I Fell in Love with Hope(112)

Her parents agreed to go to therapy with her, a recommendation from her doctors. They learn to listen as Hikari learns to communicate. I see her mom hugging her more often, and reading with her. Her father looks at her drawings and talks to her about them. Their relationships, however wounded, mend with every subtle, contagious smile.

Every day, when the broken clock above the door should strike noon, Hikari takes me by the hand, her notebook in the other, and together we make our way to the library, the gardens, all of our places. She begins to meet other patients close to her age. At first, Hikari is reserved, afraid, as she was in the past. But with me beside her, she regains her confidence. Those that appreciate Hikari’s creativity, brazenness, and little strokes of mischief become friendly with her. After a few weeks of encouragement, every chance she gets, Hikari gifts a little bit of her time, a little bit of her kindness, and a little bit of herself to someone new. She learns, as she did with our three thieves, that there are people who understand her, and more than that, people who will try even if they don’t.

And her and I?

We are her and I.

We go through the Hit List together sometimes, reminding each other of good days as her worst ones begin to better. We steal apples and share them in the night over books. We dance like actors and sing like playwrights to the voices of Shakespeare.

I consider myself the luckiest creature in the world to be graced by her. Hearing the laughter that reddens her cheeks and thins her eyes, feeling her hands mirror and meet mine, and all the little moments. The everything moments.

Hikari has come to terms that there will never be a time she is not haunted by shadows. She will live with her depression and her disease for the rest of her life.

Chronic illnesses are just that. Chronic. Reoccurring. Forever. They are not annoying, occasional pains to get rid of with a pill. They are persistent in their pursuit of your sanity.

Their symptoms accumulate, and their severity fluctuates. They stack up like dominoes falling with random patterns. They can be deadly as they were in Sony and Coeur. They can be deadly in other ways as they were in Neo.

A chronic illness is not difficult to live with because it is endless. It is difficult to live with because it is unpredictable. But like grief, every flare ends, and though the looming threat is constant, you learn to live beside it. A shadow of mixed blessings. It does not heal as wounds do, but it teaches you of your own strength till you can wear it like a battle scar.

Hikari knows that better than anyone.

She will be discharged tomorrow. She will go home with color to her skin and wounds licked clean. Her older features, those full cheeks, and her ever-humored smirk return with every passing day. Her emptiness fills with the support of those around her till she is full enough to stand and walk and touch and be.

The day those yellow flecks in her eyes shine like they did the first day I saw her, a bittersweet relief rushes through me.

“You’re so affectionate,” Hikari says as I sigh into our embrace.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” I ask, her scent filling me. My face settles in the crook of her neck, her hands playing up and down my back.

“At the beginning, you were so afraid to touch me, remember?” she whispers. “You were scared I’d burn you.”

“I was scared you’d burn away into nothing,” I tell her. When I raise my head to meet her gaze, my jaw grazes against the same eclipsing heat that now warms my heart. “I wanted to save you.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

Hikari laughs.

“You didn’t need to be saved,” I say, kissing her nose just below the bridge of her glasses. “You just needed to be reminded that you aren’t fighting alone.” I press my lips to her shoulder as the elevator rises.

“In the end,” I whisper into her hair, “You eradicated my loneliness.”

“Because you eradicated mine.”

“With my rude, affectionate arms?”

“With your tomorrows.”

I want to savor this moment. This little blip in time when she is mine, and I am hers, and the rest of the world outside of us may as well not exist.

“Are you alright, my Yorick?” Hikari asks, dragging her fingers tenderly down my face.

“I have something to give you.”

The elevator doors open with a ding. I take Hikari’s hands in mine, walking her up our stale, concrete stairwell.

“Another grand gesture?” she asks.

I glance over my shoulder at her. “Not quite.”

A creak and a gust of wind welcome us to the rooftop, our meeting place, our graveyard, and our ledge. Only it isn’t barren and gray tonight.

Tonight, string lights adorn the walls, a yellow blanket at the center set up like a picnic. Atop it, a familiar cardboard box with memorabilia sits, its crown a little succulent that no longer needs my care.

Hikari marvels at the scene, the light reflected in the crystal of the watch on her wrist. She fidgets with it, smiling as her feet border the blanket.

“Is this a going away party?”

“You hate parties,” I remind her, a pastry bag ruffling as I pick it from behind the cardboard.

“I like food.” She tries to take it from me, but I hold it over my head.

“And grand gestures?”

“Sam,” she whines, laughing as I take a bite of the chocolate, buttery thing she can never get enough of. Rather than scold me or steal away the pastry, she kisses me hard on the mouth, getting a taste for herself.