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Alexa shakes her head. “I’m… fine. Really.” Her eyes swerve to me. “Adam, let’s… go. Please? I want… to go.”
“You should listen to Greta.”
“I think I… know… my own body.”
I cave. “Okay. But you’re going to take it easy.”
“I promise.”
“Let’s go, kid.” I motion to Rowan.
“Yes!” Rowan jumps up and down and chants, “In-di-a! In-di-a! In-di-a!”
Steve brings the car around. He gives me a sympathetic look when I wheel Alexa out.
I pretend not to see and help Alexa out of the wheelchair. She’s changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, but all her makeup is still on. Somehow, the contrast of her fancy makeup and normal clothes only makes her look more frail.
“You okay?” I ask, noticing her eyes squeezing shut in pain.
“Yeah,” she answers.
But that’s a lie.
Alexa is not okay, and it becomes abundantly clear when the medic plane crew refuses to fly with her.
“Her body can’t handle a trip that length,” the flying nurse says, her face strict.
I glance at Rowan’s disappointed frown. “How about a shorter trip then?”
She shakes her head.
“In the country?”
“She can’t get on a plane. Period. And I wouldn’t suggest long road trips either. She should be in the hospital’s care. Not traveling the country.”
“I don’t want to be… in the hospital,” Alexa says weakly.
Rowan walks to his mother’s side and holds her hand. His eyes are starting to get teary again. “Come on, mom. There’s only one wish left. I really wanted to scratch that off for you.”
“We still can,” I say determinedly.
Rowan looks up at me with hope in his eyes.
I make a few calls and then take Rowan and Alexa to a Bollywood movie theatre. The inside smells of naan and curry. The decorations are all red, gold and cultural.
Rowan grins when someone comes out to greet us with garlands and puts a red dot on our forehead.
“See,” Alexa squeezes Rowan’s hand while I push her into the dark theatre, “this is… almost… like India.”
He nods enthusiastically.
“Bud, do me a favor and hold the wheelchair for me. I’ll take your mom out.”
Rowan holds the chair steady while I scoop Alexa into my arms. She weighs practically nothing.
“I booked out the entire theatre,” I say quietly, setting her down on a chair in the middle row. “There’s food.” I gesture to the tables set up for us. “And drinks. It’s not India, but it’s as close as I can get.”
“It’s… perfect. Really. Thank you… Adam.” She squeezes my hand, but it’s only a weak pressure on my fingers.
