I move to get up, and she clutches my hand harder than I would have thought her capable of. “Don’t leave.”
So, I press the call button.
The nurse comes in, and I ask her to get the rest of Jo’s family.
Alone again, Jo just gazes at me through narrow, heavy eyelids. “Before they get here…” She smiles at me, lopsided. “Kiss me.”
I bend over her and touch my lips to hers. “I love you. It’s crazy, but I do.”
“Not crazy.” She clutches my hand. Her lips brush mine. Her eyes meet mine. Footsteps echo in the hall.
“We have forever together, now,” she whispers to me. Smiles.
“Forever together,” I murmur back. “I like the sound of that.”
Homecoming
Jolene
I’m in the hospital for another month, recovering. I’m transported to two other hospitals that have MRI machines capable of detecting even the most granular of cancer cells, where I undergo more tests than ever.
Miraculously, each one comes back negative.
I’m still weak. My body had fought harder than could be fathomed, and I nearly died. How, no one can explain with anything like medical or scientific certainty, but at some point when no one was looking, the cancer just…vanished.
In that month I spend recovering, Westley finishes principal filming; once he’s reassured the miracle is here to stay, he allows me to force him out of the hospital and back to work.
The embarrassing thing is, I discover, while browsing on my phone, that the video of me on the set ofSingin’ in the Rain, alone at first and then with Wes, has beaten my own record for most views in some specific time period. Everyone everywhere is talking about it.
Also, there’s a TikTok trend going viral, featuring the song I wrote and performed for Wes, in the studio. The trend is for people to share their own heartbreak, their own trauma and tragedy, followed by their recovery and restoration. Some of the stories are truly heartbreaking, others have happy endings, some are still up in the air. Still others flip the trend upside down and post funny stories in juxtaposition to the soul of the song.
What I can’t figure out is how that song got out into the world. Last I knew, Wes was the only one who’d heard it.
I search my own name, and get a result: an EP published by BritPark Music, LLC.Captured Voices: Jolene Park & Westley Britton in the Studio.Published…while I was dying.
He published it?
I listen to it from start to finish, and I realize why.
It’s a microcosm of us, of our love and our journey. And honestly, my song really is the culmination of the whole thing.
But still, he didn’t tell me?
I’m not sure if I’m mad, confused, proud, grateful, or some weird mix of each.
Later in the evening, Westley returns from the last day of filming, and perches on the edge of my bed—and god, am I eager to be out of this damned hospital bed.
“Hi,” he says, looking tired but pleased.
He leans in for a kiss, and even though my emotions are a riotous tumult, I kiss him back. He can sense my unease, however.
“You okay?” he asks.
I hold his gaze, unspeaking, and play the most viewed TikTok in the #StartAgain trend, featuring my song. Then, I switch the music app and show him the EP, with the photo of us as the album artwork.
His eyes widen. “Holy shit, Jo. I never told you.”
“Yeah, no you didn’t.”
