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It’s the night of my solo show, and I’m a nervous wreck.
I’m running late to the gallery, though Wren and I have checked and triple-checked that everything is perfectly in place.
Thanks to Alejandro, Leilani, Kayla, and the rest of the art crew, they have added some incredible effects I never could have
achieved on my own, and even built a wheelchair ramp to boot. Ben has no idea what the show is about; nor does he know I’ve
invited all of his closest friends and family to be here, some who have flown a long way to see him.
Once Ben is out of the car and in his wheelchair, I push him up to the entrance. I am worried that by inviting all of his
friends and family, it will signify something: not just a gathering, but an ending. Ben is down to a hundred and forty pounds,
though he still looks sharp in a suit and a checkered bowtie. I’m wearing a long jumpsuit with the same pattern, my hair wavy
and wild, and he has told me no less than five times how beautiful I look tonight. I’m on edge for so many reasons, but mainly
I just want this night to be perfect for him. For us.
When we approach the gallery, I stop. There is no large production tonight like at Rita Clementine’s gallery, no line of influencers out the door. This is a private event, and everyone is already inside. This whole night, this whole show, is about him.
“I just want you to know how much I appreciate your support around this show the last couple of months,” I say. “I know it’s
taken up a lot of my time.”
“Harper.” He grips my hand and stares deeply into my eyes. “You are doing what you love. I support you completely. You know
that.” He squeezes my fingers. “I’m so proud of you.” He releases me and gestures toward the door. “And I can’t wait to see
what you’ve created that you’ve been so hush-hush about.”
“Famous last words, Foster.” I yank open the door and wheel him inside. As he crosses the threshold, a chorus of “Surprise!”
echoes off the stark white walls.
I move beside him to clock the look on his face, which is awash with shock. Everyone he truly cares about is here in one space.
Ben barely has time to register what’s happening before his loved ones rush him, crouching down to enclose him in tight hugs
and clap him on the back. His face is wrecked from raw emotion, and I hope I haven’t done the wrong thing by inviting so many
people here. Yes, this is a celebration, but it could also be viewed as a goodbye party, cementing his inevitable departure
from us all. Even though I know that, I’m not giving up hope. Not yet.
He finds me in the crowd and reaches back for my hand. “Harper. I don’t understand. Why is everyone here for me? Tonight is
about you.”
“No,” I say, steering him toward the main gallery floor, where my pieces are positioned to tell his story. “Tonight is about
you.”
Alejandro hits the lights and the music. Kayla and Leilani helped orchestrate the audio production, which has taken this show
to a new level. They stand back, excited to see their work in real time.
This is the moment I will remember: watching Ben’s face as he registers the content of my show, how the story starts when he is young and blossoms through hormones, health, success, love, heartbreak, and sickness. There is a projected image of him as a boy that dances all around us, singing a sweet song his mom recorded when he was five years old. In the middle, he forgets the lyrics, then makes up his own before bursting into giggles. It plays on a loop, synced with the musical piece he composed for his own departure, “The Last Song.” The sounds blend and crash into each other, creating a truly powerful effect.
Ben presses a trembling hand over his mouth. The image of him distorts and drifts across the walls, then explodes into stardust.
And then he begins again, reborn, repurposed. It is a living, breathing installation of his complete infiniteness. No beginning
and no end. In this place, in this moment, he lives forever.
The crowd falls completely silent as he rolls himself forward and gingerly reaches out to touch each piece, to read their
descriptions. He marvels, soaking it all in, and then he openly begins to cry.
My heart breaks for him as I step forward and lightly touch his back. He rotates and clings to me until the tears subside.
“I can’t believe you did this for me,” he says, finally pulling back to stare at the pieces again. “I just can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” I say. “You make a pretty great muse, Foster.”
He kisses me softly.
“Now you get to listen.” I steer him to a spot near the makeshift stage at the front.
For the next hour, people tell stories about Ben, their greatest adventures, the tender moments, the hilarious tomes about this man who is so deeply loved. Then it’s my turn, and I move toward the stage and the bright lights, unsteady and emotional. Wren hands me the microphone, and I soak in the crowd, proud of what I’ve put together.
“First of all, thank you all for coming. Ben hates crowds, but this one I know he loves.” I wink at him and then gather my
words. “As all of you were talking, it dawned on me that almost everyone in this room has known Ben much longer than I have.
Your history cuts deeper. You’ve known different versions of him, but at the same time, I feel like I know him best of all.
I mean, it is a competition, after all.” I’m grateful for the laughs as I turn to Ben and vow to keep my voice in check. “I have loved you
ever since the moment I beat you at that obstacle race,” I say to another chorus of laughter. “It’s like we both knew we would
begin a different race... also against the clock; in so many ways, we have moved at warp speed, but I am so grateful that
we did.” I walk everyone through our early adventures and travels. “When Ben was diagnosed, we were obviously shocked, but
we thought, ‘Okay, challenge accepted.’ And despite doing everything humanly possible, here we are.” A somber hush falls across
the gallery, until I find the right words to continue. “Though I can’t possibly know how our story ends, I do know that this
situation has taught us to stay present for each and every moment. It has taught us what’s important, who’s important, and that we need to love our people as fiercely as we can. While we can.” Liam’s article pops to mind, as he wrote
something similar. A few tears slip down my cheeks, but I stare right at Ben. “No matter what happens, it has been a privilege
to journey with you, Benjamin Adam Foster. Today, tomorrow, and for as long as we have left.”
Before I can move off stage, Ben wheels up the ramp and I move to embrace him as the crowd watches. A few sniffles break the
spell as he gently takes the microphone.
