Chapter2
1156 Words
Chapter 2: “The Last Perfect Day”
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Kael didn’t sleep that night.
The memory of Mara’s 16th birthday sat behind his eyes like a second heartbeat. Salt air. Sun hot on skin. The sound of Dorian yelling “Again!” as she wiped out on the surfboard for the tenth time. It was too clean, too bright, compared to the garbage he usually stole.
He tried to push it down. Failed.
By 3 AM he was back at St. Luke’s, standing across the street under a flickering streetlight. Room 4’s window was dark.
He told himself he was checking she was okay. He was lying.
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*Morning comes fast in hospitals.*
Kael returned at 8 AM, envelope of cash still unopened in his pocket. He didn’t plan to give it back. He planned to pretend he never took it.
The nurse at the desk stopped him. “You’re here early.”
“I have a follow-up,” Kael said. First lie that came to mind.
She didn’t buy it. “Room 4. But be quick. She’s not having a good morning.”
Room 4 smelled like old coffee and disinfectant. Mara was sitting up, headscarf crooked, eyes sharper than they should have been for someone who’d been awake since 4 AM.
“You’re back,” she said. Not surprised. “Broker said you wouldn’t come.”
Kael closed the door. “She’s wrong a lot.”
Mara studied him. “You look worse than yesterday.”
“Thanks.”
“You kept it,” she said. Not a question.
Kael didn’t answer. He couldn’t.
Mara sighed, shifting against the pillows. “Good. That means you’re not a monster.”
Kael almost laughed. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you didn’t sell it,” she said. “If you had, you’d be gone by now. Selling means you’re done caring.”
She was wrong about a lot of things. But not that.
Mara held out her hand. “Sit. I’m tired of talking to the ceiling.”
Kael sat. The chair creaked.
“Tell me,” she said. “What was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“The memory. When it was in you.”
Kael looked away. “It’s not yours anymore.”
“No,” Mara said. “But it was. And I want to know it didn’t turn into something ugly.”
Kael swallowed. The memory was right there, waiting. If he opened it, he’d be 16 again. He’d feel the sun, hear Dorian’s voice, feel the sting of saltwater in his eyes.
“It was warm,” he said quietly. “And loud. The ocean. You were laughing. You kept falling off the board and he kept pulling you up.”
Mara’s eyes closed. “Dorian.”
“Yeah,” Kael said. “He said, ‘You’ll get it next time, Mare. I promise.’”
Mara’s mouth twitched. “He always said that.”
For a minute, neither of them spoke. The machines beeped. Outside, a gurney rattled past.
“Why’d you choose that day?” Kael asked.
Mara opened her eyes. “Because after that, everything got small. Hospital rooms. Scans. Waiting. That day was the last time I felt big. Like I could do anything.”
Kael nodded. He got it.
“You know,” Mara said, “you’re the first person I’ve told that story to who didn’t cry.”
Kael managed a half-smile. “Crying doesn’t help.”
“No,” Mara said. “But listening does.”
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*The door opened.*
Dorian Voss filled the doorway. 6’1”, shoulders still broad even though he hadn’t been on the force in a year. His eyes went straight to Kael, then to Mara, then back to Kael.
“Who the hell are you?” he said.
Kael stood. “I’m -”
“Kael,” Mara said. “He’s my visitor.”
Dorian didn’t relax. “You’re not on the visitor list.”
Mara rolled her eyes. “I told the nurse to let him in. It’s my room, Dorian.”
Dorian’s jaw tightened. He didn’t like not being in control. “You said you didn’t want visitors today.”
“I changed my mind.”
Dorian looked at Kael again, cataloging him in two seconds: tired clothes, dark circles, hands that had done things they shouldn’t have.
“Alright,” Dorian said. “I’ll be outside.”
He left. The door clicked shut harder than it needed to.
Mara exhaled. “Sorry about him. He’s been like that since I got sick.”
“Protective?” Kael said.
“Controlling,” Mara said. “He thinks if he yells enough, the cancer will listen.”
Kael didn’t know what to say to that. So he didn’t say anything.
Mara looked at him. “You should go before he comes back. He’s a cop. Ex-cop. He notices things.”
Kael stood. “I’ll come back.”
Mara’s eyes widened slightly. “You don’t have to.”
“I know,” Kael said. “I want to.”
He left before she could argue.
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*That night, Mara died.*
Kael was asleep in his apartment when Broker called.
“She’s gone,” Broker said. No hello. No preamble. “Check the news.”
Kael sat up, heart hammering. “What?”
“Mara Voss. St. Luke’s. 11:47 PM. Peaceful, they said.”
Kael hung up.
He didn’t turn on the TV. He didn’t need to. He could feel it. The memory behind his eyes flared, brighter than before, like it knew.
Mara was gone.
And he was the only one left who had her 16th birthday.
The last time she was happy.
The last time she stood on a surfboard without an IV in her arm.
The last time Dorian called her Mare and meant it.
Kael put his head in his hands.
He could sell it. 100k easy. Grieving parents, desperate lovers, people who’d pay anything for one perfect day.
He could give it back. Find Dorian, tell him the truth, watch the memory fade from his own head and become someone else’s again.
Or he could keep it.
And become the thing he hated.
---
*Morning news ran a 30-second segment.*
_Mara Voss, 22, passed away last night after a two-year battle with rare degenerative disease. Family requests privacy._
No mention of the missing day. Not yet.
Kael turned it off.
He sat in the dark, the beach memory playing on loop.
Salt. Sun. Dorian’s voice.
“You’ll get it next time, Mare. I promise.”
Kael whispered back to an empty room: “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t know who he was sorry to.
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*End of Chapter 2 Hook:*
Kael’s phone buzzed. Unknown number again.
Message: _We need to talk. About Mara. - D.V._
Kael stared at it.
Dorian had found him faster than he thought.
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- Writer
