by Hannah Bent
Marlowe and I are con-nec-ted by an invisibel, sparkelling thred and when my hart is gone, im scared hers will go too.
This is why I will take the hart that is not mine. This is why I will do it.
I will fix my Marlowe. I will make things better again.
An unfamiliar calm washed over my body. I felt my feet on the floor, as if I was aware of the ground beneath me for the first time.
‘What have I done?’
I touched my cheeks; they were wet and warm. I let my fingertips linger on my skin, accustoming myself to the texture of my sadness.
I closed Harper’s book, noticing as I did the title she had written on the cover: The Plum Hart.
I grabbed my coat and ran for the door.
Harper
Cross the road to reach the park on the other side. Look up, then you will see an arrow pointing to the gates. Turn the corner and at the entrance to Zhōngshān Park is a big gate.
I repeat in my mind the instructions Ān Chén gave me when I asked her how to get to the park.
I leave the lobby of Bì Yù’s apartment. The sky is angry, shouting balls of ice from the sky. They hit me hard on my head and shoulders. I walk slowly as I am alone, no one is pushing me in my special chair today. My breath is difficult to take in and let out. It was a good thing I brought the air tank for my lungs.
Cross the road.
I look to the left and I look to the right. The streets are more quiet than normal. I can see puffs of warm air leaving my lips. As I am walking on the wide road, an old man on a bicycle goes past me. On the back, in a basket, he has two little white dogs. I have to stop and watch because they are so cute.
I hear a beeeeeeeeeeeeep of a car horn, too close. I drop my air tank when I put my hands over my ears. A man gets out of a blue taxi. Even though my hearing is shut, I can still make out his sounds. He spits rude words into my face in Chinese: rude words that would make Wài Pó very upset.
My poor little heart is moving fast and heavy in my wet chest. I am feeling a bit dizzy now. I cough, pick up my air tank and put the mask over my mouth. The shouting stops.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep comes again. I want to lie flat on the ground, but then I hear Louis’s calm voice in my head. He says, My dear, sweet Harper, all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other one.
I remember him saying this the last time I wanted to cross the road in Hong Kong, and I was a bit scared by all the noises. He told me to count my steps: ‘One, two, three, four…’
So, this is what I do.
The cold feels like big fish with sharp teeth, biting at my bare skin. I pull the hood of my jumper over my head and walk on. Five, six, seven… My hood keeps falling off and I only have two hands, so I stop again to fix it.
Beeeeeeeeeeeep. I drop my special air tank again and my mask falls down with it. My chest is tight like there are big hands around my heart, strangling it. With all my strength, I move as fast as I can to the pavement. Eight, nine, ten… I’m nearly there. I can feel my heart shiver and shake. I might be sick. Eleven, twelve, thirteen… there is a fire in my throat… fourteen… whoosh. My heart skips one beat and I arrive onto the pavement. It is very hard to get air into my lungs, so I sit on a bench. I want to tell Louis about how brave I have been and the thought makes me feel happy. But I cannot feel happy for long, because in front of me I can see my poor, old air tank getting knocked about by wheels of the cars on the road. Poor old air tank.
I try to remember what Ān Chén said to do next: Look up, then you will see an arrow pointing to the gates. I stand, but I am a bit wobbly. It is like the blood from my head is travelling at high speed into my feet. I grab hold of the side of the bench but do not sit down. I have to keep walking, before it is too late.
As I walk, I listen to the sound of my breath. It is like a grumpy old man growling. I look up and see a green arrow the same colour as the trees, I follow it around the corner. Turn the corner and at the entrance to Zhōngshān Park is a big gate.
I see it in front of me! It looks strong, tall and has a dark brown roof and cream walls. The colours together remind me of vanilla ice cream with melting chocolate on top.
