Page 12 of The Wish

T hat evening Alex sits in his home office surrounded by banks of computer monitors and equipment, totally focused on playing several games simultaneously through his PlayStation.

Someone else toiled to make the games he has enjoyed and played for a long time.

This is his time out, his relaxation. When he is forced to focus on the games, everything else disappears.

A pizza box beside him is untouched. Max sleeps at his feet, a toy stuffed under his chin.

Blindly Alex reaches for a piece of pizza, takes a bite and shivers, it is cold.

Max opens one eye and licks his lips. As Alex goes to put it back in the box, he sees Jesse’s sketches and photos.

Closing the pizza box and moving it aside, he replaces it with the sketches, wipes his hands and begins studying the images once again.

Reaching down he scratches Max on the head.

‘What have I agreed to, Max?’

Back in her room, Jesse lies in bed, a dinner tray in front of her, her favourite pasta with a tub of ice cream.

She can only stomach the ice cream. Amy’s family has taken her downstairs to the canteen, so Jesse’s on her own for now.

She pushes the pasta around on her plate, lost in thoughts of project plans and proofs of concept and how they all tie in with her memories.

Her mind is whirring with possibilities, but she’s also aware that she’s more tired than usual.

She is brought back to the room when her mum and Sam appear at her door.

Sam jumps on Jesse’s bed hugging his sister tightly. Her mum joins in on the hug.

‘Well, sweetheart, you’re looking a bit brighter this evening.’

‘Mum, you missed him. He came back. Sam, he came back!’ she squeals with delight.

‘Who did we miss, honey?’ her mother asks.

‘Alex. He came—’

‘The person you sent away yesterday. The one who upset you?’

‘Yes, he came back and guess what, he’s going to help me with my wish.’ Jesse notes the concern in her mother’s eyes. ‘You don’t need to worry, Mum. His name’s Alex and he really gets what I want to do. He understands my vision in a way that no one else has before.’

Sam wriggles out of his hug looking at his sister with big eyes. ‘Your dream’s coming true?’ His voice is full of wonder.

‘It looks like it,’ she says, ruffling her brother’s hair.

Jesse hears the heavy footsteps that can only belong to her father. ‘How’s my baby girl?’ Dean asks as he kisses Jesse on the top of the head.

‘Dad, Alex came back, we’re going to make my wish.’

‘ What ?’ Dean says too firmly, looking from Jesse to his wife.

‘My game, well, my experience, my wish—’

‘Don’t you think you should be concentrating on getting better? Not some silly game!’

Jesse blinks, stunned. It’s not some silly game , she thinks. Her dad doesn’t realise how cutting his words can be. She looks to her mum for support, to find her already studying her face, taking in her hurt and disappointment.

‘Dean, that’s enough,’ Mandy says, taking one of Jesse’s hands in hers. ‘Jesse was just telling us about Alex’s visit.’

‘Who is this guy, Alex ?’ Dean spits out. ‘What do we know about him?’

‘Dad!’ Jesse cries out.

‘He’s the person who wants to help Jesse get her wish. Don’t worry, he’s been vetted by the hospital and the foundation,’ her mum says, clearly trying to pacify her husband.

But Jesse’s father is not to be mollified. ‘Wasn’t he the one who walked out on you yesterday? Why are we trusting someone like that?’

‘Dean,’ her mother says firmly, ‘you’re being unreasonable. Let’s just hear Jesse out.’

‘Oh, unreasonable , am I?’ He laughs hollowly. ‘Yes, it’s so unreasonable of me to expect a level of caution when it comes to young men hanging around my daughter—’

‘Stop it. Stop it!’ Sam yells, pulling away from Jesse.

‘Look what you’ve done!’ Jesse’s mum snaps.

Going on the defensive, Dean backs away, hands raised. ‘OK, I’ll shut up. Forgive me for giving a damn.’

‘Yes, that’s right, you shut up, you’re good at that, really good at not saying what you’re thinking or feeling except to criticise—’

‘Stop it. Jesse, make them stop,’ Sam pleads, his hands over his ears.

Dean attempts to reach out to his son, but Mandy steps in his way. ‘I think it’s best if you go now.’

‘Fine, I’ll see you all later,’ he says, walking out of the room.

Jesse has been watching all this in horror.

Just a few minutes ago, she was buzzing with energy and excitement; now she’s watching the people she loves most in the world – the people this wish is for – tear each other apart.

