*SURPRISE SURPRISE*
"You can say anything, and I will not leave you..."
– Nautica
❀❀❀
~ R E E C E ~
February 1998
Dorothy does not say anything about Bonnie. There's just something about her serious demeanour that gives me the impression that Bonnie is the topic that she does not like to talk about. Although I am curious about who she is, I do not ask Dorothy about her.
We walk along a winding path until we reach a stone wall. Behind the wall sits a church that is surrounded by trees. The grey building is long with a triangle-shaped front. The windows of the church are tinted with different colours. When we walk past the opened metal gates, numerous tomb stones of different shapes and sizes come into view.
And it is at this moment that I finally understand her sombre aura.
We continue to walk until we stand in front of a particular gravestone.
In loving memory of a dear friend
Bonita Rose Taylor
1979 – 1993
At the realisation of how young she was when she died, a dull ache in my chest makes its presence known.
Dorothy goes down on her knees.
"Bonnie..." she whispers, tracing the carved name with her fingertips.
Her lower lip trembles and tears well in her eyes. She then covers her face with her hands as she begins to sob. Immediately, I get down and wrap my arms around her, pulling her close to my chest. When wetness seeps through my shirt, my grip on her tightens.
Millions of questions regarding Bonnie run through my mind. Who was she to Dorothy? How did they meet? How did she die? Why has Dorothy never mentioned her? The only thing I know is that Bonnie must have been someone very dear to her for her to react this way.
If this is her state now, I cannot imagine what she must have gone through when Bonnie departed.
"I-I'm s-sorry," she says.
"You have nothing to apologise for," I say.
When she regains her composure, she pulls away from me and sits straighter.
"Bonnie was my best friend – my saviour from that night. She was the one who brought Sister Alexa," she begins. "Since then, she and I became inseparable. She was an orphan and I was abandoned and, naturally, we found a family in each other – we declared each other sisters and St. Anne's as our home."
I am a bit comforted by the fact that Dorothy found a friend during her time here, but that small feeling vanishes when I glance at the tombstone in front of us.
"She was obsessed with Princess Diana," she continues. "Imperial was the closest university to Kensington Palace, so she made me vow to study there with her."
That explains why she is so determined and keen to study at Imperial – she wants to honour the promise she made with Bonnie.
It does not escape my notice that her hands are shaking. I hold onto them in an attempt to appease her. She looks down at her clasped hands and takes a deep breath in.
"She got diagnosed with leukaemia when she was only twelve. AML. By age thirteen, she was dying. Nothing could be done and we both knew that."
"...So cancer killed her," I whisper.
She shakes her head slowly.
"No," she whispers back. "I did."
I freeze, staring at her with wide eyes in disbelief.
"...What?" I say after a moment of silence, thinking that I may have misheard her.
"I killed Bonnie," she says, continuing to look down at our hands.
I look at the tombstone.
Dorothy killed her?
No...
I don't believe that. I refuse to believe that. Dorothy is the most innocent person I know.
Even if it were true – which I don't believe it is – I will deny it and murder anyone who says otherwise with my own bare hands.
"I don't tell anyone about this, but you are different, Reece," she says.
She faces me with a pale face and bloodshot eyes. My heart clenches at the sight of her.
"I can't bring myself to let you pursue me without knowing fully about my past," she says. "You have every right to know, and I can understand if you don't want to be with me after this–"
"I will never leave you," I state firmly. "Never."
Shaking her head, she tries to pull her hands away from me, but my grip on her hands tightens.
There is no way in hell I'm letting her go.
I wish there was some way to make her believe that.
"What happened?" I ask.
There is silence, during which she stares at her friend's tombstone while I stare at her.
"She had a wish," she then begins, taking a deep breath in. "She wanted to see London, but she couldn't because she was too sick. She knew how much I wanted to go to London to find mum, so she tried to persuade me to run away with her. I didn't think it was a great idea, but she was so persistent. She even refused to take her medications and... Seeing her get worse was heartbreaking, so I finally agreed."
Tears drip from her face and I use my thumbs to wipe away the wetness on her cheeks.
