Michaelishious - Vol. 2022

Dec. 12th: One last wish

Author's note:

Michael is not famous in this oneshot.

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I just came back from the hospital with another disappointing result. Mom tried to comfort me the best she could, but both of us knew it was best not to say much. She was struggling just as hard as I did to keep from breaking down, and I knew she did her best to be strong for me.

I hated being the one causing my parents so much grief, just like it devastated them that they couldn't do anything to help me. Not other than offering me all the love and support possible. My blood values had been stooping the past few months, and now my body was too sick to handle another round of chemo. It was pretty tragic. I was a nineteen-year-old girl and was supposed to have a whole life ahead of me, yet here I was, counting the days until I had to move into hospice. I didn't even know if I survived until Christmas.

Mom stopped at the porch right before she unlocked the door. She looked at me and I saw the sorrow and defeat in her eyes until she closed them and pulled me in for a hug. She didn't say the usual phrase that was supposed to make me feel better. "We're gonna get through this, Amira. I promise." It wasn't true. It was too late and both of us knew it.

"I'll make some lunch," was the only thing she said, and her voice was thick with emotions. I didn't have the heart to tell her I wasn't hungry, so I just nodded.

"I'll be in the garden."

I had a special place between two old plum trees where I used to sit in the shade. My grandfather had built a bench there, and though it was old, it still did its purpose. And somehow, I felt nostalgic sitting there. Two days after I'd seen him drive in the last nail, he had a massive heart attack and died. I was eight then, and it was my first experience with death.

"I'll see you soon, gramps," I whispered after sitting in silence for a while. My hand stroked the rough surface of the withering planks where the red painting was faded and partially worn off from one too many winters. Sometimes it felt like sitting here was the only thing that could comfort me. It was like I could feel him sitting next to me, holding my hand, telling me I had nothing to be afraid of. I would be safe when my day came and he could open his arms and give me my wings, just like he was waiting for my grandmother. I only wished she could go before me. Then I felt terrible for being so selfish and blinked away a couple of tears.

"Hey. Are you okay?" I suddenly heard a little further away, and I recognized the boy next door. Although boy... Michael had grown into a really handsome man who played quarterback on our school. He was a year older than me, and he was a straight-A student and a heartthrob that made all the girls swoon.

I used to be quite popular too. I had good grades until I started struggling with double vision and terrible headaches. And that's when the doctors found out that I had a brain tumor that now had spread to my lymph system and my one of my kidneys. Now I didn't have the energy to go to school at all, and it felt like I'd already lost my life, even though I was still here. I missed my friends and social life like crazy, but was too weak to do anything about it. So when Michael suddenly peeked through our hedge, my initial thought was that I didn't have the energy to talk.

"You're Amira, right?"

I nodded and looked at him. He had a beautiful smile and kind eyes. Mine were hooded and my skin was pale. He was strong as a bull, while I was fragile like a dry leaf. It wasn't fair.

"I saw you arrived, and you looked so sad. Is there anything I can do to help?"

I sighed and mustered up a tiny smile.