They Granted Her 100 Wishes And Forgot I Was Dying Too novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: The Reading

At breakfast Deborah reads Seren's chart aloud before the clerk, and Seren finds an opened Bureau letter dated March.

The guest room had a quilt on the bed and a cup of cold tea on the windowsill.

I counted six more on my way down the stairs, one on every sill, all of them full.

At seven o'clock the kitchen was warm and smelled of coffee.

My father stood at the stove making eggs, and Cora sat at the table with her knees pulled up on the chair.

Above her head the number said 99.

Tiernan Rhodes sat at the end with his tablet and a pen, and he nodded to me once.

"Seren, sit," my mother said, and put a plate in front of me. "Did you sleep? Was the quilt warm enough?"

"It was fine."

"Good. Eat."

She sat down across from me and folded her hands.

"Now," I said. "My wish."

"Of course." She smiled at Tiernan. "Right after breakfast, I thought. Tiernan, do you take cream?"

"It's seven o'clock," Tiernan said. "That's what the form says."

My mother's smile stayed where it was.

"The thing is, I can't find your folder, sweetheart. I looked everywhere this morning. It must have fallen out on the lawn."

I looked at the handbag hanging on the back of her chair.

She looked at me.

"I have the sheet," Tiernan said. He turned the tablet around and slid it down the table. "The Bureau's copy. It's the same text."

My mother took it.

She read the first line to herself, and her face changed.

"Out loud, please," I said. "That's the wish."

"Seren, honey, we're at the table."

"That's why it's the wish."

My father put his spatula down.

My mother cleared her throat.

"Patient, Seren Fairclough, age twenty. Heart muscle failing. Does not respond to treatment on this side." Her voice caught on the last word. "Estimated time, about one hundred days."

Nobody ate.

"That's all of it," I said. "Thank you."

"Oh, baby."

My mother was crying again, quickly and neatly, and she reached across the table for my hand.

I let her hold it.

"We'll find you the best man in Boston," my father said. He sounded hoarse. "As soon as this is over, kiddo. I promise."

"As soon as what is over?"

"Cora's hundred," he said. "The ceremonies. Her days are so short, and then we'll have all the time in the world."

"Dad. Mine are the same hundred."

It was very quiet in the kitchen.

My mother let go of my hand.

"Daniel," she said, gently.

"I only meant," my father said, and then he sat down and stopped.

"I'll make some calls today," my mother said. "Today. Tiernan, put that down."

"It's logged," Tiernan said. He wrote something on the tablet and didn't look up.

Cora had not touched her egg.

She had been watching my face the whole time, and when I looked at her she dropped her eyes.

"Can I do my wish now?" she asked.

"Sweetheart, it's so early," my mother said.

"It's quick. It's wish two." She sat up. "Nobody throws away the tea I leave on the windowsills. Not ever. Not even if it's cold."

My father laughed, relieved. "That's easy."

"Granted," my mother said, wiping her eyes. "Aren't you silly."

"Wish two," Tiernan said, and wrote it down.

I looked at my sister.

She was already buttering toast, and she didn't look at me.

It was the smallest wish a person could make, and I couldn't tell if she was being sweet or making sure nobody could argue with her about a cup.

When breakfast ended my mother hugged me for a long time.

"This afternoon," she said into my hair. "I promise. I'm calling Boston right now."

She took her handbag and went out to the garden with her phone.

My father went out with her.

Tiernan was packing up his tablet at the table.

"Did she make the call?" I asked.

"I couldn't say. I log wishes."

"You said that last night."

"It's still true."

He stood and tucked the pen into his lanyard, and he glanced once at the number above my sister's head, which had not moved.

Then he said, "The bin by the back door. She cleared the mail into it this morning. Whatever you think of me, I'd read the envelope on top."

I stared at him.

"That's a clerk's advice?"

"It's a neighbor's."

He left through the front door.

I went to the back hall.

The recycling bin was full of catalogues, and the envelope on top had a Bureau of Returns seal and my mother's name.

It had been opened.

The date at the top was March.

Under it, in plain type: Re: the Returning daughter, Seren. Per the Other Side's final examination, a serious cardiac condition has been recorded. The Bureau advises the household to prepare.

In March.

Five months ago.

My mother had read my chart out loud in the kitchen, and she had cried while she read it.

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