In a Heartbeat
Need to Know (Part 3)
Melody's POV
I wasn't sure I was ready to tell Harry about Will. I wasn't sure I was ready to tell anybody. And I never expected the person I would tell would be an internationally famous person. Or anyone famous for that matter. I had expected it to be one or both of the Katrinas, my best friends.
Harry followed me to the door leading back out to the music room. I stopped in front of the picture next to it and looked at Harry.
"This is where it began."
I told Harry about the day I was born, how Will, who was only three at the time, came running into the hospital room as soon as he was permitted to, screaming at the top of his lungs, wanting to see his new sister. I told him how the night I came home, I cried and cried and no matter what my parents did, they couldn't get me to sleep. But Will started drumming on my crib and it lulled me to sleep. I pointed at the picture next to the one we were standing in front of as I told him that story. It was of Will tapping the side of the crib, looking through the bars and smiling.
I told Harry about my third birthday, when Will decided it was time for me to learn how to play the piano. I told him how Will would sit in my bedroom for hours on end, teaching me the order of the keys never getting frustrated or impatient.
"For his birthday, Will asked for a new keyboard piano. He never touched it. Then, on my fifth birthday, he gave it to me and started teaching me how to hold my hands and which fingers play which keys," I said to Harry, pointing at a picture of little five-year-old me and eight-year-old Will wearing party hats and playing the piano. "He never got impatient with me. He just sat there and corrected my mistakes, teaching me little by little."
I told him how Will started playing guitar that year and how he would come home and teach me everything he learned after he came home from his lessons.
I told him how Will started learning more and more instruments and kept teaching me. We moved on to the third wall.
"When I was eight and Will was 10, we hosted our annual family reunion. Every year, we have a karaoke-off, and this year was no different. Except this time, Will and I participated," I said. "We have an official competition with prizes and brackets, and sometimes the local newspaper gets wind of it and the winner gets a blurb on the back page of the paper. Will and I were up against the winner of the past four years in the final bracket, and we won." I smiled, pointing at the framed cutout newspaper square. "That's when I realized that I wanted to sing for the rest of my life."
I showed him every picture on the wall, and told him the story behind each one. I told Harry of how we acquired all the instruments and finished the basement (Will and I competed in singing competitions and got thousands of dollars in prize money) and how we got the recording studio (A joint birthday present from Mom and Dad to Will and me).
I opened the door to the soundbooth and continued telling Harry about my life from the day we went to the doctor.
"When Will was 13, he started to get sick a lot and he would bruise from the smallest things, like playing the guitar or barely bumping into something. We brought him in to the clinic and Carl, the doctor that Niall went to about his nose, ran some blood tests. A few weeks later, he called us in to the hospital to meet with us," I said, tears running down my face. I touched another picture frame and pressed my back to the wall and slid down it, burying my face in my hands. The picture was of Will laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs and grinning. I choked on the words I said next. "Will had leukemia. Cancer."
*Flashback*
"The test results are in, and the news I have isn't very good," Carl said cautiously. "Will has leukemia. Acute lymphocytic leukemia, to be exact. It's cancer in the blood. His body is producing more and more white blood cells, which help protect against disease, but in the case of leukemia, the white blood cells are cancer-infected and outnumber the rest of the cells in the bloodstream. That's why he's bruising so badly. His body is so busy making white blood cells that it's not making enough platelets to clot blood."
Will just sat in his chair, staring at the doctor. Mom was crying, and Dad was trying to calm her down. Heather looked scared, as did Ella, who was only seven at the time. I was sobbing uncontrollably, because I knew cancer was a bad thing and it could kill you.
"I have made arrangements on the oncology floor of the children's hospital for Will to be admitted today. His treatment starts a few hours after getting settled," Carl continued, fixing his steely gaze on Will. "You need to pack some clothes and one or two personal possessions. Nothing too precious, though."
Will nodded his head, unable to speak.
Three hours later...
Will had gotten settled in his hospital room and an oncologist was talking to us about Will's treatment and possible effects of the chemotherapy on his body. I learned that his immune system would be weakened considerably, and he would lose weight and his appetite. Some days he wouldn't be able to keep his food down and others he would be ravenous. The latter wouldn't be as often as the first. He would have 24-hour access to the kitchen by nurse and could have as many visitors as he wanted, so as long as they were there only during visiting hours. Only immediate family could stay overnight.
