Chapter Thirty
The hardest thing I’ve ever done is watch my family suffer through my illness, knowing there was nothing I could do to comfort them… until I saw the look on Gabe’s face when she came into the room. And then, like watching the saddest part of a movie, I saw their story unfold. And the ending? I closed my eyes. I couldn’t watch. Because I hated those types of stories — ones that gave you no hope but left you empty — and searching. —Wes M.
Saylor
I pulled into the parking lot and hurried out of my car. An accident on the freeway had made traffic complete insanity. Clenching my keys in my hand and some sheet music in the other, I ran toward the doors. Two men, big enough to cause serious damage to any action star, blocked my way. My eyes fell to two huge guns. Had there been a break-in or something?
One of them held up his hand, stopping me in my tracks.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Um.” I looked around them. “I’m one of the volunteers from UW.”
The one picked up a clipboard. “Name.”
“S-saylor.”
“Last name?”
I froze, literally forgetting my last name, then one of them pointed at something on the clipboard and nodded.
“Go on in.” They moved to the side and let me pass. I pulled my cell phone from my back pocket for them to hold at the front desk, and completed my usual sign in.
Once everything was said and done I was fifteen minutes late.
I ran through the doors and nearly collided with Gabe.
He gripped my shoulders and steadied me. “You’re late.”
“I know,” I huffed. “Traffic was horrible, and then two huge guys stopped me outside the building. Did something happen? Why is there more security than normal?” I vaguely remembered the conversation Gabe had on the phone when our kiss happened. I mean, I’d noticed that more security had been added over the past four weeks but two goons in front? Really? Had he said something about more security in front of the building? To be honest, I’d been so shocked about the kiss that his entire conversation fell on deaf ears. Now I wished I could remember it.
Gabe removed his hands and shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe some of the residents are trying to escape.”
“It’s not like we don’t try,” Old Man Peterson grumbled, shuffling up next to us.
Gabe gave the old man a high five and pointed at his retreating form as he used his walker to make his way across the floor. “My point exactly.”
I rolled my eyes and walked by Gabe to the front of the room.
“Sorry I’m late, everyone!”
They quieted down and took their seats.
“Today I thought it would be fun to break out into groups and write our own scales. When you’re done, you can either hum the song to me or you can use your instrument to play the notes. We’re just going to work with the major scale today, so use any four notes you want, but only four. We don’t want to make it too difficult. I have examples on the worksheets — oh, and please make your notes colorful. If you use an F or a G make sure it’s always the same color as the previous F and G. Any questions?”
They never had questions.
Probably because they never actually followed directions, but hey that was fine, at least they were enjoying themselves.
For the next hour, I made my way around the group tables and offered my assistance, but I stayed away from Princess.
Gabe was with her, hovered over the piece of paper while she instructed him on what to do.
Ha, and he thought I was bossy.
I had nothing on that girl. She knew exactly what she wanted and why.
“No, Park! I want you to use the same note again! It needs to be pink!”
I watched them interact, watched how he patted her hand every once in a while, or how he adjusted her chair so he was closer, or even wiped some of the spit from her mouth.
I’d already suspected there was something more.
I wanted to ask him, because I was beginning to wonder if she was his sister or some other family member. It was the only logical explanation as to why he would not only volunteer but be the only person who was with Princess the most. Then, on the other hand, Lisa somehow had to fit into the picture. I just didn’t know how. Ugh, I was giving myself a headache.
“Sorry.” He laughed and tapped her nose with the pink crayon. “So what notes do you want?”
“I want—” She started coughing wildly.
Gabe shot to his feet. “Get it out, Princess, that’s right, just cough it up.”
He put a napkin over her mouth and then wiped it.
“That’s my girl.”
“Parker…” She coughed again, and he repeated the process, rubbing at her nasal tubes. “I hate coughing.”
“I know. It’s because you got the sniffles, but you’re getting better, right? It’s easier to breathe because of them putting air inside?” He winked and tapped against the little machine attached to her wheel chair.
“A bit.” Her face looked paler than before. “I’m so tired though.”
“Maybe—”
“Parker!” she yelled, her voice almost piercing my ears. “I said I’m tired! I’m tired! So tired! And I keep dreaming of the Christmas tree. But it doesn’t have lights. Why doesn’t it have lights, Parker?”
Gabe froze. I’d never seen him look so pale before.
“The tree!” she yelled again, and then seemed to almost seize in her chair as her mouth dropped open.
I ran over just as she started coughing and snatched the napkin from his hand and held it up to her mouth.
She hacked a few times. I wiped her mouth and offered her a small smile.
“All better?” I asked.
“N-no.” Giant tears started falling down her face.
“Hmm, why don’t we sing then? Would you like that?” I was grasping at straws. It always seemed to calm her down when Gabe sang.
She didn’t answer, and I knew I was playing with something fragile. Without thinking I shoved the napkin back into Gabe’s hands and went over to the piano and started playing one of the songs that I’d learned from the Little Mermaid when I was little.
“Part of Your World!” Princess shrieked.
Gabe still stood motionless.
Princess tried singing, and even though the words didn’t come out right, her smile returned. Best of all, no more coughing.
When the song was done, it was time for class to be over. Martha came in and wheeled Princess to the corner, while I approached Gabe and played with the idea of clapping in front of his face.
“What’s wrong?” I tugged his hand.
He blinked and looked down at the napkin in his hands. It was stained red. Covered in blood.
Princess was coughing up blood.