THE ULTIMATE STANDER

Chapter Two

The familiar feeling of sadness tugged on my heart as I stood behind the door to aunt Mae's ward. My tattooed fingers tightly gripping the door handle. Just three years ago was she hale and hearty, until she began to develop and show symptoms. Ever since then, her illness grew worse with no hopes of getting any better.

Heaving a melancholy sigh, I pushed open the door and entered. I stood at the foot of the bed while I watched the nurse tuck aunt Mae in.

"Hey um, how's she feeling," I asked the nurse once she was finished.

She glanced back at aunt Mae's sleeping figure. "Other than her illness, she's doing fine. She eats, drinks, and takes her meds. But," she paused to sigh, "she really has to undergo the surgery. It's the only way she can be better."

"I-I know and trust me I’m working on it."

"Alright. But you better act quickly."

I continued to stand at the foot of the bed while the nurse exited the room. I stared at my aunt's sleeping face, it looked worse than yesterday. It broke my heart to see her that way. She was the only family I had left. The only person I grew attached to after my father and mother passed on. I couldn’t bear to lose her too.

I watched as she stirred in her sleep, until her eyes flickered open. They scanned the room for a few moment before they rested on me.

"Phoebe? Is that you?" she asked, before her bluish discolored lips twisted in a smile. "When did you arrive?"

"A few minutes ago," I replied, moving over to her side to take the outstretched hand. I held it lightly as I sat down on the vacant chair. "Nurse said you're eating and taking your meds. That's a good sign."

She managed to chuckle. "You think I'm recovering? Since I'm going to die, I figured I should at least have something in my belly. Can't have a rumble tommy when crossing over to the other side."

Aunt Mae chuckled softly at what I supposed to her was another death joke. However this joke didn't seem funny to me at all. Ever since she became sick, I had noticed that she joked a lot more about death. As if death meant nothing to her. Like it was something to not be afraid of. One time, she had asked me to try and guess what color of wings and halo would suit her as an angel. Another time, she had told me how she wondered what the grim reaper would actually look like.

"Could it be a female or a male? Could it be skeletal as they say? " she had said.

Aunt Mae noticed my silence and gave me one of her bright smile. However it just didn't seem as bright as it used to be. "It's okay, Phoebe. As much as I hate to, we just have to let go."

"No, aunt Mae," I stated. "I'm not gonna let you die. The only thing holding us back is the money and I'm gonna get it no matter what it takes."

"Or how long it takes?" she requested, still wearing the smile.

"I'm not giving up. I promise you that."

••••♦••••

I was wiping off food stains on table four when the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer. I pivoted to see three dudes laughing their way into the restaurant. The one leading the other two was wearing a black shirt and ripped jeans. The one by his left was wearing a red hoodie and a pair of cargo pants. While the last one by his right wore a green jacket over a white shirt and a pair of jorts.

They took their seats in the booth at the table behind me. I looked over to the counter, Mike, my boss, nodded over to the new guests. My cue to go take their orders. I sighed, walking over to their table as I flipped the towel in my hand onto my right shoulder. On arriving, I dipped my hand into the front pocket of my apron and withdrew a notebook and ballpoint pen.