Shock turned me into a mute statue witnessing Galloway’s long hair wafting around his face with every compression, Pippa’s white cheeks as she exhaled into her brother’s mouth, and the warm tide never ceasing in its caresses.
A stonefish was fatal in high doses. I doubted anyone had had a larger dose.
I have to do something.
Anything.
But I knew, better than them, better than Conner, that there was nothing.
Even if we had an antidote and ambulance, there was nothing anyone could do.
The Grim Reaper had finally visited.
For three years, we’d survived together without loss. We’d laughed, cried, kept our diet varied, and fought our illnesses with strength. We ignored every statistic saying a crash landing like ours would ensure another death before long.
This wasn’t fate.
This was destiny.
It had finally found us.
To claim a life far too young.
Conner met my eyes, seawater tracking down his cheeks. “Stel—”
I captured his spasmodic fingers, bringing them to my lips. While my husband and daughter fought to keep him alive, I offered solitude and safe harbour as he slipped.
Slipped and slipped, faded and faded.
“I love you, Conner,” I whispered. “So, so much.”
He couldn’t reply but his gaze burned brown with bravery. Reaching out, I touched Pippa’s shoulder, creating a connected triangle between us. “Shush, it’s okay, Pippi. I’ve got you.”
The moment my hand landed on her skin, Pippa dissolved. Her spine rolled and tears pried from her soul. My touch blared the truth; truth she didn’t want to believe.
He’s leaving us.
She collapsed into gut-wrenching sobs. “No. No!” Her fingers looped with Conner’s as she chanted over and over, “Don’t go to sleep, Co. Please, please don’t go to sleep. I can’t make it without you.”
My own tears made everything a water-world as I held my two children and gave into the heart-cramping, soul-tearing knowledge that we knocked on demise’s door.
Galloway coughed back tears as Conner convulsed in his embrace. The teenager’s heart pounded so hard, his pulse was visible in his white-shocked neck. His tan couldn’t hide the spread of suffocation, turning him icicle-blue.
“It’s okay, Conner,” I murmured. “It’s okay.”
It’s not okay.
Nothing about this is okay!
Pippa screamed and struggled.
But Conner couldn’t comfort her.
His eyes remained locked on mine.
Brown to hazel, young to old.
This boy loved me.
I loved him.
I sobbed harder, giving him every ounce of my affection. “I love you, Conner.” My back gave out as I brought his hand to my mouth and kissed him. I let gravity sway me to his venom-riddled form and I kissed his brow, his nose, his cheeks.
His eyes remained open, stealing final glimpses of this world. His skin lost life-luminosity as his mouth sucked air.
His body suffered too much poison.
His nervous system shut down.
His consciousness was the last lingering piece tethering him to pain.
I didn’t want him in agony any longer.
Pulling me away, Galloway snatched me to him, hugging me, hugging Pippa as we worshipped at the feet of an angel and said farewell.
Pippa peppered kisses all over his face, murmuring promises and pacts. Galloway patted him and stroked his cheek, unable to hold back his sadness, vowing to keep his sister and me safe for him.
Conner’s eyes landed on each of us as his lungs failed and his heart gave up its valiant beat.
His body thrashed.
His lips mouthed, ‘I love you.’
And then...
he
was
gone.
.............................
OCTOBER
Conner.
I couldn’t say his name without battling wet, heavy tears.
I couldn’t think about him without wanting to tear apart the past and make it false, to reincarnate him from a terribly sadistic joke.
I even struggled to say my daughter’s name as it reminded me too much of Conner’s grin when she’d said her first word. The similarities between Conner and Coco mutilated my heart on a minutely basis.
He’d loved me.
And left me.
For days, I couldn’t get out of bed.
No one could.
We lay frozen, neither eating nor drinking; only cracking the tomb of our sorrow to care for Coco when she squalled.
Coco.
Those two letters were forever smeared in woe.
Co.
Co.
Come back.
I’m sorry.
I couldn’t understand how the quills had lodged in his chest. How had he stepped wrongly? Did he fall? Had a wave pushed him onto the reef?
Or had it just been one of those things—unforeseen, unplanned, but the tiniest mistake that cost the best of lives.
We would never know.
We’d forever wonder what stole Conner from us.
And we’d never have an enemy in which to extract vengeance.
.............................
The funeral was held two weeks ago, yet the pain of his loss felt only hours old.
Pippa hadn’t said a word since we’d gathered on the same beach where we’d laid to rest our pilot and her parents and weighed down Conner’s body for the tide to claim.
He’d looked asleep. Cold and unloved. But only asleep.