I spent every night there and grew accustomed to the feel of sleeping on a hospital bed, as they didn't have a roll-away bed or cot. About a week into his hospital stay, we walked down to the entertainment room and discovered the instruments there. We started playing the few instruments they had, and we soon had a small crowd gathered around us. When we realized it, we stopped playing and started to put the instruments away. But a little girl with wavy brown hair and round cheeks tugged on my shirtsleeve.
"Please don't stop. I want to hear you make music so I can dance," she said, looking up at me with her huge brown eyes.
"Okay. Let's ask my brother first, though," I answered. She said the same to Will, and he looked at me. I nodded and picked up a guitar. He sat down at the piano and began playing a familiar tune. I recognized it almost immediately and started playing along with it. I started to sing along, and soon Will joined in.
You're a part-time lover and a full-time friend,
The monkey on your back is the latest trend.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,
Kiss you all starry-eyed, my body swingin' from side to side.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Here is the church and here is the steeple,
We sure are cute for two ugly people.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me,
So, why can't you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
You are always tryin' to keep it real,
I'm in love with how you feel.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
We both have shiny, happy fits of rage,
You want more fans, I want more stage.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo but you.
The kids laughed and danced, some even sang along. It was the happiest I'd felt since Will was diagnosed. I made children happy, too. And that was the best part.
*End of Flashback*
I calmed down a little, enough to finish my story. I told Harry about Will's hospital stay and how we performed for the kids whenever Will felt up to it.
"The little girl came up to me a few weeks later and told me she was going home in two days. She said she would miss hearing us play for them," I said, remembering Alayna. "Of all the children there, she was my favorite. She would bring Will and me brownies and cookies and draw pictures for us." I pointed at a picture of a small girl who was bone-thin and wore a wig. Beneath it was a picture she drew of Will and me performing for the hospital residents. "I still have every single one."
"Wow," was all Harry said.
"Will got better after a few months and he could go home. But we still visited once a week to perform for the kids again. He was doing outpatient therapy (forgive me if that's not the right term) and visited every few weeks anyway," I said. "We actually raised money. We didn't even know it until the hospital told us that people had started asking where they could donate to. We paid bills for two families, Harry," I said, smiling faintly. "Plus our own. And we still had enough to donate to cancer research," I stopped smiling as I continued.
"Will relapsed a year later. He had to go back to the hospital. The oncologists told us there wasn't much they could do except give him the same chemotherapy as before and hope for the best," I said. "Will got better in a few weeks and was in remission again. We continued performing for the kids and even recorded some of our most requested songs to put on a CD and handed them out to the kids who wanted them.
"We made so many kids happy. We gave them hope."
"Do you still have a copy of the CD?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"Just wondering."
"Ooookay? Anyway, almost a year ago, I stayed home from our hospital performance because I had a cold and anything can make a cancer kid die. Even a cold that a healthy person can get over in a matter of days can be potentially life-threatening to someone with cancer," I said, tears starting to roll down my cheeks again. "He was on his way home from the hospital when his car was hit by a truck." My voice cracked on the last word. The tears were flowing freely now. I pulled a black-and-white photo out of my pocket. I had folded and unfolded it many times, and kept it with me wherever I went. It was a picture of the accident from above. You could just barely make out the people, but you could tell they were EMTs. My brother was the one on the stretcher. The truck driver was unharmed.
"The driver ran a red light and crashed into my brother. I got a call from Will's phone from Heather and she told me I needed to get to the hospital right away. I was 14. There was no way I could get there fast enough. So I ran. I ran the entire way, never stopping, never slowing down. When I got there, everyone was rushing around. I started yelling at people. 'Where's my brother? Where's Will?' A doctor asked me who I was and I told him. His eyes got wide and he shoved me toward the elevator and took me to Will's room." I could barely talk now. "He died holding my hand, Harry. He died."
I wasn't sure I was ready to tell Harry about Will. I wasn't sure I was ready to tell anybody. And I never expected the person I would tell would be an internationally famous person. Or anyone famous for that matter. I had expected it to be one or both of the Katrinas, my best friends.
