Chapter Thirty-Nine
At first, I only register the smudge of shiny black in the near distance, until my brain makes sense of the image, giving it a shape. The shape of a bear.
I’ve never seen a bear before. Not in the wild, not in a zoo, not anywhere, and my first thought is that it’s cute.
That this beast, capable of ripping us both to shreds, is actually really cute, with its shiny black coat and adorable brown snout, its pointy little ears sticking straight up.
But then it does something definitely not cute—it stands on its hind legs, making it impossible to ignore its muscular haunches, its long claws.
“Oh, hey bear,” Kei says, in a loud, calm voice, and then to me, in a low mutter, “No sudden movements, and don’t look it in the eye.” Which is exactly what I was doing, so I avert my gaze.
“Hey, bear,” he says, again, stretching his arms out. He grabs my hand, lifting my arm, making us appear as one giant animal.
The bear lowers back down and starts to amble toward us.
“Kei,” I say in a strangled voice. “Should we run?”
“No.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the bear. “Back up slowly,” he says.
We creep slowly backward, our arms outstretched.
“Hey, bear,” he says again, dropping his voice into a deeper register. The bear pauses. It lifts its snout, its nosing twitching as it tries to catch our scent. “Go away, bear. Go on.”
The bear tilts its head, like it’s listening to us. It takes a step forward.
“Go away, bear,” Kei says, louder.
But it does not go away. Instead, it starts a slow jog toward us, its terrifying size and strength becoming more apparent with every step it takes.
“Yell,” Kei says to me, before letting loose a roar. I do the same thing, pulling it deep from my belly. The bear slows. Kei roars again, and so do I.
I roar, like the terrifying, dangerous creature that I am. I roar until the back of my throat burns and my jaw aches, but the bear continues its approach.
It’s now only a few feet from us, so close that I could stretch forward and touch its furry snout. If I had a death wish, that is.
“Get out of here, bear,” Kei booms.
The bear makes a snuffling sound, like it’s insulted. We are, after all, on its territory, not the other way around. It gives its head a shake, regarding us, as if it’s trying to determine whether we’re worth the effort.
A long moment passes, a stand-off between man and beast. I don’t dare breathe or move or do anything that may disrupt this detente.
Finally, after an eternity, the bear twists its body around and heads for the tree line.
I exhale for the first time in what feels like a long time as I watch its big bear butt disappear into the forest.
“Oh my god.” My shaking hands fly to my mouth. “Oh my god, Kei, you were amazing. That was so crazy!” I turn to hug him, to kiss him, to celebrate not being the bear’s dinner, but I stop.
All the colour has drained from his face, and his eyes are glassy, unfocused.
“Kei?”
He smiles at me, a weak, fuzzy sort of smile, and he looks like he’s about to say something. But then his eyes roll to the back of his head, and his torso sways. I lunge for him, but I’m not quick enough. He drops to the ground.
“Kei!” I cry, tearing open the plastic bag he relocated from his ankle to his wrist, looking for his insulin.
I’m not sure exactly what I’m looking for, hopefully a pre-loaded syringe with the exact right amount of medicine to get him back up on his feet tout de suite, but aside from an almost empty bottle of water, the bag is empty.
I drop to my knees and cradle his head in my lap. I slap his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open. “Wake up, Kei,” I say, my voice cracking. “Come on, eyes open.” His eyes open, and he looks at me with that faraway gaze.
“Where’s your insulin?”
His eyes start to close again, so I slap his face a few more times. “Stay with me. Where’s your insulin?’
He says something that sounds like “all gone.” But that can’t be right.
I ask him again, trying to keep this rising sense of panic out of my voice. He lifts his head this time, eyes wide open, and says the words I don’t want to hear. “My insulin is all gone.”
I feel light-headed. “What do you mean, all gone? Since when?”
“Yesterday.”
“How is that possible?”
“Gabby…” He trails off.
“Gabby was supposed to get more for you?”
He nods, his eyes closing.
“Fuck.” I’m filled with white-hot rage at the callousness and cowardice of Gabby and Tyler’s decision.
But I don’t have time to be angry. I prop him up enough that I can feed him some of my granola bar.
He chews slowly and struggles to swallow.
I try to give him some water, but most of it dribbles down his chin.
“Kei, come on, we’ve got to get going, come on.” But even as I say the words, I know how this is going to go. He’s not going anywhere.
“Fuck!” I scream, to no one. Hot tears spill onto my cheeks. I lean over, resting my head on Kei’s chest. His body is slick with sweat, and his heartbeat sounds weak and fluttery. My body shakes with sobs.
He brings a hand to my back, rubbing absent-mindedly.
“Is Kimi coming?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.
Kimi. His sister. The lack of insulin clearly has him confused.
I feel like I could fall into a million pieces at this question, but I hold myself together.
“Yes. She’ll be here soon.” I sit up, swiping the tears from my face with the backs of my hands.
I pull in a shuddery breath and say the words I don’t want to say.
“She’ll be here with you while I go get you some insulin. ”
He nods, and my heart breaks. But I have to go, and I have to go now. Every minute that passes without insulin is a minute that we can’t afford to waste, so I don’t have time to agonize over this decision. I just have to go.
“I’ll be back so soon, okay?” I push a dark curl back away from his face. “You just rest here, and before you know it, we’ll be together again. Okay?”
He smiles weakly, his eyes closed.
I try to make him as comfortable as possible, but it feels deeply futile.
I remove some of the bigger rocks underneath his arms and calves, but there is nothing soft to put under his head, and nothing to give him some shelter.
If I thought I could lift him, I’d drag him into the forest, but he’s too heavy and it’s too far.
At least he’s not in the full sun—it’s late afternoon by now, maybe five o’clock, so at least I don’t have to worry about him getting sunstroke.
I put the rest of my granola bar and his bottle of water near his hand.
I crouch down and press my lips into his forehead.
I breathe him in—the warmth of his skin, the smell of his coconut shampoo.
I push away the thought that this might be the last time I ever see him.
Can’t let my mind go there. And then, with every ounce of strength I have, I force myself to pull away.
I’m turning to leave as he grabs my ankle. “Cleo?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.
“Yes.” I wait for his reply, long enough that I start to think that maybe I only imagined him saying my name. But then he says it again.
“Cleo?”
“Yes, Kei?”
“Love you.”
My breath catches in my throat. “Love you, too.”
And then I leave him.