“What?” Charlotte asks through a hitched breath.
“I won’t make it through this next year,” Ari says without wavering a syllable.
Charlotte isn’t as strong, however. Tears are barreling down her cheeks; leaving red streaks down the center of her already flushed skin. There are no words to follow Ari’s, as I’ve already learned. Instead of speaking, Charlotte leaps toward Ari and wraps her arms around her neck. I wonder if Charlotte has ever been told by a person that they are dying or if this is a first for her, too. I’m guessing it is. Charlotte’s eyes are wide, unblinking, and staring directly at me as if someone just delivered world-shattering news.It definitely shatters our own little world and changes everything.
Ari wraps her arms around Charlotte in return and rests her head on her shoulder. “I’ll be there for you,” Charlotte says. “Every day. Whatever you need. We’ll all be there for you.”
Hearing the warm words float from Charlotte’s mouth highlights the feelings I have always felt toward her. “That isn’t necessary, but thank you for the kind offer,” Ari says, pulling away from Charlotte’s tight grip.
“You must be out of your mind,” Charlotte argues. “I’m your friend and I will do anything I can to be whatever you need from here on out.”
I know they have spoken when their paths have crossed but I’m not sure I would have classified them as friends in the awkward situation I created for the three of us. “I don’t want to put you through what is about to happen to me,” Ari explains. “Especially Hunter.”
“Stop worrying about me,” I tell Ari.
“Look,” Ari says. “I came over here today because I need you two to work things out and be there for each other. I need to let Ellie know that I did what I promised I would do and that is to make sure Hunter is happy. I made this promise to her years ago when she knew her time would come sooner rather than later. I made this promise when neither of us knew who would outlive whom.
Charlotte and I are in a stare off, apparently trying to read each other’s minds.
“It might take some time to intertwine your pieces back together,” Ari says, looking between the two of us, “but Charlotte is your path, Hunter.” Ari holds her focus on Charlotte now. “And Hunter is yours. I’ve never been surer of anything in my entire life.”
“Ari,” Charlotte says, but without anything to follow it up with, silence fills the empty room.
With what feels like the longest minute of my life, Olive’s footsteps eliminate the icy silence and she runs toward Ari and wraps her arms around her legs. “Did you tell him?” she asks Ari.
Question and heat spread through me rapidly, wondering what Olive knows and what Ari told her. She is my daughter and I will be the one to explain life and death to her. That is my job and my right; one no one should take from me. Though I realize I might be assuming too much, I can’t for the life of me imagine what else Olive could be referring to. When would Ari have told her?
“Tell me what, Olive?” I try to keep my voice calm and my breaths tamed but my face is burning and I’m sure it’s red.
“I haven’t yet, Olive,” Ari says.
“Ari has a gift for you,” Olive says.
Ari reaches into her purse and pulls out an envelope. “Read this when it’s too late to thank me,” she says, handing it to me. The coffee filter looking envelope matches all of the others she sent to me over the years. “Promise me.”
My words feel lodged in my throat so I do the next best thing and nod a yes.
“I know you’re saying your goodbyes right now, Ari, but you haven’t seen the last of us,” Charlotte says sternly. “You’ll have to hire an army to keep us away.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
- DECEMBER 26th -
I climb intobed with Olive, wrapping my arm around her, embracing the warmness her body offers. Her curls are splayed across her pillow in a knotted mess and her cheeks are the perfect shade of pink. It is her birthday, but she is my gift. Seven years, this little girl and I have made it. Seven years. “Happy Birthday, Ollie,” I whisper into her ear.
She whips her head, turning over onto her side to face me, leaving me with a face and mouthful of hair. “It’s my birthday,” she croaks. “I feel so old today.” With quiet laughter, she drags herself up against the headboard, pulling the blankets up to her waist. “Ready?”
I smile and stand up to open the blinds. “Now I’m ready,” I tell her.
“Happy Birth Day to you,” she begins in her soft voice that mimics a soothing lullaby. I join in with her as we continue, “Happy Birth Day to you. Happy Birth Day, dear Mommy, Happy Birth Day to you.”
I make it through our yearly tradition without tears this year but only because the happiness pouring from Olive’s eyes right now makes it impossible to feel sadness.
“My turn,” I tell her.
“Happy Birthday, toyou,” I sing all the way through. I lean over the side of the bed and pull out her gift, placing it gently on her blanket- covered lap.
“What is it?” she asks, clapping her hands while bouncing up and down.