Harry followed me to the door leading back out to the music room. I stopped in front of the picture next to it and looked at Harry.
"This is where it began."
I told Harry about the day I was born, how Will, who was only three at the time, came running into the hospital room as soon as he was permitted to, screaming at the top of his lungs, wanting to see his new sister. I told him how the night I came home, I cried and cried and no matter what my parents did, they couldn't get me to sleep. But Will started drumming on my crib and it lulled me to sleep. I pointed at the picture next to the one we were standing in front of as I told him that story. It was of Will tapping the side of the crib, looking through the bars and smiling.
I told Harry about my third birthday, when Will decided it was time for me to learn how to play the piano. I told him how Will would sit in my bedroom for hours on end, teaching me the order of the keys never getting frustrated or impatient.
"For his birthday, Will asked for a new keyboard piano. He never touched it. Then, on my fifth birthday, he gave it to me and started teaching me how to hold my hands and which fingers play which keys," I said to Harry, pointing at a picture of little five-year-old me and eight-year-old Will wearing party hats and playing the piano. "He never got impatient with me. He just sat there and corrected my mistakes, teaching me little by little."
I told him how Will started playing guitar that year and how he would come home and teach me everything he learned after he came home from his lessons.
I told him how Will started learning more and more instruments and kept teaching me. We moved on to the third wall.
"When I was eight and Will was 10, we hosted our annual family reunion. Every year, we have a karaoke-off, and this year was no different. Except this time, Will and I participated," I said. "We have an official competition with prizes and brackets, and sometimes the local newspaper gets wind of it and the winner gets a blurb on the back page of the paper. Will and I were up against the winner of the past four years in the final bracket, and we won." I smiled, pointing at the framed cutout newspaper square. "That's when I realized that I wanted to sing for the rest of my life."
I showed him every picture on the wall, and told him the story behind each one. I told Harry of how we acquired all the instruments and finished the basement (Will and I competed in singing competitions and got thousands of dollars in prize money) and how we got the recording studio (A joint birthday present from Mom and Dad to Will and me).
I opened the door to the soundbooth and continued telling Harry about my life from the day we went to the doctor.
"When Will was 13, he started to get sick a lot and he would bruise from the smallest things, like playing the guitar or barely bumping into something. We brought him in to the clinic and Carl, the doctor that Niall went to about his nose, ran some blood tests. A few weeks later, he called us in to the hospital to meet with us," I said, tears running down my face. I touched another picture frame and pressed my back to the wall and slid down it, burying my face in my hands. The picture was of Will laying in a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs and grinning. I choked on the words I said next. "Will had leukemia. Cancer."
*Flashback*
"The test results are in, and the news I have isn't very good," Carl said cautiously. "Will has leukemia. Acute lymphocytic leukemia, to be exact. It's cancer in the blood. His body is producing more and more white blood cells, which help protect against disease, but in the case of leukemia, the white blood cells are cancer-infected and outnumber the rest of the cells in the bloodstream. That's why he's bruising so badly. His body is so busy making white blood cells that it's not making enough platelets to clot blood."
Will just sat in his chair, staring at the doctor. Mom was crying, and Dad was trying to calm her down. Heather looked scared, as did Ella, who was only seven at the time. I was sobbing uncontrollably, because I knew cancer was a bad thing and it could kill you.
"I have made arrangements on the oncology floor of the children's hospital for Will to be admitted today. His treatment starts a few hours after getting settled," Carl continued, fixing his steely gaze on Will. "You need to pack some clothes and one or two personal possessions. Nothing too precious, though."
Will nodded his head, unable to speak.
Three hours later...
Will had gotten settled in his hospital room and an oncologist was talking to us about Will's treatment and possible effects of the chemotherapy on his body. I learned that his immune system would be weakened considerably, and he would lose weight and his appetite. Some days he wouldn't be able to keep his food down and others he would be ravenous. The latter wouldn't be as often as the first. He would have 24-hour access to the kitchen by nurse and could have as many visitors as he wanted, so as long as they were there only during visiting hours. Only immediate family could stay overnight.
