Around the World
I looked around me at the bright white daisies littering the field I was standing in. The sun was shining and warming my curly hair. I took a deep and satisfying breath and smiled. This scene was almost dreamlike; too perfect to be real. But it had to be. It had to be.
"I promise," I heard in the distance.
"I promise, Bryarly."
Where was that coming from? It was almost as if it were inside my head, quiet and far away.
"I'll make your wish come true. I promise."
Now I could hear Voice crying. Why are you crying? Who are you, Voice? Who am I?
My eyes fluttered open. I didn't see white daisies. I saw the ugly white walls of my hospital room. Instead of sunshine, an ugly green light flashed on the monstrous machine next to my bed. I reached up to touch my hair. Oh. So that was a lie, too.
I looked around for Raina, whom I assumed was Voice. She was my best friend of five years, my platonic soulmate. She had hardly left my side since the ambulance had brought me back to this place for the dead and dying last week. Surprisingly, she was absent. I whimpered like the baby I had become and tried to reach my phone. It was just out of my reach, so I hit my call button, the next best thing.
"What's wrong, honey?" Gloria said as she came into the room, her Spongebob scrubs swishing as she walked.
I smiled weakly. Gloria had been my nurse since I was diagnosed a year ago. Next to Raina, she was my favorite person in the universe. I raised my heavy arm and pointed to my phone. She handed it to me and stroked my non-existent hair. I closed my eyes and let her be the mom I didn't have.
"Not a good day, dear?" she asked softly, a hint of sadness in her voice.
I shook my head and wrapped my arms around her waist.
"I had a dream. I was healthy. There were pretty flowers. And my head didn't look like a shiny ping pong ball. I was pretty."
"Love, you are pretty. Even hooked up to all this nonsense."
A small tear slid down my cheek. I knew she loved me and was trying to help, but it's hard to believe you're attractive when you look like death. Literally.
"I want Raina. Where's Raina?" I asked, my voice cracking as more tears freed themselves from my eyes.
"She left yesterday, Bryarly. She told me to tell you it was important and she'd be back soon."
Yesterday? My God, how long had I been out?
I knew Raina would come back, but for some reason I couldn't stop crying. My sobs ripped apart my weak lungs as the tube in my nose struggled to inflate them again. Gloria pulled me to her chest and let me do my thing, running her fingers in slow circles up and down my spine.
I must have fallen asleep again because the next thing I knew, I was being gently prodded awake.
"Bry? Bry, sweetie, I'm back," Raina said softly.
I begrudgingly opened my eyes and looked around. Other than the bright lights of London shining through the window, it was dark. Raina flipped on the lamp and smiled at me.
"You left," I said flatly.
Her smile vanished. I was instantly sorry.
"I know, babe. But I think I got you something that'll get me off the hook. It took a lot of work and hundreds of phone calls, but I got it."
There was uncontrollable excitement in her voice as she bounced up and down in one of the baby-poop-brown hospital armchairs.
"Oh really?" I asked. "Is it a wig? A new liver, maybe?"
She stopped bouncing. God, what was my problem tonight?
She shook off my attitude and went into the hall.
"You can come in now," I heard her say. "But be careful. She's in a mood," she added loudly. I smiled.
I heard footsteps coming closer and became curious in spite of myself. Seconds later, a tall and gorgeous figure waltzed into my room. I screamed.
Well, as close to screaming as a dying cancer patient could get. I mean, it's not every day your best friend presents you with Harry freaking Styles. He smiled and waited for me to regain composure, my lungs screaming just like I had.
Harry Styles. Harry Styles is in my room. Oh my God, Harry Styles. I don't have a bra on! No makeup!
And then out of habit, my hands flew to my head.
He stopped smiling and walked over to my bed. I was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, my palms spread across my cold scalp. His hands reached for mine and pulled them away, exposing my most hated feature.
"You know something? You have really pretty eyes."
Harry stayed for hours, even after Raina had fallen asleep in the chair. We talked about music. Movies. What it was like to travel the world. What we didn't talk about was cancer. God, it was refreshing.
"I've always wanted to travel the world," I said quietly. "But dying isn't exactly an all-expense paid activity. Plus, I'm not sure an oxygen tank would be a convenient carry-on bag."
He laughed. I smiled. Even his laugh was perfect.
"Tell you what, Bryarly Adams. You get all better and I promise you, I will take you with me on tour. You'll see the world if I have anything to say about it."
