Donovan King is the impossible. He's the kind of boy that runs with the lions in the daytime and howls with the wolves at night. He's a god in a place where gods dare not roam, with wings of chipped gold and sterling silver.
He's the king of his ver...
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XI
d o n o v a n
STRUMMING THE GUITAR WITH MY right hand, I went over the song ten-times fold, all the blood, sweat and tears soaking through my palms and splattering on the lined paper like ink.
I spent a month going over it, practicing everyday bit by bit. I never told anyone, mostly because there was no one I could tell. It was a secret, one I had no intention of spilling.
My vocal cords vibrated together in a repetitive rhythm, beating fast then beating slow, allowing me to reach the highest and lowest of notes. I wasn't the best, but I wasn't the worst. My singing was enough to lull a little girl to sleep, and for me that was enough.
I opened up my diaphragm and breathed out the words, feeling them roll off my tongue and into the air.
When I was sure that I was completely prepared and ready to face her again, I took my guitar with me and strolled out of the house.
My nerves made it hard for me to drive straight, which was a safety hazard in itself. I was suddenly grateful that I was on my way to the hospital; if I ever got into an accident it shouldn't be far to get there.
Just in case, I placed both hands on the wheel and squeezed.
When I got there, I parked the car carefully at the front and slung my guitar over my shoulder. A thick brush dipped in anxiety painted my cheeks red, but I knew so long as I rehearsed, I'd be fine.
The receptionist at the desk wasn't surprised to see me when I approached the main office, giving me a polite smile that made the amount of lines on her face double. "Good afternoon, Steven," she greeted, like she usually did.
"Hello Ruth." It didn't hurt to be so polite, though I wasn't used to not using slang.
She grabbed a name tag, wrote "STEVE" in capital letters, peeled it off and gave it to me. "Here to see Rain again?" she asked, but I knew she knew the answer.
"Couldn't help myself."
To her, I was that little girl's big brother, but both Rain and I knew that that wasn't true. It took a lot of hard work to convince Ruth to let me see Rain, so much hard work that we eventually had to lie about it.
But lying with a little girl who's concepts and reasoning were beyond me was worth it. Ruth couldn't just deny a little girl the right to see her big brother, that simply wasn't fair.
I walked down the hallway past Ruth's desk and turned right. It was the last door on my left side, room 107.
Knocking on it, one of the nurses opened the door and seemed so flustered to see me, the plastic mask over her mouth wasn't enough to hide her expression.
Her eyes shot out of existence. "Who might you be?" she asked.
"Steven, Rain's brother."
I began to question the hospital's security as the nurse gladly let me inside, not questioning once whether we were really related or not. But as soon as I saw the little girl laying in the bed, I'd quickly forgotten about it.
Thank goodness the nurse had left us alone in the room. Rain's little arms flew out from under the hospital blanket as she yelled, "Donovan! You're here!"
"Hey Squirt." I took a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. "How're you feeling?"
A light shade of pink was seeping into her face like watercolour paint. She was a lot less pale than last time, which made my heart skip a beat.
She adjusted the tube under her nose. "A bit better. Camilla says I've been making progress, whatever that means."
I smiled. "It means you're okay." Leaning down and kissing her on the forehead, I ignored how cold her skin felt beneath my lips.
She was a strong girl, the strongest girl I've ever met. I had to believe she was going to make it through this. I had to put away all little doubt I had that she wouldn't.
"How's the weather down there?" I pointed to her lungs and she let out a groggy sigh.
"Foggy."
"Sad?"
"No, just foggy."
That was code for okay, sad was code for rainy, and rainy meant her lungs had filled up with water while I was away, and she was suffering the after effects of pulmonary edema.
Occasionally, her lungs would fill up with fluid on the days I wasn't there. Those were the darkest hours for her.
"How's the hair?"
Her head was wrapped in a thin bleached towel, a beautiful head-peace complimenting her snow-white skin. She wasn't afraid to show me what was hidden underneath; a head three-fourths bald, with patches of platinum hair gathered in clumps and scattered in odd angles.
"I look ugly," she groaned. "I wish I was a princess."
"You are a princess." I lifted her chin up with my finger. "A beautiful one."
The sound of her giggles filled the room, sending rainbows bouncing off all the walls.
"And every princess should have an anthem," I offered, bringing the guitar in front of me. No doubt I saw her eyeing it earlier.
She coughed, her lungs fighting for air. "What're you playing this time?"
"Something you haven't heard before."
Her eyes lit like candles when I strummed the first cord, and for a moment she'd forgotten she was in a hospital, that poisonous flowers grew and blossomed in her lungs.
The pale blue of the walls bled into the colours of the ocean. The ceiling danced as she laughed and smiled, and I sat there singing and playing like it was all I've ever known, because when I was with Rain there was no other way I could feel.
Besides alcohol, she made me feel like my life wasn't just filled with money and a sore lack of love. But I didn't use her like I used alcohol, she'd never hurt me like it did.
I spent my time with her and valued every single moment I had sitting by her side, hoping it wasn't going to be the last. I sang her songs, I played games with her, I told her stories and and read her books and drew pictures of what her life was going to look like once she tore through the walls separating her from the world.
I don't know why I never told anyone. It was something I kept to myself, something that was too special to share.
All I wanted to do was keep her safe, because maybe if I loved for the both of us, then she wouldn't have to fight the world alone.
