Fireflies Glow Only in the Dark

by Ruth Morse

  “Nice to meet you.” Lily gave me a polite smile, stretching out her hand.

  I hurried to shake it. “Max has told me a lot about you,” I said, my left hand reaching for my backpack. “We brought you a little present. I assume toys are normally too boring for you, but this lobster is really special. His name is Leonardo.”

  Lily’s eyes lit up. She took Leo from my hands with great care. “Red lobster!” She laughed, bringing him to her face. Leo’s antennas tickled her cheek. She giggled and pressed him against her chest tightly. “Was he yours?” she asked me.

  “For ten years,” I replied, smiling.

  Lily nodded. “Well, Leonardo… I’ll call you Leo.” She lifted him up in her outstretched hands and continued in a solemn tone, “I promise to be a good friend for you and to never ever let you down.”

  Then she turned her head to Max and motioned for him to come closer. He bent over and her thin hands rolled up his right shirt sleeve. Lily’s eyes widened. She smiled happily, passing her fingers over his bracelet.

  “It still looks good,” she said.

  She fumbled in the single pocket of her jumpsuit and pulled out some colorful tangled ball. With a serious look on her face, she unhurriedly twirled it in her hands until the exact same bracelet like Max wore on his wrist appeared in the open palm of her hand.

  “One morning I was brushing my teeth and it just untied,” she started to explain, stretching her hand out to Max. “I kept it so you could tie it again. That is the rule: only a friend can tie the friendship bracelet, otherwise the friendship will be lost forever.”

  Max nodded. He took the bracelet from her hand and very slowly, not taking his gaze off it, tied up the bracelet on Lily’s wrist. He double-checked that it was tied well enough and only then did he allow himself to take a sigh of relief.

  “Our friendship is saved now,” he said triumphantly to Lily’s ringing laughter. Jack and I applauded, congratulating them on the heroic rescue.

  We sat down on the sofa together. The smile never left Max’s face. When he looked at Lily, his gaze was imbued with care and love. His cold hand, clasped between mine, was slightly trembling, as if he was too agitated to sit still. I stroked his hand with my thumb, and he turned to me, flashing a grateful, knowing smile.

  Lily blossomed in the rays of Max’s tenderness. She wasn’t frowning anymore. However, her face clouded over once, but the reason for that was sweet—she wouldn’t let Max declare victory in the little competition he was describing.

  “We used to go fishing pretty often,” Max said, his voice full of suspense and his eyes twinkling with delight. “Lily and I would take bets on who’d catch more fish. Of course I’d always win.”

  “Absolutely not!” Lily pursed her lips, shooting Max an indignant glance. “I always had the biggest catch, even bigger than Daddy’s! Don’t believe me? Ask Daddy. He’ll tell you.”

  Without waiting for any questions, Mr. Olsen significantly nodded. Jubilant laughter filled the air, and Lily clapped her hands.

  Max sighed. “Okay, okay,” he said in a defeated voice. “My mistake. But in Hide and Seek I was unbeatable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  Then it was Lily’s turn to take a deep, sad sigh.

  Suddenly the door opened and the same nurse that brought Lily to the visiting room came in. Approaching us, she gave Lily a warm, gentle smile and said quietly, “It’s time for Lily to get her tests.”

  There was no change in Lily’s expression; however, I noticed how the right corner of her lips twitched for a fleeting moment. She raised her shining eyes to Max. “Will you be back?” she whispered.

  Max pulled Lily to his side for an embrace. As they parted, he winked at her and said playfully, “We’ll visit you so often that you’ll get bored of us. I promise, Lily.”

  ***

  We threw ourselves into a small bar near the hospital. Inside, quiet music was playing to no one’s leisure—the bar was empty except for the bartender, a tall, tanned man with flat brown hair reaching his shoulders and a thoughtful smile playing on his lips as he wiped glasses, humming a tune that I’d never heard before. The moment the door closed behind us, he raised his head and stared at us. The smile vanished from his face. Without saying a word, he left the counter, approached Jack, and gave him a long, firm embrace. Then he nodded to Max and me, his lips still tightly pressed to each other, and hurried to get to the entrance door. The sign that welcomed visitors with a cheerful yellow open on the green background flipped, now displaying simple black letters stating closed.

