Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
JADEN
Where did she get it...?
Why...?
But if...?
The closet. The shirts. Earlier I didn’t put the sheet back. To the back. Into the dark corner. Where it had been for so long.
Nyla stares at me in disbelief, her earrings trembling along with her body.
Why? She has not the slightest idea what she’s holding in her hands. Does she feel caught out?
I stare back. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, do, think, or feel.
The door was open. When I entered the room, I wanted to ask her whether we really already wanted to go to bed together, or what other reason there was for her to take so long just to change her shirt.
Now I’m standing as if set in concrete in the doorway.
There’s no trace of lightness.
‘I… well, um…’ Her gaze jerks back and forth between me and the paper in her hand.
I could run away.
But I don’t want to anymore. Not after I imagined earlier where staying might lead me.
Again I remember what Nyla said yesterday about the pain outside the moment. That perhaps it isn’t the pain itself, but only the idea of it, that is destroying my life.
I wish that were true. That I could, that I were able to find peace with the memory of Camee.
‘That’s not your list.’ Nyla’s voice is so quiet I can barely hear it, yet goose bumps break out all over my body.
I shake my head as I try to figure out what to say to her and how. How I’m supposed to find words for something that has been unspeakable for so long.
Whose list is it? That will be the next question to leave her mouth, I’m sure of it.
Even though she now pointedly falls silent, sets the sheet down on the sheet beside her and gets up from the bed, she’ll want to know.
Because just from my reaction she can tell how significant this piece of paper is to me.
Now she comes toward me, her expression full of unease. She’s just as afraid of my answer as I am. And that even though she has not the slightest idea what this is really about.
Only when she is directly in front of me does she stop. Her chest touches mine, rises and falls in the same rhythm. Her eyelids flutter, then she fixes me with an intense look. Every part of her is trembling.
‘This is Lilly’s list.’ Strangely, she sounds as if she knows who Lilly is, or at least suspects it. ‘They’re her wishes, hopes, and dreams.’
Lilly’s wishes, hopes, and dreams, echoes inside me, and by now nothing makes sense to me anymore.
Does she actually know Lilly?
From where? Why? How?
Was she her doctor?
I gasp for air but don’t get any. I want to say something, but I don’t know what.
Nyla’s gaze grows intent. ‘What do you have to do with Lilly’s bucket list?’ she asks me, tearing open a wound inside me from which the past pours out unstoppably.
Her head looks so small on this pillow. Deep shadows lie beneath her eyes as she looks at me, tired.
With every breath my heart grows heavier, but I just keep talking anyway.
I tell her about the party last night, about how bright the orange of the morning sky was when I stumbled out of the bar, and that I couldn’t find my key anymore.
How I hammered on the door I’d just been thrown out of, wanting to go back in, just back, to get something back that I should never have lost.
‘Back?’ Her gaze drifts absentmindedly to the window behind me.
‘I found it, Camee, it was still there,’ I say quickly.
The corners of her mouth lift imperceptibly.
I get up from my chair and pull the key out of my pants pocket. The chain I attached it to jingles softly. ‘Here it is, and look, there.’ I show her the carabiner with which I’ve fastened the chain to a belt loop on my jeans. ‘This way I can’t lose the key again.’
With a sad expression she looks at the carabiner, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am. That you can’t protect everything from getting lost this way. That there are things you can’t chain to yourself, that you can’t hold on to, that you can’t force to stay.
People.
Moments.
Life.
Deep in my chest burns the pain of this truth that I cannot speak.
‘Yes,’ she says, forcing a smile. ‘The necklace is a great idea.’
I take her hand, as careful as if her bony fingers were made of glass. ‘As soon as you get out of here, I’ll make you a necklace like that too, then you can party through the nights without a care.’
The pillow rustles as she turns her head toward me. ‘That sounds great.’
We both know she will never need this necklace. The doctors told us. Only a few days left, maybe hours, and still I cannot accept it. I will not stop believing that everything can still turn out all right.
‘There’s something in the drawer that I want to give you.’ With an effort she lifts her hand and points to her nightstand.
I feel sick on the spot, but I don’t let her see it. ‘Oh please, let it be the chocolate pudding I like so much.’
She laughs softly. A light moment. At least.
In the drawer I find a sheet of paper. A farewell letter? A last will?
I can hardly bring myself to touch it, but I want to be strong for her, so I pick it up and unfold it.
‘First: Adopt a dog from the animal shelter,’ I read out loud and look up. ‘What is this?’
She swallows, her expression turning far too serious. ‘A list of all the things I still wanted to do.’
My chest tightens.
‘I might not get the chance to fulfil these wishes anymore.’ Her words are only a whisper, yet they hurt as if she had just shouted at me.
Unable to say anything, I shake my head.
‘Would you take care of that?’ Her hand touches mine, feather-light and cold. ‘Can you live my dreams for me when I’m no longer…’ Her voice breaks.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ I reply earnestly. ‘You’ll be able to live them yourself, every single one of them.’ Because she will get better.
‘Promise me.’ Her breathing is shallow. ‘Promise me that my wishes won’t be lost.’
I can’t do this.
As if she could sense my thoughts, she smiles gently. ‘Of course, I’m only giving you the list for the unlikely case that I don’t get out of here,’ she says, and I know she’s only doing it for me, which hurts all the more intensely.
Tears burn in my eyes. ‘You’re getting out of here.’
‘I will, Jayjay, I will.’ She points at the sheet of paper in my hand. ‘Keep this safe for me until then.’
That I can do. ‘Okay, until you’re feeling better again.’ I fold the sheet and slip it into my jacket pocket. ‘I’ll get a chain and a carabiner today.’
‘Then it’ll be safer with you than anywhere else in the world.’ Camee closes her eyes with a relieved sigh. ‘And only for the unlikely case that something happens to me, would you then…’
I look at the face of the person with whom I was one half of a whole for years. I see my Camee. For months she has been confined to hospital beds. Months in which she could still have lived her dreams, in which the two of us could still have spent so much time together in beautiful places.
‘Promise me,’ she breathes. ‘Please.’
Gently I take her hand. ‘I promise,’ I say, and deep inside me the question seethes whether she regrets the treatment. Whether, instead of only hoping for a life, she wouldn’t rather have truly lived a little longer.
It was the last time we saw each other. The last words we exchanged, the last touches.
The list is all that was left of her. Until yesterday, when the first memory surfaced in me.
‘What do you have to do with Lilly’s bucket list?’ Nyla, who is still standing opposite me unchanged, wants to know again.
My jaws grind against each other, I look at her, searching for support in her eyes so I can withstand the storm that will rise up inside me as soon as I answer her question.
‘She was my little sister,’ I say, and then it happens.
I see my little Camee on the beach, her pants full of sand, her tongue stuck out in concentration as she tips over the red bucket.
I see her eating her birthday cake with her fingers, her mouth smeared with chocolate, her eyes full of happiness.
I see her dancing. A red scarf with fringes tied around her hips, a glitter hair clip next to her ear, her arms stretched up high.
Caught in the whirlpool of memories and pain, I notice far too late how Nyla takes a step back.
‘Your sister?’ she breathes, horrified.
In her face I search for the reason for her dismay, but I don’t find one. ‘Yes, she had… she was sick…’
Nyla bites her lower lip. ‘I know.’
Everything inside me is spinning. What does she mean by that? How can it be that Nyla knows about Camee’s illness? And why does she also seem to know about this list?
What is happening right now?
I look at her intently. ‘How do you know Lilly?’
It’s a simple question, yet she suddenly draws in a sharp breath and as she exhales shakily, tears suddenly bead and roll down her cheeks…