"She looked so thin and sickly," she continues. "But her will was strong, and I guess that's why I went along with the plan. We managed to sneak out of the dormitory in the middle of the night without getting caught. We left about an hour before a nun was scheduled to do the round, but I underestimated the amount of time it would take for us to reach the coach stop – Bonnie struggled to walk and we had to move at her pace. By the time we reached the coach, we realised that she forgot her medications. There were twenty minutes left till the coach was going to depart, so I decided to quickly run back to St. Anne's and bring her medications. I was so stressed about the time constraint that I forgot about the round, so when I entered the dormitory, I was caught by the nun on duty. She saw that Bonnie's bed was empty and she demanded her whereabouts and..."
She bites her lower lip in an attempt to suppress her cries.
"...and I lied," she finally completes with her voice breaking. "I told her that Bonnie was in the bathroom and that she had asked me to bring her medications. The nun bought it, and continued on with her round, but I couldn't sneak out until her round finished. By the time I reached the stop, the coach was already gone."
No...
"I was never so scared and panicked in my entire life," she says. "The schedule said that the next coach would arrive in the morning, about six hours later, so I waited at the stop. Bonnie and I decided way before that if one of us were to be left behind, the other would wait at the London stop until that person arrives. When the coach came into view, Sister Alexa found me. She told me that Bonnie's body was found on a pavement... frozen and... lifeless."
She then bursts into tears and her body trembles violently. I pull her onto my lap and wrap her in my arms, gently stroking the top of her head. I whisper soothing words to her, but that has no effect on her. Her sobs grow louder and it pains me to see her in this state.
Of course it would hurt me.
I feel for her.
It breaks me to see her breaking down like this.
We stay in this position - her cocooned in my arms and me cradling her. I do not register how much time goes by, but it doesn't matter to me.
Even if she needs me to hold her for an eternity, I'd do it.
Slowly, her tears stop rolling down her cheeks. She stares at the tombstone with a blank expression, sniffing occasionally.
When the sun begins to set, she finally breaks the silence.
"I remember not being able to move – not being able to breathe," she says in a hoarse voice. "It was like my whole world had stopped. When I was brought back to St. Anne's, the nuns barraged me with questions, watching me with accusing eyes. The nun who was on duty – the one who caught me – called me a murderer, and then many people started calling me that. And I never denied it – I couldn't deny it because I believed them. I was – I am – the one who killed her."
Before I get the chance to refute her claim, she continues to speak.
"Bonnie's death has haunted me for years. I couldn't eat or sleep. There were countless times when I'd wake up in the middle of the night screaming. I had nightmares where I'd be standing over Bonnie's dead body, with her blood dripping from my hands. If I had just told the truth that she was in a coach, about to leave for London, she would've survived."
"You are not a murderer," I say firmly.
She shakes her head, but I lift her chin to make her look at my unwavering eyes.
To think that, all this time, Dorothy has been living with this guilt – that she has been allowing herself to believe that she is a murderer – is excruciatingly heartbreaking. She does not deserve to feel like this.
"Your intention was pure and noble," I continue. "You wanted to fulfil your dying friend's only wish."
"But she died, Reece," she croaks. "I should have listened to my brain rather than my heart. If I hadn't lied, she would have lived longer. She would have died with me by her side – warm and surrounded by the people she knew. Not on some cold and wet pavement alone."
"You did exactly what she wanted you to do," I say. "You said it yourself that she was very persistent – to the extent that she was harming herself by not taking her medicine. You were what? Thirteen?"
"...Almost thirteen."
"You were so young, Dorothy. That's a lot to take in for someone at that age. You knew that she was dying, yet, you continued to stay by her side and love her as if she were your sister. You did nothing wrong – you only just wanted to fulfil her wish so that she can die in content."
"I was supposed to do what was best for her," she says. "It was my responsibility as her sister to–"
"To keep her happy," I complete for her. "Tell me, was she happy after you agreed?"
"...She was."
"Was she happy when you two sneaked out?"
"...She was excited."
"If you hadn't agreed to run away with her, she would have been miserable, no?"
"She would have."
"Did she say anything to you when you were in the coach with her?"
She nods slowly.
"What did she say?" I demand.
"She thanked me. She... She expressed how much she loved me and how excited she was to finally see London..."
She then shakes her head, as if she is discarding what she has just said.