  “Thank you, Garry,” Jack said, lowering himself onto a barstool.

  “No problem,” the bartender replied hoarsely. He glanced at Jack and opened his mouth to say something, but then just sighed and shook his head. After a long pause, he finally said, “I’ll leave you guys to it. Drinks are on the house.”

  He poured dark beer into three tall glasses and left to the staff room, closing the door behind him silently. His departure was so swift that I didn’t have time to say anything or even to become surprised by the ease with which he poured the beer into Max’s and my glasses. We were still underage, after all. Noticing my questioning glance, Max shrugged and put my glass in front of me.

  “Poor Garry.” Jack smiled. “He acts like this every time I come here after the hospital.”

  The lighting inside was subdued. I took a small sip of beer; the alcohol immediately hit my head, spreading tiredness over my body in pulsating waves. My stomached ached. I didn’t realize I was that hungry.

  “Any news?” Max asked Mr. Olsen.

  Jack stopped flipping through the menu. He shifted his heavy glance to Max. “Lily was in the ICU,” he said. “They moved her to a regular room a few days ago. They say there’s not much the hospital can do anymore. They say…” Jack winced, clutching the menu so hard that his knuckles turned white. “They say I might reach out to the children’s hospice. Can you imagine? A hospice for children?” He threw his hands up in despair and drank his beer in one gulp.

  I shifted my glance to the dark wood counter. I remembered Lily’s piercing eyes, her pallid cheeks, the funny cat hat on her hairless head. The image of her figure in a black wheelchair. I felt cold. My hands continued to raise the glass to my lips. The beer was disappearing from my glass too quickly.

  Max and Mr. Olsen sat leaning against the counter. They looked like hollow shadows, snatched from the dark and forsaken in the dusk, somewhere between light and complete darkness. I took another sip and put the empty glass on the counter.

  “Jack.” Max placed a comforting hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Forget about the hospice. You’re not alone.”

  Mr. Olsen nodded. “Of course. I’m sorry, Max. You have no idea how happy I am that you came,” he said, shifting his glance to me and giving me a warm smile.

  His hand fumbled in his jeans pocket. He pulled out his wallet, saying, “I should go back to Lily.” He rose from the barstool. “There might be a chance they’ll allow me to see her. You can come tomorrow. They won’t let in anyone but relatives, so…”

  “Sure,” Max said. “We’ll come tomorrow.”

  He stretched out his hand for a handshake, but Jack pulled him into an embrace instead.

  “Can I give you a hug too?” he asked me, smiling.

  I approached him and clung to him like a child clings to their parent, seeking security and care. All I wanted to say was, I’m so sorry, but for some reason I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  Jack chuckled, rather confused. “Well then, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he said, patting me on my shoulder clumsily.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Max leaned over to me. I glanced at him, but all I could see was the blue sapphire of Lily’s eyes. I gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Max asked, touching my hand.

  The dam I was so diligently erecting finally broke down. Tears came to my eyes and I was too weak to stop them. Wet streams flowed down my cheeks, pouring out the feelings I co
uldn’t bear keeping inside me any longer. I buried my face in Max’s shoulder. I didn’t want him to see me like this.

  “All right, let’s get you out of here.” I heard his worried voice. His hands lifted me up gently. I leaned on his shoulder and together we left the bar.

  The day had already turned to night, and the sun disappeared behind the horizon surprisingly quickly.

  People passed by us. Parents held their children’s hands as couples enjoyed cotton candy, their faces lit up with youth and love. At the end of the street, a musician had set up his synth and a small circle of passers-by were gathered around him. We turned down a side street, never merging with all the excitement.