We talked until the sun started peeking into the room. When I finally admitted I was tired, he kissed me softly on the cheek and said goodbye. Going to sleep this time was unfortunate, for finally, reality was better than my dreams.
Harry came to see me as often as he could over the next year. I was in and out of the hospital constantly, so there were a few coffee dates thrown in. When he was busy or on tour, he would text me non-stop or Skype me so he could see "my stunning eyes." He said they were so many shades at once that he felt he would be at a loss if someone asked him to describe them. One night in late September, he called me from New York.
"Hey, Magic Eyes," he cooed in that ever-so-lovely deep voice.
"Hey, Curly Top."
"How are you today? Is this a good day?" He was anxious for me to get well so he could fulfill his promise.
"Great!" I lied with forced enthusiasm.
What he didn't know was that I was back in the hospital. Earlier, my doctor had informed me that the chemo poisons they pumped me full of were no longer working and I was unlikely to live long enough to receive a liver transplant, despite the fact that I was at the top of the list. The battle was lost. I was going to die. When? I didn't know. Harry would be home in a week. I urged my body to hang on until then. It didn't.
"H-Harry? You-you need to c-come home now," Raina sobbed into her phone.
I slipped in and out of consciousness as she urged my "boyfriend" to drop everything and fly back to watch me die. I knew he would. I didn't want him to, but he would. So it was no surprise when he ran into my room the next day and sighed with relief as he noticed I wasn't covered by a white sheet.
I smiled weakly and held up my hand. He took it and knelt down so he was at eye-level.
"You can't die yet. I haven't shown you the world," he said, as if telling me to live would change the outcome.
"Curly Top, there's nothing they can do. I'm going."
"Wait. I haven't shown you the world."
He then pulled out his phone and began playing a video. It was him in various places talking to the camera.
"Hey, Magic Eyes. Today we're in Rome. Beautiful, isn't it? Just like you."
"This morning, Magic Eyes, we are in Paris. Come join me on top of the Eiffel Tower."
"How about Broadway today, Magic Eyes? Or would you prefer the Empire State Building? You're right. Let's do both!"
More and more tears streamed down my cheeks as Harry took me around the world. Toronto. Sydney. Los Angeles. The video ended with all five of the boys waving and telling me I was brave. I smiled like an idiot as violent sobs shook my frail body. He placed his phone back into his pocket and squeezed my hand. When I was done, he called Raina and Gloria into the room. They gathered around me, looking tired and broken. Harry, with Gloria's permission, crawled into bed with me and wrapped me in his strong arms.
"Alright, love," he whispered. "It's okay. We're here. You can let go."
"Thank you, Curly Top. I…I love you," I said into his chest.
"I love you more, Magic Eyes."
I slowly slipped away to the sound of his breathing. Soon I saw daisies again. My pretty, pretty white daisies.
"That was six years ago," I said to the reporter that was sitting on the couch in the lounge.
"That's quite a story," she said as she wiped her mascara-streaked eyes with a tissue.
"Yes it is. It was a complete miracle. Somehow, I made it through the night and the next day I managed to acquire a new liver. The rest is history."
I ran my fingers across the framed picture of me and Harry at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He had decided that his healthy girl should actually see the places in his video. As soon as I was released from the hospital, I had joined him on the band's next world tour.
"What about Raina and Gloria?" the woman asked between sniffles.
"Gloria still works at the hospital. I visit her all the time. Raina lives next door. I see her so much that sometimes I get tired of looking at her face," I said with a laugh.
The reporter smiled.
"I'm going to get you! Hahaha!"
Harry came into the room on all fours, chasing after our two-year-old, Darcy. I laughed as she made her way over to me and I bent down to pick her up. Harry stood up and brushed his curls out of his face.
"Forgive my wife. She just lets our child run wild. I don't know what to do with her."
I rolled my eyes and turned back to our guest, Darcy wiggling like a worm in my arms.
"Is that everything you needed, Ms. Bishop?"
"I think so," she said happily as she stood up and straightened her skirt. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Styles. Really. I've never heard a better love story."
"You're more than welcome. Thank you for asking and listening."
We shook hands at the door and she left, her car rumbling down the street.
I set Darcy in her playpen and felt Harry's hands around my waist. I turned to face him and wrapped my arms around his neck.
"You know something?" he said, twisting one of my dark red curls around his finger.
"Hmm?"
"You have really pretty eyes."