The sounds from the street outside become quiet. Above me and around me are trees, their long arms, vines and roots reach together and touch above my head in a half-moon shape, covered in pink blossoms. The petals fall to the ground like whispering snow. It feels like a wedding day, so bright and full with colour. I forget about all my body pains for a moment and continue down the path as if I am floating. I remember how Mum used to bring me, Marlowe and Bì Yù here to play when we were small. After Mum died, Wài Pó brought us. I still feel Mum’s spirit with me when the leaves on the trees pat and shiver like the sound of falling rain.
Her blossoms are a darker shade of pink than the rest. No plums yet, but I know when the season changes, they will come. There is a deep mark that Marlowe and Bì Yù made on her trunk when they were small. It is in the shape of a star. They did it with a pen knife and the sharpness of it made me cry. I told them that was a very mean thing to do.
‘I am so sorry,’ I say, touching the star with my fingertip.
My hands wrap around her trunk and I lean in. She is rough, but she feels warmer than the air.
Even though I am wearing a thick coat, I am sweating. My body is hot and cold hot and cold hot and cold.
I move my hands all the way down to where the base of her ripples under the soil. This is where she takes life. She is a strong tree.
My chest hurts again, like a tight tight tight squeeze. I crouch down onto my knees. My sound thumps loudly in my head: Da dum da dum da da dum. I feel a danger in my heart. No, it can’t be.
I look up again.
Oh, my special tree, look at how you have grown. Your branches are so long now, and full of colour. I sit by her on the earth and lean my head against her trunk. Da da dum dum, da dum da dum…
I am so tired now. So very, very tired.
Marlowe
I was hit by a blast of cold air as I ran from Bì Yù’s apartment building. I was standing by the kerb, waiting for a break in the traffic, when I saw Harper’s oxygen tank on the far side of the road. It had been run over and the mask had cracked and split. ‘No!’
I crossed the road and my mind went wild with images of Harper: on the ground, bleeding, having been hit by a car… or lying frozen and blue-lipped in a remote corner of the park, unable to breathe.
I ran through the large gate into Zhōngshān Park and remembered walking through it holding Mum’s hand while Harper and Bì Yù raced ahead. I heard Mum’s voice say, ‘Míng Yuè, look up.’ Above us was a canopy of blossoms in magenta and soft pinks.
The path forked and without thinking I chose the right-hand path.
Then I saw the flash of a red coat in the distance: it was Harper, slumped against a plum tree. Bì Yù was already by her side.
I sprinted, my legs on fire.
The sight of Harper shocked the breath from my lungs. Eyes closed, she looked eerily serene, her bruised lips parted in a half-smile.
My fingers fumbled at the cool skin of her neck for a pulse. I held my breath… then exhaled. It was faint, but it was there.
‘You wait here – I’ll get an ambulance.’ Bì Yù turned and ran.
I took off my coat and wrapped it around Harper’s limp body, then I sat beneath the tree.
I lifted her onto my lap, drawing her close to share my warmth.
‘Oh, Harper,’ I whispered, ‘forgive me.’
The siren wailed overhead as we squeezed in beside Harper’s gurney in the ambulance. Two paramedics dressed in black and white stabbed the skin on her arm with a large needle as they tried to find a vein. Her eyes opened and closed as she drifted in and out of consciousness. Blood oozed from her puncture wounds and I felt the veins in my own body shudder. Don’t hurt her! I wanted to scream, and at the same time, Hurry, please fix her, try harder for a vein! Wires threaded out from her chest under the bl
ankets.
‘They can’t find a vein because she’s too dehydrated.’ I grabbed hold of Bì Yù’s hand and gripped it tightly. Bì Yù stroked my hand, like Harper would. Her touch was comforting.
Harper’s rasping breath grew louder. ‘My sound.’
I looked up.
Harper’s eyes fluttered open. ‘My sound.’
‘Tell me…’ I steadied my voice. ‘What are you trying to say?’
She pointed to her chest. ‘Listen.’
I put my ear to her heart. The beating in her chest was faint, its rhythm erratic.
Abruptly an alarm started to blare. She was flatlining.
I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
The paramedics moved swiftly, pumping Harper’s chest and filling her lungs with oxygen.
I found my voice. ‘Fix her! You have to fix her!’