  As soon as we got away from the avenue, we were thrown into complete silence. We came to a small square with a fountain at the center. The square was empty, except for a cat that was lapping up water from the fountain, not paying any attention to us.

  “It’s all right. I’m sorry,” Max whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. He bent over me and tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. I groped for his hand, squeezing it tightly.

  “Are you hungry?” Max asked, perching on the edge of the bench near me.

  “Starving,” I replied, sniffling and smiling shyly.

  “Shit! What an idiot. We passed an Italian cafe that looked very cozy.”

  I nodded. The cat didn’t move when I approached her curled-up body and washed my face in the fountain. My skin ached when I touched it, like I got a sunburn. I took a few deep breaths, looking at the trembling water.

  Max enclosed me in his arms and gave me a gentle kiss. “That’s much better,” he whispered softly.

  ***

  “Are you ready to order?”

  The waiter graced us with a polite smile, getting his pen ready to write. We ordered our food and he swiftly moved away.

  For a long time we remained silent. Max was making some origami figures out of a napkin while I thought about Mel. My parents never reached out to me, but Mel managed to send me tons of messages through all the different messaging apps I had. I dashed off a quick response.

  Max handed me a napkin that he had turned into a bird.

  “Where did you learn how to do that?” I asked, playing with its paper wings. They were so thin that every careless movement of mine threatened to tear them apart.

  “While working as a waiter. They taught us a lot of tricks,” Max replied.

  “Is it a swan?”

  “Almost. It’s a dove.”

  The waiter approached us, placing our dishes on the table. The sweet scent of meat instantly made me gulp.

  “I’ve never seen origami doves,” I said, passing silverware to Max.

  He gave me a thoughtful smile. “Everybody makes either swans or cranes. It’s too easy and way too obvious.”

  I shrugged. “I can’t make either.”

  “And that’s great,” Max said.

  I looked at him questioningly.

  “If you could do everything, how would I be able to surprise you?” Max explained. The half smile that curled his lips was as beautiful as it was tired.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  We went to the hospital in the early morning every day. Max did his best trying to look cheerful. He rejoiced every moment of those rare times when Lily laughed.

  With each new day, she was melting away like a fragile icicle. The doctors kept repeating that anything could happen and they were not in the business of making guesses about her condition.

  In time, Jack managed to come to terms with reality. At least his hands no longer trembled at the sight of his daughter in the wheelchair, nor did he have tears in his eyes when he listened to the doctor.

  As for me, I still hadn’t fully realized what would happen. When my brother died, something flipped in my chest and broke, but the full effect of his death came a long time after. In my thoughts, I understood it so clearly that I wasn’t surprised when my parents started to talk about him in past tense. Yet my soul struggled to believe it. And then I looked at Lily and saw nothing more than a regular kid with beautiful blue eyes and an odd seriousness to her.

  One day, when we came to the visiting room and Jack helped Lily move from the wheelchair to his lap, Max said, “Today is my birthday.”

  His voice sounded so casual, as if he was telling us the weather forecast.

  Mr. Olsen gasped. “And you’re only telling us this now! Twenty-one is something serious indeed!”

  Lily stretched out her hand to Max. He bent forward to hug her but instead she pinched his cheek.

  “Max, you’re a silly boy,” she said in a firm and angry voice, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Why?” he asked, surprised, rubbing the spot she squeezed between her little fingers.

  Lily frowned. “Because I won’t have any more birthdays, and you don’t even celebrate yours!”

  Max froze, dumbfounded. Mr. Olsen rushed to hug his daughter, clinging to her, kissing her forehead and cheeks.

  “Don’t say that, Lily! You’ll have plenty of birthdays, twenty, thirty, a hundred—as many as you want. How could you even say that?” He looked in his daughter’s eyes, trying to pass on to her his reassurance, protect her, show her that his strength was enough to shelter them both. His chin treacherously trembled and tears dripped from his wide open eyes, but he didn’t seem to care.

  “Do you think I’m stupid?” Lily asked. “Do you think I don’t know that I’m dying?”

