Three Months

Chapter Nineteen

“Wake up.”

            Jude’s steely voice rouses me from my sleep. Slowly, I begin to sit up but soon realize that it’s not as easy as I thought it was going to me. It’s not exactly the easiest feat in the world to move after sleeping on plastic all night. Sleeping in the café booth probably wasn’t the best idea, but both of us were too tired to go anywhere else.

            Once I’m sitting upright, Jude grins at me. He appears to already be awake; he most likely woke up bright and early. “Sleep well?” he asks tauntingly.

            “You know I didn’t,” I say to him, sleep still evident in my voice. I lean back, causing my spine to crack in a good way. “Worst beds ever.”

            “Well, it’s not exactly a real bed,” Jude says matter of factly. “You can’t expect it to be comfortable like one.”

            “You got a point there, but a girl can dream.”

            I then ask Jude what time it is, and he tells me that it’s 11:30. I’m surprised that the people who work here allowed us to stay the night. Then again, they’ve allowed Jude to stay the night before. Everything is kind of a blue to me—everything being last night. I remember having that heartfelt conversation with Jude, and that’s about it.

            The pain that was in his words last night is a reminder to me that I’m not the only person in this world who’s sick. There are others who are suffering from cancer as well as myself. Jude’s little sister Jess is an example of that.

            “So what’s the plan for today?” I ask Jude.

            He turns his attention away from the wall, which I don’t find fascinating one bit, to me. “I was thinking we could visit my sister.”

            “The one in the hospital?”

            “The very one.”

            I nod my head slowly, agreeing. “Alright. Whatever you want to do.”

And that’s how Jude and I decided that we were going to pay a visit to the hospital today. I prayed to God that we wouldn’t run into Linda, because now wouldn’t exactly be the right time to tell Jude about my cancer. Not that there ever really is a right time. There will never be a right time for something like that.

            In the waiting room, there are a few people. There’s a family of three with a son and a daughter. The son is cradling his arm against his chest, and it’s not difficult to see that it’s seriously injured if not broken. Why doesn’t anybody help him? Shouldn’t he get immediate attention? Anybody with eyes can clearly see that his lip is trembling, and he’s trying his best to hold back his whimpers.

            Jude pulls me up to the front counter, but my eyes linger on the family. I wish somebody would help them. They look like they deserve it.