that once again, no one seems to notice us making our escape. We head down to the lobby, and as we emerge and walk toward the tree, I find myself searching for Jamie. But he’s not around.
“Ask the tree for your extra day,” Logan says.
I touch the trunk of the tree, like I did last time, and murmur, “One day more.” Several leaves flutter from the tree, and Logan picks them up and hands them to me.
“Five,” he says solemnly.
I study the leaves in my hand. “What does that mean?”
He waits until I’ve looked him in the eye. “It means that in five calendar days, you’ll be gone, Jill.”
I gape at him. “Wait, what?”
“Each time you ask for one day more, the tree sends down the same number of leaves as there are days left in your life.”
“But the doctor said I have another month or two!”
“Doctors aren’t always right.”
I consider that, and then I shake my head and look back at the leaves. “Five days? How many do you have, Logan?”
He touches the tree and says, “One day more.” We both watch as many leaves flutter to the ground. “Twenty-two,” he says without counting them. “I have twenty-two days.”
“That’s all?” It’s so unfair.
“Don’t forget, I’ve been living for a really long time like this,” he says. “I’ve been doing this for a grand total of about three years now.”
“Three years ?”
He nods. “I was the first. I don’t know why the tree chose me, but it did. I woke up one night, just before midnight, and I had the weirdest feeling that I was supposed to go down to the lobby. So I snuck past the night nurse and wound up staring at the tree. I looked up at the skylight, and the moon was really bright overhead. That’s when I heard it.”
“Heard what?”
“The voice. Coming from the tree. A girl’s voice. She said, ‘Touch the tree and ask for one day more if you want to keep living.’ And so I did. And the leaves fell. And the tree explained everything.”
“You realize this sounds crazy, don’t you?”
Logan smiles and shrugs. “Maybe all great things do at first. Wouldn’t you agree?”
L ATER, AFTER I get Logan tucked back into bed, I check my watch and head for the nursing station. I need to get out of here early if I have any hope of getting Merel into the hospital before he has his heart attack.
But first, I have to explain to Sheila why I’m leaving.
“Girl, you look like death warmed over,” she says as I approach the nursing station. It’s exactly what she said yesterday.
“Sheila, I need to tell you something.”
She looks up at me, and something in her expression changes. “Jill! The doctor’s appointment! I forgot! How did it go?”
I cut right to the chase. “Not well. I’m dying, Sheils. The doctor said I only have a month or two left.” I refrain from adding that the tree’s estimate differs. “It’s an aggressive glioblastoma.”
“No. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe it.” Tears pool in her eyes. “You’re fine! You’re standing right here, and you’re fine.”
I smile. At least her replies are consistent. “No, Sheila, I’m not. My brain is shutting down. There’s nothing they can do.” I check my watch. It’s a half hour earlier than when I left yesterday, which might mean I still have time to save Merel. “I’m so sorry.”
Sheila is sobbing now, big, heaving sobs. “No, I’m sorry! It’s just so unfair.”
“I know,” I tell her. “And we can talk more about it later. I have to get going now.”
She nods and pulls me into a fierce hug. “You’re going to fight this.”
“I will,” I tell her, even though I know it’s a losing battle.
I take the elevator down to the ground floor, hurry past the tree, and emerge into the late-afternoon sunlight. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust, and I’m immensely relieved to see the bench across the street empty. Merel hasn’t arrived yet, which means there’s still time to get him into the hospital. Those precious
“Ask the tree for your extra day,” Logan says.
I touch the trunk of the tree, like I did last time, and murmur, “One day more.” Several leaves flutter from the tree, and Logan picks them up and hands them to me.
“Five,” he says solemnly.
I study the leaves in my hand. “What does that mean?”
He waits until I’ve looked him in the eye. “It means that in five calendar days, you’ll be gone, Jill.”
I gape at him. “Wait, what?”
“Each time you ask for one day more, the tree sends down the same number of leaves as there are days left in your life.”
“But the doctor said I have another month or two!”
“Doctors aren’t always right.”
I consider that, and then I shake my head and look back at the leaves. “Five days? How many do you have, Logan?”
He touches the tree and says, “One day more.” We both watch as many leaves flutter to the ground. “Twenty-two,” he says without counting them. “I have twenty-two days.”
“That’s all?” It’s so unfair.
“Don’t forget, I’ve been living for a really long time like this,” he says. “I’ve been doing this for a grand total of about three years now.”
“Three years ?”
He nods. “I was the first. I don’t know why the tree chose me, but it did. I woke up one night, just before midnight, and I had the weirdest feeling that I was supposed to go down to the lobby. So I snuck past the night nurse and wound up staring at the tree. I looked up at the skylight, and the moon was really bright overhead. That’s when I heard it.”
“Heard what?”
“The voice. Coming from the tree. A girl’s voice. She said, ‘Touch the tree and ask for one day more if you want to keep living.’ And so I did. And the leaves fell. And the tree explained everything.”
“You realize this sounds crazy, don’t you?”
Logan smiles and shrugs. “Maybe all great things do at first. Wouldn’t you agree?”
L ATER, AFTER I get Logan tucked back into bed, I check my watch and head for the nursing station. I need to get out of here early if I have any hope of getting Merel into the hospital before he has his heart attack.
But first, I have to explain to Sheila why I’m leaving.
“Girl, you look like death warmed over,” she says as I approach the nursing station. It’s exactly what she said yesterday.
“Sheila, I need to tell you something.”
She looks up at me, and something in her expression changes. “Jill! The doctor’s appointment! I forgot! How did it go?”
I cut right to the chase. “Not well. I’m dying, Sheils. The doctor said I only have a month or two left.” I refrain from adding that the tree’s estimate differs. “It’s an aggressive glioblastoma.”
“No. Absolutely not. I refuse to believe it.” Tears pool in her eyes. “You’re fine! You’re standing right here, and you’re fine.”
I smile. At least her replies are consistent. “No, Sheila, I’m not. My brain is shutting down. There’s nothing they can do.” I check my watch. It’s a half hour earlier than when I left yesterday, which might mean I still have time to save Merel. “I’m so sorry.”
Sheila is sobbing now, big, heaving sobs. “No, I’m sorry! It’s just so unfair.”
“I know,” I tell her. “And we can talk more about it later. I have to get going now.”
She nods and pulls me into a fierce hug. “You’re going to fight this.”
“I will,” I tell her, even though I know it’s a losing battle.
I take the elevator down to the ground floor, hurry past the tree, and emerge into the late-afternoon sunlight. I blink a few times as my eyes adjust, and I’m immensely relieved to see the bench across the street empty. Merel hasn’t arrived yet, which means there’s still time to get him into the hospital. Those precious
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