Marlowe

I was hit by a blast of cold air as I ran from Bì Yù’s apartment building. I was standing by the kerb, waiting for a break in the traffic, when I saw Harper’s oxygen tank on the far side of the road. It had been run over and the mask had cracked and split. ‘No!’

I crossed the road and my mind went wild with images of Harper: on the ground, bleeding, having been hit by a car… or lying frozen and blue-lipped in a remote corner of the park, unable to breathe.

I ran through the large gate into Zhōngshān Park and remembered walking through it holding Mum’s hand while Harper and Bì Yù raced ahead. I heard Mum’s voice say, ‘Míng Yuè, look up.’ Above us was a canopy of blossoms in magenta and soft pinks.

The path forked and without thinking I chose the right-hand path.

Then I saw the flash of a red coat in the distance: it was Harper, slumped against a plum tree. Bì Yù was already by her side.

I sprinted, my legs on fire.

The sight of Harper shocked the breath from my lungs. Eyes closed, she looked eerily serene, her bruised lips parted in a half-smile.

My fingers fumbled at the cool skin of her neck for a pulse. I held my breath… then exhaled. It was faint, but it was there.

‘You wait here – I’ll get an ambulance.’ Bì Yù turned and ran.

I took off my coat and wrapped it around Harper’s limp body, then I sat beneath the tree.

I lifted her onto my lap, drawing her close to share my warmth.

‘Oh, Harper,’ I whispered, ‘forgive me.’

The siren wailed overhead as we squeezed in beside Harper’s gurney in the ambulance. Two paramedics dressed in black and white stabbed the skin on her arm with a large needle as they tried to find a vein. Her eyes opened and closed as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Blood oozed from her puncture wounds and I felt the veins in my own body shudder. Don’t hurt her! I wanted to scream, and at the same time, Hurry, please fix her, try harder for a vein! Wires threaded out from her chest under the blankets.

‘They can’t find a vein because she’s too dehydrated.’ I grabbed hold of Bì Yù’s hand and gripped it tightly. Bì Yù stroked my hand, like Harper would. Her touch was comforting.

Harper’s rasping breath grew louder. ‘My sound.’

I looked up.

Harper’s eyes fluttered open. ‘My sound.’

‘Tell me…’ I steadied my voice. ‘What are you trying to say?’

She pointed to her chest. ‘Listen.’

I put my ear to her heart. The beating in her chest was faint, its rhythm erratic.

Abruptly an alarm started to blare. She was flatlining.

I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

The paramedics moved swiftly, pumping Harper’s chest and filling her lungs with oxygen.

I found my voice. ‘Fix her! You have to fix her!’

Bì Yù pulled me close and held me tight. I didn’t know if it was my body shaking or hers.

I should have been more persistent; I should have got her a transplant earlier.

But then I thought of the last entry in Harper’s storybook. I closed my eyes. I heard a voice in my head: I am water. I am water. I saw Mum’s face. She was smiling at me.

‘I’m so sorry, Harper.’ Words spilled out of my mouth. ‘I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry.’ I recalled now how she had begged me to take her home, how she had told me over and over that she didn’t want someone else’s heart. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ But my words were futile. They couldn’t change anything. They couldn’t take me back in time.

Suddenly, the alarm stopped and beeping from the heart monitor resumed. The male paramedic told us that they had found a sinus rhythm. The female paramedic ceased performing CPR.

I exhaled. She’s back. A swelling in my throat found its way to my eyes. We swayed to the left as the ambulance swiftly turned a corner and came to a stop. The doors swung open and chill air rushed in. As the medics slid the gurney from the back of the ambulance and wheeled it into the hospital, I ran alongside it, gripping Harper’s hand. Doctors met us at the door, speaking quickly.

I looked at Bì Yù. ‘She can’t die here,’ I said. ‘I need to take her home. She needs to say good—’ Goodbye. I found myself choking on the word. ‘I need to call Dad. I need to tell him…’

‘Don’t worry,’ Bì Yù said. ‘I’ve already spoken with him. He’s on his way. They’re all on their way.’

My shoulders slumped in relief.

Harper’s hand twitched in mine. I looked down, her chestnut hair was splayed over the pillow. Her face was smooth, unmarked by tension. She seemed so peaceful.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.

We had reached the entrance to the ICU. The doctors told us we couldn’t come any further. Bì Yù took me by the shoulders. Harper’s hand slipped from mine. I watched as she disappeared from sight. Large doors swung back and forth until they finally settled.