Unbreakable

Canon

I notch my Stradivarius onto my shoulder.

"Ready?" Grace asks.

"Yeah."

She starts first, the slow notes streaming from her bow as she plays. Eight notes, and then I join in. We love this piece, we always have, since Dad played it for us when we were little. Pachelbel's Canon is a peaceful song, a happily-ever-after melody, the kind of song that plays at the happy ending of a movie. It makes me feel safe, like nothing can go wrong. When Grace and I play it together, it seems as if there is no one else in the world; only Grace and I. Me and Grace.

We're reaching the height of the piece, where the notes are loudest and quickest, when the room spins. I miss a note and stop. All of a sudden, I feel sick.

"Haley? You okay?" Grace stops too and cranes her neck around, trying to see my face. We've never seen each other face-to-face. We've been back-to-back our whole lives, joined at the lower spine. I've never seen my sister's whole face at once.

I try to regain my composure. What's wrong with me?

I swallow and take a deep breath. "I'm...fine. The bow slipped. I'm probably a bit tired."

"We can stop, if you'd like," Grace offers. She's always been the motherly one, the one who worried for both of us, the one who fixed things and made everything better.

"No," I say. "I want to finish the song."

"Well, if you're sure."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Grace's concerned look. For once, I'm glad she can't see my face properly.

We start again, picking up where we left off. I've barely made it through three bars when I hear my violin drop with a clatter of wood against marble. Everything goes black and I fall, pulling Grace down with me.

I drift in and out of consciousness, hearing Grace's distressed voice, Mom's sobbing and the hushed whispers of doctors. When I come to, I'm in an unfamiliar bed, with Grace at my side as always. Mom clutches me, tears of relief streaming down her cheeks.

Cardiomyopathy. It's the flu, Dr Evans says. The flu that Grace and I caught two months ago. That's what set it off. Grace's heart is weak, and my own is working harder, pumping for the two of us. They would have to-

"No," I say firmly. "That's not an option."

Grace is crying now. I can hear her sniffles from behind me. I try to shift around to see as much of her face as I can. It's my turn to comfort her now, like she's done so many times before.

"They're not breaking us apart. Grace, listen to me. It's not your fault."

All our lives, we've been asked over and over again, what it's like to be connected to each other. How we cope with never really having our bodies to ourselves, always having to share everything and never having privacy.

It isn't easy. I would never say that it is. But I've never known any other way of life. Grace and I are unbreakable. Nothing and no one can ever pull us apart. What is it they say in marriage vows? 'Till death do us part'. Nothing, not even a threat to my life, will ever part my sister and I.

"Grace, if you go, I'll go with you." I reach behind me for Grace's hand and hold it tight.

"I'll kill you. I am killing you," she chokes out, tears dripping onto her white hospital blanket.

"You aren't. You won't. It's my choice to stay with you."

I turn to Dr Evans.

"I'm sorry. You must understand."

"Please, Miss Lewis, you can't support both your sister and yourself. If the surgery is done, you could still live."

"Without my sister? This isn't survival of the fittest. It's not ecology or whatever it is anymore. This is cruel. My sister will not die alone."

He can't say anything. He nods to our parents, who have been listening in silence, and leaves the room.

It's our choice, our parents say. Whatever it is, they will support us.

We can't be broken. We're not like Lego blocks, separated easily with a flick of the wrist. There is a bond here, physical and emotional, that cannot be torn away.

And, weeks later, before we close our eyes for what we know is the last time, Dad brings in his violin.

And it is Pachelbel's Canon that stills my fears and calms me. I can hear the heart monitor beeping near us. As Dad plays the last note of the song, I turn to Grace.

"See you on the other side."