Bì Yù pulled me close and held me tight. I didn’t know if it was my body shaking or hers.
I should have been more persistent; I should have got her a transplant earlier.
But then I thought of the last entry in Harper’s storybook. I closed my eyes. I heard a voice in my head: I am water. I am water. I saw Mum’s face. She was smiling at me.
‘I’m so sorry, Harper.’ Words spilled out of my mouth. ‘I should’ve listened to you. I’m so sorry.’ I recalled now how she had begged me to take her home, how she had told me over and over that she didn’t want someone else’s heart. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ But my words were futile. They couldn’t change anything. They couldn’t take me back in time.
Suddenly, the alarm stopped and beeping from the heart monitor resumed. The male paramedic told us that they had found a sinus rhythm. The female paramedic ceased performing CPR.
I exhaled. She’s back. A swelling in my throat found its way to my eyes. We swayed to the left as the ambulance swiftly turned a corner and came to a stop. The doors swung open and chill air rushed in. As the medics slid the gurney from the back of the ambulance and wheeled it into the hospital, I ran alongside it, gripping Harper’s hand. Doctors met us at the door, speaking quickly.
I looked at Bì Yù. ‘She can’t die here,’ I said. ‘I need to take her home. She needs to say good—’ Goodbye. I found myself choking on the word. ‘I need to call Dad. I need to tell him…’
‘Don’t worry,’ Bì Yù said. ‘I’ve already spoken with him. He’s on his way. They’re all on their way.’
My shoulders slumped in relief.
Harper’s hand twitched in mine. I looked down, her chestnut hair was splayed over the pillow. Her face was smooth, unmarked by tension. She seemed so peaceful.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered.
We had reached the entrance to the ICU. The doctors told us we couldn’t come any further. Bì Yù took me by the shoulders. Harper’s hand slipped from mine. I watched as she disappeared from sight. Large doors swung back and forth until they finally settled.
Part Three
Harper
Outside, the sun looks like an old man; clouds float over his golden chin making a long beard. I think to myself that I am glad to see the day falling into night. I have missed the sky, the air, the world outside the hospital in Shanghai. Most of all, I have missed all of my loves: my family and my Louis. I am so glad in my heart to be home.
Here, in the living room, I am lying in my special hospital kind of bed that they made for me, facing the garden and the sea. I think to myself that if my life were a book, I would be in my final chapter. I had so many plans:
Learn how to play the guitar.
Open a cafe with Wài Pó.
Get married to Louis and move into our own house.
Watch Marlowe get married.
Publish The Plum Heart.
I close my eyes and see my mum’s face. With a brave heart, I tell her: ‘I am too young to die.’ I ask her: ‘Who will I be when I’m gone?’
But she does not reply.
Thoughts in my brain turn off and on like Christmas lights. But one that keeps coming to me is that my illness is like a puzzle that I am not meant to solve. It is okay if the pieces do not fit together and now I feel like maybe I can leave them that way. After this, I have easier thoughts. The other day I found one grey hair on my head. Is dying making my colour fade?
I think to myself that I should catch a few of these thoughts and record them on paper, like building a wonderful bridge with my pen from this world to the next and back.
I take out my autobiographical storybook and make a last entry for the day.
Marlowe
I took a seat at my desk, now overlooking the garden. I could hear music playing in Dad’s bedroom – a recording of one of Mum’s pieces, something she had composed herself. The timbre of her piano was bright and rich, the notes cascading with a lightness and ease that could only have come from a pianist who was happy. Time stood still and I let myself flow with the music, letting myself go in a way I never had before. I wasn’t trying to understand how it worked; I was just listening, really listening, perhaps in the same way Harper would. Don’t think so much.
I was reminded of that Holborn Christmas party and how I was able to let go with Olly.
