Authors: Michelle Merrill
“What is it?” he asks.
“I’ll show you when I get out.”
His eyebrows shoot up and he must be thinking of the kiss we both want. And even though I want that, there’s something else that needs to happen as well. Something that will ease my mind and make each day more bearable.
A few weeks later, I’m out of the hospital. Mom takes an extended leave from work to be home with me all day, every day. I still have a hard time doing much of anything on my own, but at least I can breathe. Giana’s mom comes to visit, and even though we don’t talk about Giana, we both know she’s the reason there’s a connection between us. Cindy asks about CF and we help her understand that it’s not just a slow death, but a different way to view life.
When she visits today, she sits at the bar counter and clasps her hands together. “Kate.”
I pause, my toast halfway to my mouth. Mom folds her arms and leans against the fridge.
“I have a favor to ask.”
Cindy’s quiet voice is hesitant. “You knew Giana was prom queen, right?”
“Kyler told me.” But why is she bringing it up?
“Well…even though they had the dance. They never crowned the royalty. They didn’t think it would be appropriate.”
I can understand that, but I still don’t know where she’s going with this.
“I told them the royalty should be crowned,” she says. “And I’m wondering if you would stand in her place.”
My heart pulses, my knees go weak. “No. Please, I couldn’t.
Prom was weeks ago.”
She puts her hands flat on the counter. “They want to have a special ceremony to remember Giana.”
To remember
her
, not me. I have to find a way to get out of this. “But she wasn’t there that long.”
“
Please
,” her voice cracks. “They need closure. And I think it would be good for all of us.”
How can I deny her this one thing? I set my toast down and rub my forehead. “When is it?”
“Next week.”
Now I
do
sit down. “I’m not sure I’ll have enough energy,” I say. Really, I’m not sure if I’m ready for all the faces, the sympathy, the sadness. “And what about all those germs?”
Mom comes to my side. “You only need to be there for the crowning.
You’ll wear a mask and once it’s over, you can go home.”
I clear my thoughts and make myself
agree. “Okay. But only because Giana would do the same for me.” Not that I’d ever be prom queen, but she’d stand up there if I was getting a loser award. This is a step in the right direction—to be more like her.
* * *
Somehow I made it through the week. I stand backstage, my hands sweaty and my legs ready to give out. Dad’s beside me with my arm linked through his. I lean on him and his forearm flexes, holding me up.
“Just breathe,” Dad says.
And I do. I inhale through my mask, filling Giana’s lungs. This is for her. The prom king is six feet tall, shaggy hair, with a smug smile. I don’t even know his name. He glances down at me and I nod.
“Hi. I’m Kate.”
My voice is muffled but I say it anyway. It’s what Giana would do.
“I’m Samuel.” His eyes are happy. “You look beautiful, by the way.”
Even with a mask on? Dad clears his throat and I mutter a thanks, my cheeks burning. Mom hired someone to fix my hair. Half of it’s stacked on top of my head, weaved in braids and knots, with the rest curled over my shoulders. Cindy stopped by and dropped off Giana’s prom dress. I stared at it for two hours, not sure if I could really put it on. Somehow I talked myself into thinking it’s what Giana would’ve wanted.
I blink away a tear as the blue seq
uins sparkle in the backlight.
Samuel steps forward. “It’s time.”
Our names are announced over the speakers and Dad squeezes my hand. “It will be over in a few minutes. Just try to be happy.”
Last time Dad whispered something to me, it was before my surgery. I wondered then if he’d really stick around. Now I’m not sure he’ll ever leave us alone. Mom’s had to force him out of the house several times within the last couple of weeks. And even though they get along, they’re still different people. Whatever they had before can’t ever be the same. But I’ve learned that keeping something the same means that it can’t grow. I can’t ever be the same; it’s time for me to become something different.
Samuel leads me past the black curtains to the center of the stage. I blink through the bright lights and focus on the thumping in my chest. Principal Brown walks towards us with a crown and tiara. His footsteps echo through the auditorium with each
thud
. No one speaks, no one moves. My back is rigid and my hands tremble. The principal places the crown on Samuel’s head then holds the tiara in his long fingers. Silence encompasses the room and I close my eyes. I imagine Giana, the queen of a ball. She floats in her blue dress and laughs when they put the tiara on her head.
My eyes burn, but I hold back the tears. Giana would want this to be a happy moment. I look at the crowd and
even though they can’t see my lips, I smile. Someone sniffles on the front row and I find Mo somewhere near them. His expression is hard, guarded. Another sniffle and a wave of emotion ripples through the room. Giana may not have known the name of each student, but they will never forget hers. Her story will always be alive. And even though she may have only saved my life, her example might lead the way to saving others.