She touches Sam on the shoulder, and he crawls up into her arms. When their mother attempts to hold him, he flinches.

‘Leave Jesse and me alone,’ Sam stammers.

‘Darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fight with your father.’

‘I said leave us alone.’

Jesse nods at her mother, indicating that she’s got this.

Mandy stands, helplessly looking at her children. Sam’s words are like knives to her heart, and tears spring to her eyes.

‘It’s all right, Mum, I’ll look after Sam for a while. It’ll be all right.’ Jesse’s voice is calm but firm. Mandy registers how their roles are reversed. Her child is taking charge of the situation, as her parents squabble like teenagers.

Fighting back tears, Mandy stumbles to the door.

She turns to see Sam sliding under the covers with Jesse, her arms enfolding him.

Outside the room, Mandy leans against the wall trying to compose herself.

Visitors walk past, seeing her visibly upset, they look down and hurry on – they can only guess what she’s dealing with.

Everyone in this ward is facing the unimaginable.

Looking up Mandy sees Dean enter the nearby Parents’ Room.

She follows him, wary of another outburst but unsure what else to do.

At the door, Mandy watches as Dean scans the room.

Two distinct groups are gathered at each end.

He looks at the group of mothers, nods at the ones he recognises.

The women are drinking coffee, sharing concerns about their children, comforting each other where needed.

At the far end of the room, the fathers congregate.

A game of football plays quietly on a big screen and all eyes are on it.

Dean gets himself a glass of water and joins the men.

Mandy continues to stand at the doorway, not yet ready for Dean to see she’s there.

They are only a few metres apart, but the distance between them could be continents wide.

‘How you doing?’ several of the men ask Dean as he approaches.

‘You know how it is,’ he answers.

All the men murmur in agreement. Yes, they all know exactly how it is.

‘Great mob, that Inspire a Wish foundation,’ one of the men says quietly, not making eye contact with anyone.

Dean stares grimly at the screen, not answering.

An awkward silence surrounds the men for several moments before one of the fathers changes the subject.

‘So, who’s your money on here, Dean, think our boys can pull it off?’

Mandy registers Dean relaxing a little and so goes to join the women. She sees his head turn towards her but chooses not to meet his eye.

‘How are you bearing up, Mandy?’ It’s Lauren. Her little boy is only seven but has been in and out of hospital almost as often as Jesse has.

‘I’m getting there. Good days and bad days, you know?’ She takes a deep breath. ‘Jesse, though, she’s amazing. I wish I had an ounce of her strength.’

It’s all she can do to stop herself from crying.

She feels Lauren’s hand on her shoulder, another hand patting her back.

She lets the tears come. These women know , they understand, in a deeper way than any of her well-meaning friends and colleagues who sympathise but can’t comprehend what she’s going through.

These other mothers do, and she’s grateful to all of them.

Someone sits her down, another woman offers her a glass of water.

Mandy feels held here, her feelings acknowledged and allowed to flow – no judgement, no blame.

She senses Dean looking at her again, and this time she raises her eyes to his.

He doesn’t seem angry any longer, just deeply sad.

He holds her gaze but then, in a gesture of defeat, he turns back to the football game.

This is Dean all over , she thinks to herself.

His fear of losing control, of uncertainty, of the prospect of loss.

His blunt refusal of anything that might remind him of Jesse’s prognosis.

His lack of acceptance, stuck forever in the anger part of the grieving process.

She cannot fix him; she has given up trying.

‘I’m home!’ Mandy burst into their house. ‘And I have a surprise!’

It was an evening in July. Mandy was late.

She had driven from the dealership, buzzing with the excitement of a new purchase.

Her first car bought from new, not second-hand, the kind that she had been dreaming about for years: leather interior, heated seats, a state-of-the-art sound system.

It handled like a dream. And it was, not a reward, exactly – she checked herself.

Actually, yes, why not? It was a reward – for the promotion in April, to publishing director, her family had been too sad to celebrate.

For her birthday in May that went unmarked – which was understandable, given everything that was going on at the time, with Jesse’s health and with Sam playing up at school – but it was her fortieth.

Even though she told them the family dinner Dean, Jesse and Sam cooked for her was enough, the handmade cards from them all, including the one Dean had been bullied into making with his daughter and son, had touched her deeply.

But then again, there was the last eighteen months of hell.

‘Good of you to drop by,’ said Dean, under his breath.