A Happy Ending

“There are a few things I really want you to know about me. I love you with all my heart, and I would do anything for you. Also, what I’m about to tell you is a happy story. Please don’t be sad for too long. If you ever need me, just reach out. I'll be here.

"Sometimes, I don’t know how I do the things I do, but I know it has something to do with my determination. As your father used to say: stubbornness. My father called it ‘a force of will’.

"I never really understood that term before. 'A force of will’, is that like an unstoppable force or an immovable object? I don’t know. Right now, I don’t really care. Right now, I care about this story.

"When I was young, maybe seven or eight, I was headed to Lauren Stanton’s house. I swerved on my bike, the gravel slipped, and I was headed for the Lauren’s mailbox. I had a few moments to jerk my bike back under me before I slid down the driveway, bare skin on rocks. That ‘force of will’ came out of me. I corrected the bike, dodged the mailbox, and pulled off a dismount worthy of Olympic gymnasts.

"As I grew older, I put myself in less risky situations but my ‘will’ still showed up. At the apartment on Tucker drive, I opened the refrigerator door and heard the sliding sound of glass. You stood at my feet. I knew you would be cut or worse from the falling pickle jar. I reached out.

"I didn’t extend my arm. Well, not right away. I reached out with my ‘will’. The jar slowed. The clock slowed. Your reaction from the incoming danger solidified on your face. Then the jar stopped, and the clock didn’t tick. I finally extended my hand and grabbed the jar.

"Time lurched forward. The jar was safety in my hand, and your fearful expression lingered only a second longer. You toddled toward the kitchen table, completely unaware of what had just happened. I don’t know how, but I know that I did it for you.

"When you were seven, you and I went to the supermarket on a Saturday for spaghetti sauce. You wanted spaghetti and I wanted to take a walk. On our way home, a man ran out from the alley. He was being chased by the police. He fired two shots toward the officers.

"I don’t know how I knew, but I knew the next shot would hurt you. We were bystanders to the confrontation, but I knew. I felt for the gun. I could feel it, even though it was across the street, I could feel it. I could sense the trigger and the bullet.

"I heard a quiet click come from the weapon, and the man threw it to the side. It didn’t fire. The police told me the man had mistakenly loaded some blanks. I knew better, and I knew that was also for you.

"When you were diagnosed I couldn’t imagine any way to help. What force could I possibly exert on cancer? I couldn’t catch “terminal”. I couldn’t force the tests to be blank. I couldn’t save you…

"But, as your grandfather would say, ‘I am a force of will’. I want you to know that I have never left your side. Three weeks, you and I have been in this hospital room. The monitors beeping and the air bag inflating, then releasing. I have sat here, holding your hand as you slept.

"I could see it coming… the end. I saw your will to live slowly draining from you. For you, the monitors long squeal started only moments ago, but to me, we have been frozen. Just like that pickle jar.

"I was searching. I was panicking. I was grasping for any way to stop the next moment from happening. So, I did. I froze us until I could find a way.

"I don’t know how I did it, but I reached… inward. I felt the force my daddy spoke about. I managed to pull if from my inner being. This purple crystalline orb internally swirling with green. It seemed to know I needed it here with me. It seemed to know you needed it more.

"You seemed to know it too. As I stood here, next to your hospital bed, a small fragile crystal rose from your chest. It wasn’t weak. It was just not ready for the strain your young life had placed on it. It was dim and the edges badly worn. A crack divided the crystal almost in two. I knew if I released time to flow again, this little gem would shatter.

"Time is trying to speed up again, and there’s two things I want you to remember. Once I switch these, you will have the will to live, and I will always be right here.” Mary spoke softly to a teenage girl in the bed, deep in a coma, and breathing in rhythm to the ventilator. The bright green light danced across the surface of the crystal, transcribing Mary's story on the facets.

Outside the room, time dragged but was moving again. The monitor at the nurses station flicked to life. A single alarm tone burped from the speaker. Brown, deep set , and tired eyes shifted toward the light. Carolyn, the lead nurse on night shift, had comforted Mary every night for weeks. Her face slowly contorted as she understood the emergency code and room number.

The act of standing and running for ICU room 13 still took an eternity within the influence of Mary’s fading will. Mary glanced toward the window and saw the colorful scrubs moving closer. She gently smiled as she clutched the fragile crystal and pressed the vibrant purple force into her daughter's chest.

“A happy ending.” She said.

Time resumed. Carolyn rounded the door frame on her path to the bedside.

Sound rushed back into Mary’s ears, and she closed her eyes from exhaustion. She heard rhythmic beeping resume on the monitor, a gentle inhale, and a faint inward sound of crystal breaking.