Message in a Bottle

Chapter Twenty
“There’s something I want to do today,” Ben finally said while we ate breakfast. It was as if he were lost in thought this whole time and suddenly he remembered we were here.
“What is it?” Mom asked.
“I want to take a walk on the beach. Maybe go up to the lighthouse?”
“Ben, you’re so weak,” Mom began.
“I know,” he responded quickly. “But I don’t care.”
Without further dispute, mom and I gave in. If it was something he wanted to do, then so be it. And in plus, it was something he hasn’t done since dad left us and we all knew very well that he missed a simple walk on the beach.
After breakfast we got changed for the walk. Instead of wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants I decided to go for a light yellow blouse with white shorts and flip flops.
“So what brought this on?” Mom asked as she pushed Ben’s wheelchair along the shore of the beach. Mom made a compromise with Ben, that we’d go for a walk on the beach if he used his wheelchair. Without a fight, he gave in. It seemed that all he really wanted was to be on the beach.
It was a nice day out, the sun out and shining, it wasn’t so humid as it usually was, and there was a slight breeze that filled my lungs with that fresh ocean scent. Ben seemed absolutely serene as he strolled through the beach. As he breathed in the air, he’d smile a smile that brought on tears.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I missed this place. I forgot how beautiful it was. The last time we were here-”
“We were picking seashells with your father,” mom finished.
“It seems like just yesterday,” he murmured.
“Time flies by too quickly,” I added.
The rest of the way to the lighthouse was calm and tranquil. The beach was absolutely empty with no signs of tourists, laughing children, or disturbance of the sand and it seemed like it was cleared just for us.
“Do you want to stay here for a couple minutes?” Mom asked when we got to the lighthouse.
“I want to go up,” Ben said, determined.
“Ben, you can’t go up there. The stairs are so long….”
“Just this once,” he pleaded.
“Ben, mom’s right. The only way you’d get up there is if we give you a piggyback ride.”
“I don’t need a piggyback ride,” he said, jumping out of the wheelchair, taking his cane.
“Ben, no,” Mom and I protested. He refused to listen to us and walked through the doorway.
“I’m a grown adult. I can make my own decisions,” he said, pushing us away with his cane.
Mom and I succumbed. There was nothing we can do and what Ben said made us realized that we’ve been treating him like a child and not like the adult he was. We knew he was having a rough time with the cancer but that came with disabilities out of his control. He was never able to have a decent girlfriend, go to college, party hard, get drunk, start working, get his own recording contract like he hoped, get his own home, and be independent. Independence was the one thing that meant the world to him because all his life that’s all he’s ever been until cancer took that away.
We were hardly a sixth up the stairs when he started getting weaker with each step. He then let my mom and I help him up the stairs because he knew very well that he couldn’t make it himself. Mom and I took turns carrying Ben up the stairs and along the way he’d say he was ready to walk on his own and it wasn’t very long until we had to carry him on our backs once again.
“Here we are,” I said, letting Ben down from my back.
He walked over to the railing of the lighthouse that overlooked the ocean unsteadily, sweat dripping down his face.
“It’s so beautiful,” Ben whispered out of breath.
Mom and I decided to let Ben be alone as he stared out across the sea but we didn’t stray too far.
“This really means a lot to him,” I said to her.
“It does. I kind of makes me tear up just knowing that this will be his last time up here.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before it spilled over.
I wrapped my arm around her, comforting her.
The sound of Ben’s coughing alerted us and we rushed over to him. He was clutching the railing, trying to stay up right.
“Ben, are you all right?” Mom asked.
Then he fell to the floor, coughing wildly.
“Ben!” we cried, running over to him.
“There’s something I need to tell the both of you,” he said before he was interrupted by more coughing. “You’ve always been a great mom,” he said, looking over to mom. It seemed like he was using all his strength just to keep his purple eyelids open.
“Ben, don’t,” mom whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Morgan, get some help.”
Before I stood up he grabbed my arm, pulling me back down. “It’s no use,” he croaked.
“Don’t do this,” I whispered, pursing my lips together. “Let me get help.”
“Mom, can I speak to Morgan alone?”
She looked over at me, her eyes red and I was sure mine looked the same. I nodded at her and she stood up, walking away.
“Morgan, you’ve been a great sister. You were always there when I needed you and I know that there’s times when you wish things were the other way around and I was protecting you from harm’s way but I need you to understand that I always appreciated what you did for me. At times it might seem like I hate you but I need you to know that I’ll always love you and maybe someday your Prince Charming will come back to claim his princess,” he smiled. “Mom is going to need you more than ever and you’re going to need mom. She’s reaching out to you but there’s times when you won’t seem to take her hand. But maybe it’s not her that needs your hand, maybe it’s you that needs her hand.”
I smiled at him, tears rolling down my cheek. “I love you, Ben,” I whispered.
“Give me a hug,” he said, stretching out his arms.
“Goodbye, Ben,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. The words were so hard to say, let alone think. It made me feel dizzy, like my world was crashing down on me but at the same time I felt… safe. The way he hugged me was the way I’ve always wanted my older brother to hug me. Like he loved me and was always there for me and that’s exactly how it was. He was always going to be here for me even though I don’t have him the same way I will at this very moment.
“Goodbye, Morgan.”
After our last embrace he asked me to get mom. He wanted to tell her his last words. I sat on the ground on the other side of the lighthouse, my legs pulled up against my chest and my head resting on my knees.
After five minutes the silence of the lighthouse was broken with a sharp gasp.
I sprung to my feet and ran over to my mom where she was crying into Ben’s chest.
“No!” she cried. “Benjamin!”
“Mom,” I cried, running over to her and falling to my knees beside her. She threw her arms around me, sobbing.
“He’s gone,” she cried. “He’s gone.”
We laid there on the ground beside Ben until someone came up to the lighthouse and found us. The ambulance eventually came and brought him down.
There was no point trying to revive him in the ambulance but they still tried. Mom and I knew very well he was gone.
We sat outside Ben’s room in the hospital while they ran some tests. I stayed close to my mother because I knew she needed me…. And I needed her.