One Last Miracle [complete]

VII

[The whole point is that it's supposed to be awkward. So if it is, great. Just clearing that up]

VII

three months, ten days...

As it turns out, I'm able to hold of the meltdown.

It's imminent, I know, but for the time being I allow myself the delusion that I'm okay. Even if it's the furthest thing from the truth. Instead, the second I got home, I was able to immerse myself in the ASL book.

As far as languages go, it isn't a hard one to learn. It makes sense on some levels. It's nothing but visual; you don't have to focus on learning how to write or talk. You just move your hands. When you're weak from cancer, that part becomes a little more complicated though.

That said, I've only managed to pick up on the letters of the alphabet. And of course, a few select words: like telling someone to F-off and say hello. (Suffice to say, I won't using to first one anytime soon).

What they don't warn, however, in the book is that it's so easy to get wrong. One single movement can be the difference between swearing at someone and telling them they look pretty.

"Alyson?"

At the sound of Rick's voice, I jump. He's standing in the archway that divides the kitchen and lounge room, shifting from foot-to-foot. Wordlessly, I place the book beside me on the couch, remaining cross-legged.

"Yeah?"

He walks into the room. The ice-cream in his hand drips onto the hardwood floor, but he doesn't seem to notice. "Do you want something to eat? Dad's making some cookies."

Mutely, I shake my head with a sigh. I might as well be a shard of glass, I'm treated that fragilely. "I'm good. I might get something later."

Rick nods, taking a bite his ice-cream. "Cool." He practically runs to sit next to me on the couch. His grin is so huge, I'm momentarily taken aback. "Can I give you a present?"

I move the ASL book to the stand beside the couch so he can scoot closer. "It's not my birthday. Or Christmas."

He rests his head on my shoulder, sighing. "I know. But mum gave me money... and I got you something."

Knowing him, it might be anything. Mum would've known though, so I know she's got the docket for it somewhere. Returning it will be a last resort and I'll try to avoid it. But, anything... literally means anything. "Sure."

He doesn't waste time racing off the couch and out of the lounge room.

Alone once more, I look to the TV. Avatar is playing, the volume nearly all the way down. I put it on with the intention of watching it, but it got boring very quick. So far the last two hours, I've been reading instead.

In the kitchen, I can hear dad moving around. There's the occasional curse—no doubt from burning himself or dropping something—but other than that it's mostly silent. With mum at work and no longer hovering around me, I can keep to myself and not worry about being under constant surveillance. I know dad's making any excuse to give me some space, though he wants nothing more than to be sitting with me; checking that I'm okay.