This is My Wish

Chapter Twenty-Six – Words to Say

Riley

The next few days pass by in a blur. I don't remember how I got home that day. The only thing I remember is waking up the next morning between my parents on their bed, and wrapping my arms around Mom as I whisper that I loved her, thankful that she was still with me.

The funeral is today. I'm not sure, but everything seems to be going good. I know that I have to be here for Mom and Brittney's parents. Jessica— she asked me to call her that yesterday— is a mess. I can't help but think that Mom will probably be just as upset at my funeral. I shouldn't be thinking like this— we have time, not much, but we do. I have to remember that.

No one expects me to want to say anything at the funeral, but who better than her best friend? Mom and Edward are nervous. They're probably thinking that I can't do this. But I can and I will. There are just some words I have to say.

Mom smiles at me as I walk up to the front, but it's not the one that meets her eyes. It's the smile that tells me she's proud of me but a little scared, too. Edward's sitting beside her, his arm is across her shoulder as he whispers something to her. He's dressed like I am, in a suit. I didn't have a suit until yesterday, when Edward called in a favor for me. After wearing it for the last hour, I can see why he always tugs at his sleeves and tie when he wears one.

I clear my throat and look at everyone that came to say goodbye to Brittney. There are a lot of adults, but some kids, too. They're friends Brittney and I made in the support group Mom organized a couple of years ago. They smile at me, offering waves, letting me know that they're here for me as much as for Brittney.

I grab the remote on the podium and step onto the box Edward had left for me so that I'm tall enough to see over it.

"Hello, everyone," I say as clearly as possible. My palms are sweating a little, but I ignore it. "My name is Riley, and I'm Brittney's best friend." I turn toward the big screen beside me, pointing the remote to the projector unit nearby. "We met a little over four years ago." On the screen was a picture of Brittney and me; she has a big, nearly toothless smile, while I look upset. There are several laughs, likely because of the scowl on my face. At this point, she had told me I had to play with her.

"As you can see, we became instant friends."

More laughs. And that's what is important to me. Brittney would want for all these people to remember her as the blue-eyed little girl with blond curls and not for the cancer that took her from us.

"We shared a room," I say softly, again looking at the screen. "Along with a few other of her friends." I went through four other pictures of Brittney's "friends," several dolls and stuffed animals, who we'd put in the empty beds after the tea party she made me join. The week we had met, we were the only ones in the cancer ward at the hospital. We weren't alone for long, though.

"We did a lot together," I say, this time with a small smile. "Like hide from the nurses." There's a picture of the nurse we had named "Miss Crabs" on the screen with her hands on her hips. At the time, Brittney's mom had bought her a camera so she'd have something to do for the hour or so that she left to run errands. She would take the dumbest pictures, all crooked but they were perfect to her, and me, too.

"She was there for me in ways no one else could be," I whispered, thankful for the microphone. I change it to the slide of her sitting beside me on the bed, holding my hand as someone took some blood. You couldn't see her face, because she took the picture, but you can see her hand tightly holding mine as I looked away from the blood.

"I always thought her smile, whether she was sick or healthy, lit up a room. Even when she was scared, she never let her cancer bring her down completely. She always straight out asked for what she wanted, no matter what it was." I shake my head and smile, this time looking at Edward. "I finally understand the saying 'wrapped around her finger.' She had everyone she met like that. They'd do anything for her. Like love her through the ups and downs, hold her hand, drink fake tea from cups with your pinkie in the air, make her a big sister, or share a first kiss." I try to hide my face a little as it heats up. I look up enough to see my mom smiling gently, trying not to laugh. She's doing so good.

"We spent our first Christmas together in that hospital." This time it was a picture of us in matching Santa hats on our bald heads. "And we've spent every Christmas together since then." I wipe at a tear that slips down my cheek, refusing to look at anyone. I'm afraid if I do, I'll never finish.

I'm very thankful that Mom had helped me come up with my speech. My hand comes up to my mouth, clearing my throat to stop from crying. "We may not be able to do these things anymore, but I know she'll still be there for Christmas, watching over us."

The last picture is of us from Christmas last year; this time I'm in an elf hat and she's wearing a halo on top of short, dark blond curls.

"As our Christmas Angel."

~oOo~

I fell asleep in Mom's arms in the backseat of the car as Edward drove us to Brittney's house. I'm really tired and want to go home, but I need to do something first.

After about an hour of faking smiles for people that don't know me, and Mom nearly forcing me to eat something, I go up the stairs. It's the same ones that Brittney and me mattress-surfed with her dad. I used to think her giggle was stupid when we were smaller, but right now, I'd give anything to hear it again.

I stand outside her bedroom door for a few minutes, unable to move. I feel him stand behind me before he put his hands on my shoulders. "She wanted you have something," her dad whispers. "It's on her desk. It's something so that you won't forget her."

I sniff and wipe my nose with the tissue in my hand. "I won't. Not ever." I turn to look up at him. His eyes look so much like Brittney's and Jasper's, the brother he lost. "I think you should know, I'll take good care of her when it's my turn to go."

His eyes close but he nods. "Take your time," he offers with one small squeeze of his hands.

I nod and watch him go down the stairs. Through the railing, I can see a lot of people, some whispering and laughing, talking as if it's any other day. I'm not sure I like these things after funerals. I don't understand them and hope my parents don't do anything like this after I'm gone.

A man moves to the side, enough for me to see my parents talking to someone, they both look upset. Then I realize who they're talking to – my doctor.

I think time has officially run out. But now isn't the time to think about it.

I shake my head and turn back to Brittney's door. Shakily, I turn the knob and all I can smell is her when I step inside. To me, the smell was too girly, but now I know it's like her, sweet and soft.

There's not a lot of pink, but there is some purple and blue in the room. I walk over to the desk and find a notebook; "Letters to Riley" written on it in big letters. I grab it but don't read. I'm not ready for that. Maybe tomorrow or when I need to know she's here with me.

I sit on her bed, and for several minutes, I'm back, remembering when I would sleep on the floor like I'd done many times. It isn't until I hear a soft knock on the door that the memories disappear, along with that giggle that used to make me roll my eyes at her.

"Hey, buddy." It's Edward and I can see from the look in his eyes, he's not going to say anything about what happened downstairs. That's okay, though; it wasn't the time to talk and think about it.

"Hi," I mumble, wiping at my eyes harder. Not that he'd make fun of me or anything.

"Your mom is ready when you are," he says, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner. It's the same chair that broke my toe once, because Brittney was mad at me and smashed my foot when I tried to get her talk to me again. She was mad at me a lot, but she always forgave me.

I want to be mad at her. I feel bad for that, makes me feel stupid and like I'm being a baby. I can't be mad at her, never could for long. Why should it be any different now?

"One more minute," I say. Edward nods and doesn't say anything, and lets the silence take over. After a while, I say something I've been thinking about. I need to know that her death didn't change the future.

"I hope that just because she's gone," I say, clearing my throat, suddenly thirsty. "That we don't cancel the plans next week."

"No. I don't think Brittney would want that. And neither do I," he whispers, watching me closely. I think he's worrying about my reaction, but he said exactly what I wanted to hear.

I grin because he's right. She wouldn't, she'd want life to go on, and so by this time next week, Mom and Edward will be married.