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Cherry blossoms
Then
Valentine’s Day dawns its grey murky sunrise and I stare through the bedroom window as I have all night, waiting for this day to arrive. If you’d asked me a month ago how my first Valentine’s with a real boyfriend would be — a proper, snogging, shagging boyfriend — I’d have been jumping for joy at the prospect of the cheesiness of it all. Bring on the chocolates, hearts, and snogging/shagging.
Now, as I watch the cold winter dawn spread through my room, I feel only a chill run along my skin.
My fingers reach for Freddy’s locket and tears sting my eyes so sharp I have to blink and blink until I’ve washed them away.
This isn’t how I thought things would be, but at the same time, now I can’t imagine it being anything different. Every day, I sit and try to absorb some of Freddy’s pain, but how can you absorb something when you can’t actually feel it yourself?
I yank my duvet off and swing my feet onto the icy floor. I don’t know what to do today. I don’t know how to make Valentine’s special for Freddy, and it’s kept me up all night worrying about it.
What to do for Freddy Bale, the beautiful boy in a hospital bed, no longer able to walk.
In the kitchen, I make myself a coffee and as I can hear my dad moving around getting ready for work, I pour him one too, adding extra sugar just the way he likes it.
“Hey, Sunshine,” he greets me when he spies me holding the coffee mug. “What are you doing up? Still struggling to sleep?” Sleep has become my enemy since that fateful day in January. Sleep no longer brings me rest; it brings nightmares and terror.
“You know, just trying to think of something to do for Valentine’s?” I prompt him, hoping he might have a blinding idea.
“Picnic in the hospital?”
I curl my lip.
“Hot chocolate, DVD, and marshmallows?” he tries again. “Snuggled under a blanket?”
“On a hospital bed that vibrates and blows up with air every two minutes?” I contend.
“Don’t know then, sorry. I’m sure he will just be happy with a card. I doubt he’s up for anything much, anyway.”
“It’s our first Valentine’s together. I can’t just let it go unnoticed,” I whine.
“Romantic walk, followed by a picnic,” says my mum’s voice from the kitchen doorway. She’s stood there watching my dad and I chat, her eyes wary.
“How can I do that? The only time they let him out of bed is for physio.”
“Call and ask?”
“What, ring and say, ‘Please can I take my boyfriend for a hospital-bound date?’ and then hope they let me escape with him out of the ward?”
Mum shrugs and comes into the kitchen, flicking the kettle and sliding a mug over. Our relationship has been marginally better since she was with me in the hospital the day they woke Freddy up. She has made sure I’ve eaten and tried to get me to sleep, not that I can.
“No harm in asking. Would you like some breakfast, Amber?”
The thought of breakfast makes my stomach roll. “I’ll grab something later, thank you.”
“Make sure you do.”
“I will. So listen, why don’t you guys go out tonight?” I don’t even know why I say it, Mum and Dad never do anything for Valentine’s, or birthdays, or Christmas. Well, actually, they never do anything for each other—ever.
“We could do?” Dad looks at Mum expectantly.
Shooting him down, she sends him a withering look and shuffles her way out of the kitchen in her slippers.
“I’ll be here with you, Dad,” I try to make things better. Obviously, I can’t.
“Nah, you and Freddy have a good time.” He walks over and grabs me in a hug. “Amber, I know it’s hard, but he is still the same boy inside that made you go crazy giggles just a couple of months ago.”