“Well, let’s not think for a second I’m going to let Harper have the last word,” he says, looking up at me. “This competitive streak runs deep, y’all. Even if I am in a wheelchair.” I playfully poke him and move to the front of the crowd as he wheels himself to center stage. “Tonight is an absolute gift,” he begins, clearing the emotion from his voice. “My lovely wife has been with me through this cancer journey from the start, as you all know. But what you may not know is that she has never wavered, never complained, and has made me feel loved, protected, and seen the entire time. That is the real gift.”
I smile at him and nod in a silent salute.
“But this...” He gestures around him. “This is a reminder of the life I have lived. The people I have loved. The amazing things I have done. It has been a short life, much shorter than I would like, but it has been a good one. A full one. A meaningful one.”
There are a few more sniffles from the audience before he continues. “Facing the end is not something any of us can rationalize.
We all know it’s coming for each and every one of us.” He points into the crowd. “Especially you, Josh. Maybe sooner rather
than later, if you keep jumping out of planes. Heed my warning.” He gestures to his wheelchair.
Josh hoots from the crowd.
“But to really sit with that, to come to terms with your own transition... It is a big moment, and in its own right, it
is also a gift.” He sighs. “I don’t want to leave this life. I don’t want to leave all of my most beloved friends and family.
I don’t want to think about not waking up every day next to my beautiful wife, or going on a bike ride or a run, or helping
others in a similar position, or composing something truly amazing. These are the things I love, but they are also the things
I must let go.”
Everyone is crying. I stand between his mom, his sister, and my parents, who drove here from Ohio.
“I just want each and every one of you to know how much you’ve meant to me along the way. Whether I see you frequently or
just once in a while, you matter to me.” Ben stops talking and takes time to make eye contact with each and every one of us.
“You matter. And you matter. And you matter.” When he gets to me, his voice breaks. “And to my beautiful bride, I know we
are short on time, but it has been the best time of my life. Even when it was the worst. You make everything better. You have
made me better, and I will miss you most of all.”
The tears flow freely, and I don’t even bother to wipe them away. He wheels himself back down the ramp and is once again embraced
by countless individuals.
“Now, let’s see some art!” Wren cues the music, and the show resumes as people mingle and sample some of Ben’s favorite foods
I had made by a local chef. Wren shows people how to move through each exhibit, and after Ben has seen all of the pieces,
I seize the opportunity to steal him away.
I push him to a separate part of the gallery. As a surprise, I’m going to show him the final piece, which is one of my favorites.
Everyone signed their names in a particular way, so that when you step back, it composes a silhouette of his body. It is a
wildly creative piece, one he will hopefully cherish.
“I didn’t think I had this much salt left in my system,” he whispers, wiping away more tears. “Where are you taking me, woman?”
“I have a surprise that’s just for you,” I say, leading him toward the art.
“Wait. I have something for you first.” He wheels himself to face me and fishes in his pocket for something. He pulls out a long, flat box. I squint to see what it is and laugh in shock.
“A pregnancy test?”
He looks at me with tears still in his eyes. “Yes, Harper. You haven’t been eating. You’re exhausted and nauseous all the
time. I know it’s been a lot since I’ve, you know, taken a turn, but I really think you should take this.”
My heart slams around wickedly in my chest. Could I really be pregnant? I know we talked about starting a family, but that
feels like ages ago. I try to remind him that I haven’t skipped a period, but as I think back, I can’t remember if I had one
last month or not. I do some quick calculations in my head and look at him. “Oh shit,” I say.
“Go.” He hands me the box and points to the women’s bathroom.
My hands are shaking as I let myself into the single stall. The watch Ben gave me slides up and down my wrist as I open the
box. My hands find my stomach and press lightly. Could there be life in here? Surely not...
As I take the test and set a timer on my watch, I think about what Ben said he wanted in that other life: a family, a home.
Could we both actually get what we want, even if it’s only temporary?
Ben knocks on the door. “You’re really going to make me wait out here?”
“Give me a second,” I call.
I feel like I’m going to be sick. What will I do if I’m actually pregnant? I know the probability is small, infinitesimal
even. The timer goes off. I take a deep breath and grab the stick but don’t look at the results yet. When I open the door,
Ben is practically jumping out of his skin to know.
“Well?”
“Here. You look first. I can’t.” I thrust the stick in his hands and then bend forward at the waist. “Why am I so nervous?”
I stand back up and shake out my hands. I watch his face as he reads the results.
“Harper...” He says my voice so softly, it’s barely a whisper. And I know. I know before he turns it around to show me.
I know from the look on his face.
“I’m pregnant,” I say out loud for the very first time.
“You’re pregnant,” he confirms.
Suddenly it all makes sense. He’s right. How could I have missed the signs? My hands drop to my stomach again, where new life
has begun. Part me and part Ben. This has to be the ultimate lesson in faith.
After the initial shock, Ben erupts into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. “You’re really pregnant? With my baby?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, with your baby.” I lean in to kiss him and step forward so he can gingerly cradle my stomach.
“I can’t believe I’m getting my wish,” he says now, ogling my belly.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I wanted you to love someone new before I left.” He smiles up at me. “Maybe this is the person I was waiting for all along.”
I smile at the sentiment. “Maybe you’re right.”
His face shifts and tears slide freely down his cheeks. “I have to be here,” he says as he presses his lips to my stomach,
then stares up at me again. “I have to see this baby come into the world.”
“So do it,” I say, a mischievous grin on my face. “You have a reason to live, Foster. So live.”
Slowly, he pulls away and stares at me with more intensity than I’ve ever seen. “Challenge accepted,” he says. “I’m all in.”