I spent every night there and grew accustomed to the feel of sleeping on a hospital bed, as they didn't have a roll-away bed or cot. About a week into his hospital stay, we walked down to the entertainment room and discovered the instruments there. We started playing the few instruments they had, and we soon had a small crowd gathered around us. When we realized it, we stopped playing and started to put the instruments away. But a little girl with wavy brown hair and round cheeks tugged on my shirtsleeve.
"Please don't stop. I want to hear you make music so I can dance," she said, looking up at me with her huge brown eyes.
"Okay. Let's ask my brother first, though," I answered. She said the same to Will, and he looked at me. I nodded and picked up a guitar. He sat down at the piano and began playing a familiar tune. I recognized it almost immediately and started playing along with it. I started to sing along, and soon Will joined in.
You're a part-time lover and a full-time friend,
The monkey on your back is the latest trend.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
I kiss you on the brain in the shadow of the train,
Kiss you all starry-eyed, my body swingin' from side to side.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Here is the church and here is the steeple,
We sure are cute for two ugly people.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Pebbles forgive me, the trees forgive me,
So, why can't you forgive me?
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
You are always tryin' to keep it real,
I'm in love with how you feel.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
We both have shiny, happy fits of rage,
You want more fans, I want more stage.
I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you.
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo doo but you.
The kids laughed and danced, some even sang along. It was the happiest I'd felt since Will was diagnosed. I made children happy, too. And that was the best part.
*End of Flashback*
I calmed down a little, enough to finish my story. I told Harry about Will's hospital stay and how we performed for the kids whenever Will felt up to it.
"The little girl came up to me a few weeks later and told me she was going home in two days. She said she would miss hearing us play for them," I said, remembering Alayna. "Of all the children there, she was my favorite. She would bring Will and me brownies and cookies and draw pictures for us." I pointed at a picture of a small girl who was bone-thin and wore a wig. Beneath it was a picture she drew of Will and me performing for the hospital residents. "I still have every single one."
"Wow," was all Harry said.
"Will got better after a few months and he could go home. But we still visited once a week to perform for the kids again. He was doing outpatient therapy (forgive me if that's not the right term) and visited every few weeks anyway," I said. "We actually raised money. We didn't even know it until the hospital told us that people had started asking where they could donate to. We paid bills for two families, Harry," I said, smiling faintly. "Plus our own. And we still had enough to donate to cancer research," I stopped smiling as I continued.
"Will relapsed a year later. He had to go back to the hospital. The oncologists told us there wasn't much they could do except give him the same chemotherapy as before and hope for the best," I said. "Will got better in a few weeks and was in remission again. We continued performing for the kids and even recorded some of our most requested songs to put on a CD and handed them out to the kids who wanted them.
"We made so many kids happy. We gave them hope."
"Do you still have a copy of the CD?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, why?"
"Just wondering."
"Ooookay? Anyway, almost a year ago, I stayed home from our hospital performance because I had a cold and anything can make a cancer kid die. Even a cold that a healthy person can get over in a matter of days can be potentially life-threatening to someone with cancer," I said, tears starting to roll down my cheeks again. "He was on his way home from the hospital when his car was hit by a truck." My voice cracked on the last word. The tears were flowing freely now. I pulled a black-and-white photo out of my pocket. I had folded and unfolded it many times, and kept it with me wherever I went. It was a picture of the accident from above. You could just barely make out the people, but you could tell they were EMTs. My brother was the one on the stretcher. The truck driver was unharmed.
"The driver ran a red light and crashed into my brother. I got a call from Will's phone from Heather and she told me I needed to get to the hospital right away. I was 14. There was no way I could get there fast enough. So I ran. I ran the entire way, never stopping, never slowing down. When I got there, everyone was rushing around. I started yelling at people. 'Where's my brother? Where's Will?' A doctor asked me who I was and I told him. His eyes got wide and he shoved me toward the elevator and took me to Will's room." I could barely talk now. "He died holding my hand, Harry. He died."
HEY. Your official-unofficial announcements sadden me. No promises or not, I really, really, really, really, really, really, REALLY hope you decide to eventually continue. I won't even be mad if you do a rewrite but dude, you gotta do something. I WILL DIE IF THIS STORY DOES NOT CONTINUE.
5/2/16