My Dad's Best Friend

Chapter 20

The last week has been tough, to say the least. I started cemo early Monday morning and by the time it was over i was absolutley exausted. Like all of my energey was drained by me sitting down all day while having chemicals injected into me. 

The first day, Monday, my father took off work to stay with me. The only time he left my side was to go to the bathroom or to get me food. Grant and Debbie visited after school and work. I still have yet to talk to my father about Debbie. Yet with everything going on, thats the last thing he needs to hear. 

Tuesday they gave me nausea medication, dad said i was turning white. I felt that way too, i could barely keep my eyes open i was so exauhsted. I felt like i was going to throw up so they took more blood to run more tests and made me eat more cookies and drink more orange juice. 

Wednesday Luke visited. Dad said he would give us some time alone. 

"Are you scared?" He asked me. Looking at the IV in my arm. I'm not scared to die, if that's what he meant. I'm not scared of the cemo getting me sick. I'm not scared of losing my hair or scared or losing my mind. The only thing I'm scared of is when people stop come visiting, when Luke gives up. When he doesn't want to care for the sick girl anymore. 

Thursday the nausea medication kicked in, thank God. I started feeling better than I have in a long time. Luke and Grant came to visit after school and brought Jenga. I always hated those types of games, but something about playing with them made it somehow bareable, enjoyable. 

That brings us to today, Friday. My first day without cemo and i haven't gotten out of bed once. It hurts too much. Luckily everyone understands, Debbie brought me breakfast in bed this morning and I'm still constantly thanking her throughout the day as she brings me refils of tea. 

"Do you need anything else?" She asks. I shake my head 'no'. She just smiles and leaves. Everyone has been so kind, so loving. 

Why do i feel like such a burden? I feel like I'm ust a weight on everyones shoulder that they can't lift. I'm a side effect. Thats why dispite everyone treating me so well, i still feel like somethings wrong. 

I hear a knock on my door, i turn my head over to face where the noise is coming from. I was starring at the ceiling, which is a common habbit i've been having lately. 

"Feeling better?" Luke asks me, leaning against my door frame. I sit up from laying down, pulling my knees into my chest, to make more room on my bed. He sits down at the end of my bed and lays his hands on his knees. 

"If one more person asks me how I'm doing or if I'm better...I was never bad so how could i get better?" I ramble. I don't like snapping at Luke, him and Grant are the only ones i hate yelling at. Of course i've gotten sick and if he was talking from a health perspective i would say I'm feeling a little better but still feel exauhsted. Maybe he was talking in a health sense, but I'm not. 

I'm talking in a mental sense. If im being honest with myself, things were terrible. I didn't have a relationship with my father. The only relationship we really had was when i was yelling at him or he was yelling at me. Before, i was invisable. Now, everyone is sufficating me with 'Are you okay's and 'Feeling better's? 

In a sense, I'm thankful they care. 

I also just want to be left alone to be a side effect and die in peace. 

Luke just give's me a strange look, like he's waiting for me to explain myself for snapping at him. 

"You would think I'd be happy or thankful for everyone being so kind..." I mummble. 

"But you're not." He finishes for me. 

"No, I'm not. And it sucks because I'd give anything to be happy, absolutley anything. But I'm...I'm dying." I say for the first time outloud. It sounds much more morbid spilling out of my lips. 

"You're not dying." He smiles, "You just have a little cancer." He pokes at my side. 

"Actually, the cancer is up here." I tap at my forehead. When his smile fades i bring my hand up to his mouth to force a smile. He laughs and i can't help but giggle along. 

Our laughing dies down and the room becomes a little too silent. 

"Remember when we first met?" I ask, laying back down, he brings his body next to mind and lays himself down next to me. 

"How could i forget? You were a raging bitch." He turns his head to me and shows me his big sarcastic smile. 

"Awww really? Thank you! I really do try." I shoot back a sarcastic tone and an even bigger smile. 

"But seriously! Do you remember?" I ask again, more seriously.

"Of course I do. Wanna know what i remember more?" He raises his eyebrow at me. 

"What?" 

"Our first kiss." He smirks. I can't help when my cheeks become hot and i imagine they're a rosey red color. 

"You kept calling me a child. It made me so mad." I smile at the memory, "You kept pushing me away." I finish, wondering if he would still push me away. Wondering if he would still slam a door in my face. 

My question is answered when he slams his lips into mine.