I find Mom and Kyler in the crowd, sitting next to
Cindy. The relief on her face is contagious and I finally know the time has come to visit Giana.
* * *
I’m hand in hand with Kyler and he’s leading me to the place I know I need to be, but am hesitant to get to. We walk through the grass and a warm breeze floats across my skin. The air smells of plants, flowers, and life, but the surrounding headstones are solemn beacons of death. Each step toward Giana’s grave seems to weigh me down. I’m still not sure what to feel. I’ve thought of this day over and over again. But now that it’s here, my mind’s in limbo. I’ve grieved over the loss of a good friend and celebrated the new life she’s given me. And even though our personal connection is gone, I still think of her as being with me all the time.
Kyler stops and points to a grave on my right. I’d been so lost in my thoughts, I didn’t see it coming. The black lettering stands out against the pearly white marble. I stare at the words and remember the first time I saw Giana, handing me the food that saved my day. And now she has given me much more. Below her name and living years is a quote. I whisper it softly. “Always giving—
”
I close my mouth and hold onto the words. The sentence lingers in the air, waiting to be finished. But I can’t say it, it’s too real and it’s too much.
“Even in death,” Kyler says, finishing the quote and hugging me close.
I clench his shirt in one fist and the stem of a rose in the other
. The thorns prick my skin and remind me why I’m here. I take a deep breath and fill Giana’s lungs with air. Even though she lies beneath the ground, part of her is still alive.
I kneel beside her grave, place the red rose beneath the quote, and rest my hand on top. As much as I’d like to s
peak the words running through my mind, I can’t get them to come out. I sniff back a few tears and feel Kyler’s hand on my shoulder. He knows what I want to say and since no one else can hear me, I say it to myself.
I’ll never forget
you, Giana. You’ve given me a lifetime of breaths. You’re selfless and caring and never once hesitated to call me friend. I’ll be there for your family and give your niece all the hope I can. No matter how much hope that is, though, it can never match the amount you’ve already given me. With your lungs, you proved that you could change my fate. As long as I live, there will be a live rose on your grave, representing your life that continues in me. I’m forever grateful. I’ll miss you, Giana, but you’ll always be with me.
I press my hand against the cool stone and stand. Kyler leads me to the car without a sound. Before open
ing my door, he pulls me close. His arms tighten around me and his minty breath lightly touches my face. His gaze is piercing, his eyes singing songs that only my heart can hear. He whispers something in French and kisses me softly on the lips.
I’m flying free, soaring across the sea, dancing around the Eiffel Tower. My heart flutters a million beats, reminding me that I’m alive. Alive and not alone.
Too soon, the kiss ends and we get in the car to drive away. And even though we leave Giana behind, she’ll be with me forever. Without her, I couldn’t have this moment. This breath. This life. I didn’t know what it meant to
be
, but now that I do…I can finally
become
.
Thank you for purchasing this book.
You have
be
come part of the cause to finding a cure.
To learn more about cystic fibrosis, visit
www.CFF.org
.
I’d like to thank God for being with me on this journey every single step of the way. This book was supposed to be written and apparently I was supposed to write it. Thanks to my parents, who taught me what’s most important in life. My hubby, for his constant support and endless love. My little princesses, who make me smile every day. Jamie and Regan, who inspired this whole thing and who also introduced me to Sara. I could have never written this book without you, Sara. You taught me about CF and brought this idea to life. Tiffany, who is my personal cheerleader and cover designer. Janie and Nina for their willingness to jump on board and capture the meaning of this book through a lens. My editor, Alice M. for your countless hours on getting everything just right. TK Productions (Kindra) for the awesome headshots and book trailer. Your skills are magical! Thanks to Shallee, Melanie, Carol, Annette, Kelley, and my many beta readers who caught little things to make the story shine. You’re all rockin’ awesome!
Most of all I want to thank my college roommate, who offered her book exchange money to assist my small family still in school. My neighbor, who helped me get three little kids to a third floor apartment on a regular basis. To my friend, who brought a carload of groceries in my moment of struggle. To the countless people in my life who’ve taught me what it means to
be
. Hopefully, together, we can all
become
.
Michelle Merrill loves kissing her hubby, snuggling her kids, eating candy, reading books, and writing first drafts. She names her computers after favorite fictional characters and fictional characters after favorite names.
To learn more about her, visit
www.authormichellemerrill.com
,
https://twitter.com/merrillwrites
,
https://www.facebook.com/authormichellemerrill
.