Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

him or what I even want to say, but I’ll try. Can I climb up on the bed with him for a few minutes?”

“Yes!” I yelled. “Yes!” But Charlie didn’t hear me, and darkness fell again.

Finally: A familiar weight, the scent of a boy. Back in my body, I felt it all. A warm hand against my cheek and along my chin. Charlie on the bed, tears on his face, redness to his nose and eyes. Is this how he felt, so full of abject sadness? What was he thinking now? The torment I felt inside—did it compare to what he felt? He rested his head on my chest. Did he feel it rising and falling?

He moved his mouth, and I leaned in to hear the words. Nothing. But Sadie left the room then, a haunted look in her eyes.

A heat burned within me, tremors erupted along my spine, goose bumps on my arms and legs. Straining to hear, more words, more nothing. I watched as Charlie looked around the room. What did he see? My essence moved to linger right behind his back, taking in the view he had: white walls, beige tile, and a corkboard full of medical information. A bathroom with a wide door, but one I probably didn’t use. A large, plate glass window that looked out on a cloudless winter sky. I did a double take. The curtains were closed, and yet, I saw behind them, a gray of both building and sky, a reflection of winter sun that seemed bright, almost too bright. But what did it matter if the light came in? My eyes weren’t open.

As if Charlie knew my thoughts, he got up from the bed, opened the curtains, and then curled up again next to the man in the bed. As he settled in, the sleeve of my gown lifted. Charlie grabbed my forearm and traced his fingers over it. Tears fell onto my skin, the bed, Charlie, the floor. A trickle, then a stream, then a tidal wave coursed up the walls, reaching the top of my mattress, my head, covering my form. My body did nothing, but I pushed against the force, and I was snapped back into my skin. Cracks spread from my toes to my knees to my middle to my neck to my face. Deafening silence and darkness once again.

Then, cutting through the muted world, a voice so sweet and clear once again, Charlie’s.

“Dad.” He whispered into my ear. “It’s me, Charlie. In case you didn’t recognize my voice. You can’t see me right now. Or maybe you can. I want to tell you I love you.”

More tears began to drop onto the sheets, and Charlie pushed his head against my chest, much like he did when he was little. I tried to remember the days when I was at home with him, playing ball or listening to his Minecraft stories. I’d always told Charlie to concentrate on something else when he was upset. Would he do that now? If I willed him to envision his friends or Big Nate or Walloon Lake or summer camp, would those thoughts help him get through this? Would it help me? A flicker of Charlie’s face. His body. Me as a young kid.

“Okay, Dad, I’m ready.” Charlie lifted his head again and looked at me. Everyone said he and I were two peas in a pod. Would he look like me when he got older too? I touched his cheek with my ghostly fingers and moved them toward his chin, just as Charlie did the same to me.

“I like feeling the prick of your stubble against my fingertips, Dad. It means you’re still alive.” Charlie swallowed and sniffed and then continued. “This is going to sound weird, but Mom said you might be hanging on for something. She didn’t tell me, but I heard her say it to the nurse. I’m not sure, but are you waiting for me to say it’s okay to go? Because it is okay.”

Go? Go Where? I reached for him again, my fingers still moving through his flickering image. A thud sounded in my ears, covering the words that came next. I pulled back and watched again as Charlie lay his head against the chest of the man—me—in the hospital bed. Tears ran from his eyes, landed on my blanket.

A snippet: “...you’re tired...”

Another: “I miss you...”

He began to fade then, first his fingers, then his arm, his shoulder, trunk, and down his legs, crumbling to dust and floating away, into a haze hanging before me. Another tightness gripped my chest, making me gasp for air that didn’t exist.

And then, from out of the haze, his voice one more time: “No matter what, Dad, you’ll always be my hero.”

 

Chapter 36: Sadie

 

The shrill beep of my cell phone reverberated against the tile of the kitchen counter and interrupted my morning bowl of toasted oats.

“Sadie?” Doc’s familiar voice said. “We need you at the hospital.”

My heart thudded in my chest. “What’s wrong?” I was finishing breakfast, with plans to head over in a few hours to say my final goodbye.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Theo woke up.”

I stumbled from my seat, ran up the stairs to Charlie’s room, and gently laid a hand on his arm. He’d only been in a light sleep, for with a few taps of my fingernails against his skin, he blinked his eyes several times.

“I need you to hold down the fort until Brooke arrives.” Confusion crossed Charlie’s face, and I explained about the phone call. “I don’t have any details.” Whispering against his forehead in a rush of excitement, I then placed a kiss there. “But I promise to call as soon as possible.”

.    .    .    .    .

At the moment I left the hospital elevator and entered the hallway leading to Theo’s room, an overwhelming surge of love for Theo coursed through me. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached his door, both fear and longing warring