Page 54 of AMS.TER.strum

Klap eens in je handjes blij blij blij

Op je boze bolletje allebei

Twee handjes in de hoogte

Twee handjes in de zij

Zo varen de scheepjes voorbij

I blink to clear the sheen from my eyes, and when I look at the screen again, it’s not Corrie and Otto that I see anymore; it’s Mom, holding my much younger self, singing the scheepjes, her arms going higher and higher every time, while I’m laughing my head off.

Where was Dad? Working at the recording studio he owned with a friend right until we left? Watching us and sharing our happiness? If he was, what happened to those memories he is rapidly losing? Am I the only one desperately holding onto them? Are the ones I’m far too young to remember lost forever?

‘He was more tired than he thought.’

Corrie’s voice surprises me. She has switched the screen for me to see Otto sleeping on the couch, covered with one of the soft blankets I sent them a few months ago. It warms my heart to know they are surrounded by little things I sent over.

‘Are you okay?’

‘I zoned out for a moment. That song…’ I swallow down the pebble in my throat. ‘My mom used to sing it to me. And with Dad’s condition deteriorating…’ Why isn’t the damn pebble moving? ‘It’s hard.’

My hand rises to my neck, where the chain holding Mom’s ring is hanging. I press hard on the pins holding the purple stone, and Corrie notices.

‘The ring is back?’

I haul a breath. ‘I’m extra careful to not lose it. But with Dad… I need to have it close. I know it’s silly, but it’s like having Mom close.’

Her eyes have taken a deeper hue of blue, like a million lilac flowers I would like to dive in and stay there forever. ‘It’s not silly. I’m so sorry, Luuk. It’s…moving fast?’

That’s one of the many things that suck in an incurable condition, besides the obvious—that there isn’t and there won’t be any improvement. One doesn’t know how to refer to it, ask about it, without indirectly asking how close to the end the person is.

I nod at Corrie to let her know the bad days are taking over the good ones. I don’t know whether, from a scientific point of view, it’s fast, but for me, witnessing my dad’s devastation is like watching a wildfire burning everything I hold dear.

The two reminders that not all that’s good is lost are my music and Corrie. So I smile at her, grateful she’s here to brighten my days, even if it’s through a screen.

‘On a more positive note, I am writing music.’

Her whole body perks up. ‘That’s amazing! Anything I will whistle to soon?’

I love that she remembers my promise from almost four years ago. ‘Not yet.’

Actually, there are things she could whistle to. Only I’m not ready for her to listen to them yet, because… they’ll probably sound too familiar; and I’ll be totally naked in front of her.

‘Looking forward to it. I’m sooooo gonna name-drop, when you become a big deal.’

I tilt my head to the side. ‘I’m not already?’

‘You are, Luuk,’ she says without missing a beat, face all flushed. ‘But the world doesn’t know it yet.’

Corrie

We manage to chat for almost an hour, before Ada stirs, and Luuk yawns. ‘My turn now.’

I cast a glance at a sleeping Otto, whose eyelids are now twitching. ‘It’s late, you’ll have to get some rest, get your creative sleep.’

‘Are you getting any sleep?’

Do not lean into his concerned eyes—that hazel pulling me in like the safest, most comforting room. Do not read too much into this voice—that wraps around me like one of the fuzzy, ever-so-soft blankets he sent for the kids.