I looked at my watch. Olly would be here in an hour. I felt a flutter ripple through my belly. I opened the door and made my way along the hall to the landing. The house was full with the sounds of my family. Wài Pó, Bì Yù, Aunt Lĭ Nà and Louis’s mother, Deborah, chatted to each other in the kitchen. Uncle Bĭng Wén and Louis’s dad, Michael, sat in a corner of the living room drinking whisky. Occasionally, Uncle Bĭng Wén made his way to the kitchen to tell the ladies to keep their voices down so as not to disturb Harper. I found myself becoming acutely aware of Irene’s absence. Dad had said she felt that she kept making mistakes with Harper, kept hurting her, and that we were all better off without her.
Hurting her.
Was Irene really able to acknowledge this? A part of me couldn’t quite believe it; it sounded too good to be true. Then I thought of the mistakes I had made over the last few weeks. I too was fallible. I too had made some bad choices. Yes, I should reach out to Irene; after all, I was the one who drove her away. The only thing stopping me was Harper. If I had learned one thing in Shanghai, it was to respect her wishes. She should be the one to decide if she wanted Irene to come home.
I leaned against the banister and watched my sister in the living room below. She lay in the new hospital bed we had bought for her, facing the garden. She had asked for it to be placed in the living room so that she could be in the middle of things, so that she wouldn’t have to be alone during this time. Her palliative care nurse, Samantha, was injecting something into Harper’s cannula. She spoke softly to Harper, gently stroking the skin as fluid entered her veins. I said a silent ‘thank you’ for Samantha. She was making Harper’s remaining time on earth a little easier; she was giving us all a chance to enjoy Harper’s company and spend time with her in the comfort of our home.
‘Coming through!’ Louis bustled into the living room carrying a tray piled high with chocolate chip cookies. He held a crumbling biscuit to Harper’s lips.
She took a small bite, then shook her head. ‘No more.’ Her voice was gravelly and old. Although I had accepted Harper’s decision not to pursue a transplant, the pain of watching her deteriorate and knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it hurt me more than I felt my body could hold.
‘Never mind, my sweet lady, I’ll eat what you can’t.’ He finished the cookies at an alarming rate. She carefully leaned over to wipe the crumbs from his chin. Watching them together struck me hard in the ribs. The two of them planned to wed in a few days. They wouldn’t have long together as a married couple and I had taken precious moments away from them. Since we had arrived home, I thought of our time in Shanghai with regret. Seeing Harper and Louis like this, I wished that I had never separated them.
‘Grief can make us do strange things.’ Dad was standing next to me. I didn’t know how long
he’d been there. His presence was quiet – even more so since we had returned from China. ‘I want you to know that I am… that I feel…’
Oh God, he was trying to have a deep and meaningful.
‘I’m so…’
Come on, Dad.
‘I’m so proud of you.’ He put his arm around my shoulder and drew me close.
His words stunned me.
‘How can you say this after everything I’ve done?’
He was quiet for a moment. ‘It’s not easy… it’s not easy saying goodbye.’
My chest tightened. This was too much; I wanted Dad to stop voicing what I needed to leave unsaid. But instead of pulling away, I found myself wanting to lean in. I buried my head in his chest and breathed in: cologne, bitter coffee, laundry detergent and, finally, the garden: sweet florals and fresh salt air. Our home. My father: the one who stayed, the one who never left. His arms wrapped tighter around me.
When I pulled away, he looked at me and smiled. ‘How do I look?’ He adjusted his blue bow tie and smoothed his salmon-pink shirt.
‘A bit overdressed,’ I said.
‘I want to make a good impression.’
And just like that I was smiling.
Harper
I hear the soft, quick, pit-pat of Marlowe’s feet coming down the stairs. I always know when it is her sound, even though hers is the quietest of all of us. Sometimes I think to myself that she belongs to the air and not the earth.
I ask Louis if he will give me some time alone with my sister. The love of her heart, Oliver, is coming soon and I am very excited about this but I want to be with her by myself before I have to share her.
Louis says, ‘Okay,’ and he kisses me on the forehead and tells me he will go to the kitchen and help everyone cook dinner. I know this means that he will be tasting all the food and get full in his stomach before the meal is put onto the table.