  Her question sounded calm, indifferent even. Nothing changed in her face, just the blue of her eyes became a shade darker. Lily shifted her penetrating glare to Max, then to me. Blood rushed to my face. I lowered my head, unable to withstand her gaze. Lily nodded and muttered under her breath, “You lie to me. You play with me because I’ll be dying soon. Max, if I wasn’t sick, would you have come? Would you still leave me?”

  Max knelt on the floor in front of her. “We came all that way down here for you, Li,” he whispered fervently. “We wanted to be here because we love you, you hear me?”

  I shivered, hearing a strange sound like a kitten meowing. Lily covered her face with both her hands. “I’m just… scared,” she murmured.

  “It’s okay. We’re here.” Jack took his daughter on his lap and started soothing her, swaying her, stroking her head and shoulders. “I’ll never leave you, my princess.”

  I knew it would be hard. I had time to prepare for the worst and I thought I could handle it. But God, I still couldn’t understand how I was getting through this. How I didn’t burst into tears on Max’s shoulder or cry so loudly that everybody would have to put their hands over their ears to reclaim their desired silence. I did none of those things.

  I was afraid of death. I didn’t believe in God, in heaven or hell, or the eternal afterlife. I knew just one thing: there once was a person in front of me and then they were gone. That was it. And because I didn’t expect anything from death, it really scared me. But that fear was vague and hazy like smoke.

  ***

  Five days later, Lily was moved to the ICU. A few days after that, she went into a coma. Four days after that, she was gone. Much later, Jack said that while in a dream, he saw her smiling.

  We weren’t in the hospital when it happened. Max’s phone rang early in the morning. He picked it up almost immediately; he must not have been sleeping. He didn’t say anything. He just listened. My gaze bounced around the barely visible ceiling when he whispered, “It’s over.”

  He pulled back the blanket, got dressed, opened the door, and went out. I covered my face with my hands. I tried to take a breath, but my lungs ached as if they’d shrunk to tiny raisins.

  I got out of bed. Washed my face in the cold water. Came to the kitchen. Put the kettle on. I made breakfast, which neither of us touched.

  “Max…”

  I found him outside. He was sitting on the grass with his knees pulled to his chest, his eyes staring at the cloudless sky. The sun had already climbed up high over the
horizon; the day promised to be a real scorcher.

  “Max, I love you.”

  He looked at me. My heart sank painfully at the sight of his red eyes and traces of tears on his cheeks. “It hurts,” he said calmly, as if diagnosing himself. “It hurts so much.”

  “I know.”

  I lowered myself onto the grass next to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. I ran my hand through his hair and rested my chin on his head. Max remained quiet, his faltering breaths the only thing breaking the silence. He shook his head and whispered, “What on earth should I say to Jack?”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but Max stopped me short. He pulled away from me and jumped to his feet, his face tense, his eyes flashing with anger. He wiped his face on his shirt collar with one rapid movement.

  “I shouldn’t have lost it,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his hands into fists. “We need to see Jack. He needs us.”

  He turned to me. “Are you coming with me?” he said, his gaze sharp and piercing.

  I paused, looking at him. His face was impenetrable, his lips pursed and pressed together so tightly it seemed like they were trembling. It was the exact same look he had when I first saw him sitting alone in the rain.

  I stood up and approached him. “I’m with you,” I whispered softly.

  The relief flashed in his eyes before his gaze clouded over again. Max nodded and, without saying a word, went forward.

  By noon the sun began to roast us with all its unbearable strength. We hurried away from the street, ending up in a random cafe with shabby sofas and a greasy counter. It had so many marks on it, as if it had been scratched by hundreds of rabid cats.

  Jack was late. Max ordered tomato soup and Caesar salad for me and a cup of black coffee for him. Jack entered the moment I put the empty plates away. Noticing Max, he approached us, his lips twisting in a smile but the way his mouth curved, it looked more like a grimace. He didn’t come alone; the stench of alcohol accompanied him.