Falling Slowly

Chapter Ten: As If Things Couldn't Possibly Get Worst

Chapter Ten: As If Things Couldn’t Possibly Get Worst

The sun’s brilliant warm rays seeped through the curtains as I opened my sleep crusted eyes. Pulling the coverlet over my head to block the gleaming sunlight I peek over my nightstand and read 8:37 in bright purple neon numbers. I groaned into my pillows and after a long minute unwilling emerged from my warm cocoon.

I stretched feeling the muscles in my body stronger – well stronger than they normally were. I breathed in the distant smell of batter in the air as I slipped on my favorite pair of pink fluffy pig socks. As I bounded down the stairs there was a bounce to my step. For once in weeks I felt great and not at all weak or sick. In the entrance hall I glanced at my reflection and saw that there was a little color to my cheeks.

I was fortunate to have a blood transfusion every month. It was expensive, but my parents did everything that they could to keep me stable and alive. I would feel great and lively for a few days after the blood transfusion until my body began to regress once more, and I became pale and weak.

Stop being negative, a voice coaxed inside my head. Enjoy the day while you have it. Go frolic in the sun.

I shook my head and smiled. Like I would really go out and spend the day in the sun. I would do what I always did on Sunday and that was practice my piano and lounge around with Mr. Cuddles with a book. What I had told Liam wasn’t so far-fetched from the truth.

The smell of chocolate chip cookies assailed my nostrils as I walked into the kitchen to find Mom baking. There was a smidge of flour on her cheek, while strands of hair escaped her messy ponytail. When she saw me enter her brown eyes lit up with joy. “Want to help, sweetie?”

I nodded and ran to grab an extra apron of the hook and draped it over my neck. It was Dad’s white apron that said Kiss The Cook in large blocked red letters. Mom had gotten it for his birthday last year. I was tying the apron around my waist when the sound of doorbell rang.

“Anya!” Dad called from the den. “Will you get that?”

“Yeah, Dad!” I called back. I turned to Mom and asked, “Are you having company over?”

“Not right now. It’s too early.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I wondered who could be at the door. The door bell rang again, breaking through my thoughts and I dashed out of the kitchen to answer it quickly. I was expecting one of Mom’s friends from the restaurant or Ms. Berkert. She was always paying us a visit on Sunday morning’s and had a cup of tea with Mom.

But my guesses were wrong when I opened the door to find an uncanny visitor.

My eyes widened in shock and I shut the door in his face. My heart was beating erratically in my chest as I realized what he was doing.

You’ll have to ask my father.

 I see.

Shoot!

He was here because of me! He was here to ask my Dad for permission! No, no, no, no. This could not be happening. It was absurd to think that he was here because of me. He probably just wanted to get a cup of sugar for his dad because….he was also making chocolate chip pancakes. Yes, that was it!

Who was I kidding? That was the epitome of pathetic excuses every created on earth. Why would he want sugar from us when he could ask Mrs. Davis, his neighbor for some instead of walking down the street to my house? Yeah, that made sense.

There was a light knock on the door that jolted me from my thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I slowly opened the door to find Liam grinning.

“Is that how you greet all your guests?”