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The light in her eyes reignites. “Okay, let me get ready.” She hurries off into her room to get changed.
While she’s getting changed, I look around at the Jones’ mostly bare lounge room. The furnishings are all a sleek modern black. A black couch, black coffee table, black shelves. The walls and tiles are all a stark white. I would expect nothing less from an apartment in the middle of Calveron.
But there are different touches that let me know that this house is a home with a family in it. On the black shelves, there is a small line of digital photos, displaying their family. First there is a photo of Travis and Holly, looking happy together at what I’m assuming is their wedding. There’s a photo of Hugo when he is first born. I smirk at the thought of him being so small and helpless. He definitely grew out of that stage quickly. A few photos down, there is another photo of Luna when she was born. Travis, Holly, and little six-year-old Hugo are all looking down and smiling at her.
I wonder how a family as perfect looking as theirs can be so broken inside. A son who hates his father and is strictly obedient to Albert Cunningham alone, a wife who has been in and out of hospital for as long as she can remember, a once hopeful daughter who wants nothing more than to run away from everything she’s ever known, a father who would risk the lives of his family to save a young girl he barely knows.
I always knew that life was never as pictures portrayed them, but I never really realised how twisted the idea of photographs were till staring at this one, knowing that it portrays such a fake reality.
People take pictures, save them as memories, and hang them on their walls in the hope that the good memories will outlive the bad ones. A beautifully tragic idea really.
I look around the rest of the room and on the kitchen bench, I see a small vase of roses. The vibrancy of the colour draws me to them. When I am close enough to them to touch, I realise that they are made out of paper. They are so delicate and beautiful that I know Luna would be the only one in this household with the patience and grace to make them. My heart breaks at the thought of Luna sitting up, making them herself and placing them carefully in her vase, dreaming that they were real. Wishing and hoping that one day she might be able to see flowers for herself.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” I hear Luna say behind me, and I turn around to find that she has changed into a casual pair of jeans and a black shirt. Over her arms she has a white button-down shirt that looks way too big for either of us. “Here,” she says as she gives it to me.
I take it, “Is this Hugo’s?” I laugh, but her face is completely serious. “Did you give me Hugo’s shirt?” I repeat.
“I always told myself that when I left, that I would take something from him. Like he took my childhood from me.” Her eyes glaze over, and it takes a moment for her to refocus and continue, “He loves his collection of shirts, and I thought it would be too obvious if I wore it, but you…”
I frown. There is no way I’m wearing his shirt. “Please,” she begs.
“Fine,” I say. “But just so you know you are getting this back as soon as we get back to my room, okay?”
“So, we’re really leaving then?” She asks, her face a mixture of excitement and nervousness. I understand her face completely because it is exactly what is going on inside my mind.
“Only if you want to, Lu. If you don’t want to go through with this-”
“No, Em. I have to do this. I have to experience life for myself.”
“Okay, let’s head to my room then.” I start to walk out the door, but she calls me back. She is looking around her house, the place she grew up. I can’t even begin to imagine how scared she must feel right now, leaving everything she’s ever known for the hope of a future that might be better. And that hope is all riding on me succeeding to get her out of here.
“Is it alright if we stop past the med ward on the way to your room? I need to say goodbye to Mum.” she whispers hesitantly, as if she believes that I’m going to say no. But how could I deny her the right to say goodbye to her own mother? I’m not that cruel.
“Of course,” I answer, and together we leave her house, with all of Luna’s past, family, and undying roses behind her.
Chapter 34 - Emerson Clarke
When we arrive at the medical ward, Luna doesn’t even need to sign in. She just walks straight past the reception desk and down the corridor. I guess that’s what happens when your mum is in hospital so often, it becomes your second home.
I continue to follow her down the corridor. She turns into a room on the left and I hesitate, unsure of whether I should follow her, or stay outside and let her have her privacy. I decide to stand outside until she notices me standing by the door and waves me in.
When I walk inside, it’s clear to see that Luna has spent a lot of time here. The room is filled with sketches and every empty space is littered with small origami roses. I marvel at the question of how she was even able to come in possession with so much paper. I thought Jasper having a sketchbook was considered rare, but if that was the case, this room would be a minefield of gold.
I draw my eyes away from the beautiful room and look towards the hospital bed where Holly Jones lays. I let out a reluctant gasp when I see her. Her body is thinner than I thought possible, and her skin looks as flimsy as the paper scattered throughout the room. Under different circumstances, I would say that she could be beautiful, with the same caramel hair as Luna’s and strong features. But here, she just looks small. Defeated.
How can Luna even come here and bare to see her mother looking so weak? I idolised my mother; I thought she was some invincible superhuman. But you can’t idolise someone who spends every day lying in a hospital bed.
“Mrs. Jones,” I say, walking over to her and putting my hand softly in hers, “Emerson Clarke. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I see the tubes coming out of her nose and the machine next to her that seems to be taking breaths at the same time she does. I realise that she is clearly in a lot worse of a condition than I imagined. If my guesses are correct, the only thing keeping her breathing right now is the machine.
“Emerson,” she croaks and gives my hand a faint squeeze, “thank you.”
I turn to Luna confused. What is she thanking me for? Luna gives me a look that tells me everything. Mrs. Jones knows about what we are about to do. She is thanking me for giving her daughter a chance at life. “Your daughter is growing to be a beautiful woman.”
“She is, isn’t she?” Mrs. Jones looks at Luna with a look so full of love that all the languages in the world could never describe. It is the look when a mother looks at a daughter, as if they are the most perfect being in the entire world, and they know that every mistake they have ever made or will ever make will never even come close to changing the amount of love that they feel. “You will take care of her?” she whispers, so quietly that I’m sure Luna wouldn’t be able to hear.
“With all my strength, I promise to take care of her.” She gives my hand another squeeze and I give a small smile to Luna before stepping outside and letting them have their last moment together.
