion. How can something so joyous appear now? She’s dead.
Jayden chuckles.
“What’s so funny?” Josh asks. He pounds his fists into the grass and glares at the ground.
“She’s smiling at us Josh,” Jayden says, pointing to the rainbow. “She said she would be a rainbow; after she died. She said it would be a sign that she was watching us; that she was happy.”
Jayden turns to Josh. A smile stretches slowly across face. Josh turns to the rainbow. “That sounds like her.”