Me-Before-You-by-Jojo-Moyes

Four hours later I had the beginnings of my list.
And nobody mentioned the Judy Blume. Mind you, that was probably because
I had used my sister’s library card.
On the way home I nipped in to the stationer’s and bought a calendar. It
wasn’t one of the month-to-view kind, the ones you flip over to reveal a fresh
picture of Justin Timberlake or mountain ponies. It was a wall calendar – the sort
you might find in an office, with staff holiday entitlement marked on it in
permanent pen. I bought it with the brisk efficiency of someone who liked
nothing better than to immerse herself in administrative tasks.
In my little room at home, I opened it out, pinned it carefully to the back of
my door and marked the date when I had started at the Traynors’, way back at
the beginning of February. Then I counted forward, and marked the date – 12
August – now barely four months ahead. I took a step back and stared at it for a
while, trying to make the little black ring bear some of the weight of what it
heralded. And as I stared, I began to realize what I was taking on.
I would have to fill those little white rectangles with a lifetime of things that
could generate happiness, contentment, satisfaction or pleasure. I would have to
fill them with every good experience I could summon up for a man whose
powerless arms and legs meant he could no longer make them happen by
himself. I had just under four months’ worth of printed rectangles to pack out
with days out, trips away, visitors, lunches and concerts. I had to come up with
all the practical ways to make them happen, and do enough research to make
sure that they didn’t fail.
And then I had to convince Will to actually do them.
I stared at my calendar, the pen stilled in my hand. This little patch of
laminated paper suddenly bore a whole heap of responsibility.
I had a hundred and seventeen days in which to convince Will Traynor that he
had a reason to live.