"But that doesn't matter, Reece," she says. "What matters is how she died. Did she die in fear? In pain? In isolation?"
"No one can know the answer to that, Dorothy," I say. "In a scenario like this, one should only look at this optimistically."
There is a pause of silence, during which she purses her lips, lost in her thought.
"...They found her body near the Royal Albert Hall," she whispers.
"That's a ten-minute walk away from Kensington Palace!" I say. "Barely a five-minute walk away from Imperial."
"Even though she was weak and dying, her will was strong enough for her to get there. That was the one thing I always respected and loved about Bonnie – she was a fighter up till the moment she died."
"Have you ever thought of the possibility that she was perhaps happy and relieved to finally be in London before dying?"
She stays silent, pondering over my words, before she shakes her head.
"You did not kill her," I tell her, kissing the side of her forehead. "You are not a murderer. You are not responsible for her death in any way. You are innocent, Dorothy."
"I'll never deny it," she says.
"Then I will deny it for you," I say, adamant.
She buries her face into my chest.
"Is this why you always speak the truth?" I ask.
She nods.
"Normally, people would learn the importance of being honest through allegories, like The Boy Who Cried Wolf," she says. "I learnt it by living through her death."
Then, she slides off my lap and caresses the carved name on the stone.
"I promised her that we'd study at Imperial together," she says, continuing to stare at her friend's name. "Even though she's not here, I still want to go to Imperial and, afterwards, I want to find a cure for AML. That is my mission – my dream."
I smile at her goals and at her determination, resting my hands on her shoulders.
"Then your dream is my dream," I say.
She turns her head to look at me with wide eyes.
"I will always be by your side to support you," I add.
"You still want to be with me?" she asks.
"Forever and always," I say. "I'd want to be with you in a hundred different lifetimes, in a hundred different worlds, in any version of reality. No matter what, I'd find you, choose you, and stay by your side, Dorothy. Forever and always."
She looks so vulnerable, as if she could shatter at the slightest touch.
"You promise?" she croaks.
"With my life."
Immediately, she throws herself onto me, hugging me as if it were the last time. I return her hug, gently patting her back.
"I love you," she murmurs into my shoulder.
"I love you," I reply, tightening my hold on her.
"Don't ever leave me, ok? Don't ever let me go. I've already lost you once and I barely survived. If I lose you again, I don't think I'll be able to live through it."
"You won't lose me," I assure her. "Ever."
She continues to clutch onto me tightly, and I let her. I want her to believe that I am here for her. Through the good, the bad. No matter what.
I then look at the tombstone. Internally, I thank Bonnie for being there for Dorothy when I was not around. I thank her for being the accomplice, friend, sister and confidante that Dorothy needed. I also send my sympathy for how she and Dorothy got separated.
After paying our respects to Bonnie, Dorothy and I walk back to St. Anne's, talking more about Bonnie. When I see Dorothy, colour is being drawn back to her face and her voice is becoming less hoarse. She holds onto my right hand, as if she'd lose me if she lets go.
"What do you miss about her?" I ask.
"Her dorky laugh," she says, smiling. "Her wild imagination. Her craziness. Her witty comebacks. Everything about her, really."
We continue to talk, but, from a distance, I spot a silver car. A very familiar silver car. The headlights of the car blink three times, catching Dorothy's attention.
"That's weird," she says. "Cars are rarely seen around here. I wonder who it is."
I shrug, continuing to walk along the path with her.
***
When we get back to the accommodation, I make sure that Dorothy is fine. I fix her a sandwich and sit with her at the dining table as she eats. Even though she claims that she has lost her appetite, I push her to finish eating it. When she finishes eating, she inquires why I'm not eating.
"I'm going to go out for a jog," I reply.
Her green eyes watch me in curiosity before a small smile makes its way to her face.
"You're not using that as an excuse to run away from me, are you?" she says.
I shake my head, bringing her left hand to my lips.
"Why would I run away from the love of my life?" I reply, before kissing her knuckles and making her laugh softly.
"Don't stay out too late, then. We have a bonfire to catch afterwards."
Twenty minutes later, I am jogging along a path that is lined by trees on both sides, until a beam of light shines on me, with the brightness increasing. I stop, and so does the silver car behind me. I turn around, squinting at the bright headlights until they switch off. The door opens and a large figure steps out.
"Dave," I say, catching my breath.
He approaches me until he stands in front of his car. He is wearing a black leather jacket and blue jeans. The numerous rings on his hands and his bald head glint under the moonlight.
"This game of 'hide and seek' has to end now, Reece," he says, crossing his arms. "And why the hell is Chris not with you? Do you have have the slightest idea of the likelihood of getting attacked?"
"By what? Cows?" I scoff.
"Hey hey, that is not a joke. Do not underestimate the cows, Reece. About 80 people get attacked by cows every year."
"Now you're just making shit up."
"I'm not!"
"Whatever," I sigh. "How did you even find me?"
"I had a lovely catch up with Linda," he says.
"Of course," I drawl.
"I'm here to take you back."
"I'm not going back."
"We need you."
"Tell Daniel to cover for me."
"Daniel is not you, and there is only so long that you can suffer from a 'cold'," he says, making air quotes at the word 'cold'. "Look Reece, It's just a matter of a few months–"
"I only have a few months to experience normalcy with her."
"Then tell her, Reece. You're going to tell her eventually, so just tell her now. That way, it'll give her time to adjust–"
"No," I say, adamant. "She's not ready. She'll freak out."
"Well, either way, I have no choice. You're coming with me–"
"I'm not leaving her," I growl.
Dave rubs his temples, sighing.
"Look Reece," he begins, dropping his hands to his sides. "I get that you love her, but we have to finish what we started."
"This is the only chance I have to build my relationship with her without any distraction – without anyone meddling in my personal life."
"But you have to understand that what we did – everything that we worked so hard for – will go to waste. You have to think less about yourself and more about us–"
"Hell, Dave!" I burst. "Did you forget that there was a time I wanted to write down what I felt, but my paper would always be empty? That that could not have described my feelings any better?"
He stays silent.
"For years, I have been living with this... this void in my chest. My eyes would ache at the amount of unshed tears that's been building up over the years. I'd sleep at night, thinking that there is nothing worth waking up for. I'd drink like hell just to escape reality. Until Dorothy. Did you forget all of that, Dave?"
"I haven't forgotten about that, Reece. You know that I haven't."
"Then why the hell are you speaking like you have?" I yell.
He then emits a long sigh, approaching me until he stands right in front of me. He rests his hand on my right shoulder.
"...I didn't want to tell you this," he says. "But your grandfather is onto us. We found one of his men trying to break in."
Fury ignites inside of me at this revelation.
That old man has the fucking audacity to breach our privacy.
"Why did you hide this from me?" I snap.
"Because I know that you'll retaliate."
"I will retaliate."
"And you really shouldn't, because if you do, your grandfather will find out and he will use it against you. We need to lay low until the time is right, and the right time will come a whole lot sooner if we finish what we started ASAP."
"But Dorothy..." I find myself saying.
"If you get caught, then it'll be difficult for you both to continue your relationship. You told me that Dorothy has already been through enough. The least you can do for her is to try to make it easier for her to stay with you."
...I hate that he's right. I hate that all of this tension is coinciding exactly when Dorothy and I are finally starting to build the foundation of our relationship.
"Where do I have to go this time?" I ask, pursing my lips.
"Paris," he replies, excited. "I've already got our business class tickets booked. We'll be staying at a 5-star hotel, with the best view of the Eiffel Tower–"
"How long will we stay there for?" I ask, not caring about the luxury.
"We fly on Monday morning and come back on Sunday night."
"A whole week?!" I gasp in disbelief.
He raises his hands in surrender.
"Hey, you only have yourself to blame for that, Reece," he says. "If you hadn't ghosted me the last couple of weeks and actually worked as you were supposed to, three days would have been more than enough."
What am I going to tell Dorothy?
How will I be able to cope with not seeing her for a whole week?
"I'll go," I sigh.
"You better keep your word."
"I will," I say. "I'll go back to London tomorrow with Dorothy. You don't need to stay here."
"Fine, but I'm leaving Chris–"
"He's here?"
"Well, I can't leave my nephew to fend for himself. Cows are scary creatures–"
"Goodnight, Dave," I say, before I jog past him, not giving him a chance to utter another word.
*~*~*~*~*
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