Thursday, 3 p.m.
It's been five days since I asked Blake to help me with the list. Five days since I discovered all of the contraband in Grant's room. I haven't been able to stop thinking about my arguments with Grant. I think I've been too harsh on him. I need to cut him some slack because I know that this can't be easy for him.
I'm trying my best to make everything as normal as possible.I went to school Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but didn't feel up for it today. Grant still checks up on me at school, being the caring brother that he's always been, but he doesn't say much. We just walk together and have small talk.
I want to ask him about his room but also don't want to risk him blowing up in the middle of the school day. We used to be able to tell each other everything, but ever since I got diagnosed, we haven't talked like we used to. I miss it. I miss talking to my brother.
I also miss talking to Elise. She would know how to handle this situation. She would know what to say to make me feel better.
Cancer ruins everything.
And to top it all off, I have an appointment with Dr. Khan this afternoon.
My mom told me enough is enough, and that we can't avoid the doctor forever, or it looks like child abuse. Once I turn eighteen, it won't be. I'll be an adult, capable of making my own decisions.
I'm not sure if I'll move out.
Who am I kidding?
I'll probably be gone by then.
Gone, as in dead.
I've come to terms with it.
I don't have anything to live for.
My parents will get over it, and it'll most likely make Grant stop this nonsense. Elise will find someone new to call her best friend and hopefully someone who loves her. The rest of my friends will move on, and tell their kids about the poor girl who got cancer and died their senior year. Blake will be shocked, but he will get over it as well. A year or so after I pass, everyone will come to terms with it, and they'll eventually forget about it. They'll forget about me.
And I'm okay with that
I've been thinking about it all day, and I realized that I haven't said my goodbyes to everyone. Well, maybe not goodbyes, but just letting people know how much they mean to me. It's something I need to do.
I realize that my appointment is in a few hours, and head to the bathroom to take a shower.
The hot water burns my exposed back.
It hurts, but I don't move. I don't have the energy to move. I can feel my weak self slipping away.
I'm so tired.
My body aches.
I reach to turn off the water.
My legs give out, and I fall onto the floor of the shower.
I'm so dizzy.
I just want to fall asleep.
This feels nice.
I hear someone walk into the bathroom and shout something. I can't make out what they are saying, but they sound frantic.
They shouldn't be scared.
I'm ok.
"I'm ok," I whisper with my last bit of energy.
Then everything goes dark.
Is this it?
I feel myself being lifted.
Am I going to Heaven?
Am I dead?
This is it.
It feels so good.
It feels like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders.
It feels sweet and warm.
Wait
No
I
Want
To
Go
Back
I don't want to die.
I haven't said my proper goodbyes.
I need to do that.
Then I can finally let myself go.
Then I can leave.
I just need to say goodbye.
I fight against the pull upwards.
I fight with every fiber of my being.
All I can do is, hope that it works.
——————————————————————
As soon as I open my eyes, a flood of relief rushes over me.
I'm okay.
I'm in the hospital.
I'm alive.
Although, this time I'm missing the company of my family, and instead I'm surrounded by doctors and nurses.
"She's got a pulse!" One of them shouts.
I look around and recognize the ER of the same hospital where I was diagnosed. The same hospital where I have an appointment today. I must've been in a different wing before because I do not remember having no windows and the lights being so bright.
Suddenly, a nauseating feeling takes over me. I start to cough up something. This liquid coats my throat and makes me feel like I'm drowning. I grab my neck and try to gasp for air.
Then, a rush of vomit comes up.
I throw up all over my clothes and the bed. It's mostly pills and liquids. I haven't been able to keep down much more than that. A nurse quickly rushes out of the room and doesn't come back. I wonder if he doesn't like the sight of vomit.
If so, he shouldn't be a nurse.
Slowly all of the people trickle out until there is only one nurse left. She starts to help me. She checks my temperature.
"You feeling okay sweetheart?" She asks with a soft voice.
I nod, not being able to talk yet. The acid from my stomach has rendered me mute. She puts my arm around her shoulder and helps me to the bathroom.
"I'm going to get you cleaned up," She explains.
As soon as my feet meet the floor, I feel so weak. I feel like fainting.
Luckily, she gets me to the shower before I give out.
"What's your name?" I ask her while closing my eyes as she turns on the water.
"My name is Krista," She says.
"Krista, such a pretty name," I respond.
"Thanks," She chuckles.
I open my eyes to take a look at her and realize that this girl can't be much older than me. She looks like she's in her mid-twenties. She's pretty tiny but, I can tell she packs a punch.
I like her already.
"That other nurse that ran out," I start, "Where did he go?"
She processes the question as she lifts my arms and wraps me with a towel.
She walks over to a cabinet and pulls out a fresh hospital gown.
"Derek got a page in the middle of your code so, he had to leave early," She explains.
"Are you sure he just doesn't like the sight of vomit?" I ask with a sarcastic tone. She uncomfortably laughs but, I can tell she's still focused on my state.
"Are you sure you're okay?" She asks, "We thought we lost you there for a second."
I feel awful. Nothing in my body is working properly right now and, my immune system is going against me.
But I tell her I'm okay.
I tell everyone I'm okay.
I never mean it.
After she dresses me and puts some socks on my feet, she helps me back to the bed. I rest my head on the pillow as she looks for a vein to start my IV.
I don't want an IV.
I want to get out of this God-forsaken hospital.
I want to leave and never come back.
I cringe at the sting in my arm.
She hands me a lollipop.
"Thanks, Krista," I tell her.
She looks at me with pity in her eyes. The same look everybody gives me once they find out I'm sick. I'm tired of it. I wish people would see beyond the fact that I have cancer.
I'm still a person. I still have feelings and opinions. I'm not incompetent.
"You need anything before I leave?"
I need to get out of here.
"No thanks, I'm okay."
Another lie.
"Okay sweetie," She says.
"Can I send in your family?"
I nod even though I'm not ready to see them. They are probably worried sick.
If the roles were switched, and Grant was in the same position, I would be freaking out. I try to think about it that way when I can't find a reason for the way he copes.
But, I would never turn to cigarettes or alcohol as a solution. That's something we don't have in common. As someone who's felt what it's like to be so close to death and fear it, I would never do anything to speed up that process.
When the door opens, three of my favorite people are standing under it. My mom looks exhausted, as always. My dad looks like he's been worrying too much about this hospital bill, and how we are going to make ends meet this month. He's likely tired from the double shifts he's been taking. Grant looks like he's in shock. His eyes are bloodshot, and he has tears streaming down his face.
I smile, making the atmosphere less depressing.
It doesn't work.
They all walk over to me and hug me one at a time. When it's my mom's turn, she rubs my head in a soothing way and plants a kiss on my cheek.I shudder at the warmth of her lips. I didn't realize I was freezing. I pull the covers up to my chest and try to keep warm.
My mom looks at me and sighs, "You look like you haven't eaten in days, honey."
That's because I haven't.
"I'm okay, mom," I say, "Really."
Ignoring me, she calls for a nurse to bring me some food.
"Mom, I swear I'm okay, I don't want any food right now."
"You need food to build up your metabolism so your body can become stronger," she argues.
"Rachel, she said she's not hungry," my dad says.
"She's not going to get better if her body is starving!"
"You can't just force the child to eat," He raises his voice.
"I'm okay," I say, but no one can hear me over my parents yelling.
I look around the room, trying to spot Grant. I find him sitting in a chair in the far left corner of the room. He looks high or intoxicated, falling in and out of consciousness. His eyes were probably red from whatever drug he's taking.
It hurts me to see him like this. To see him destroy himself over what's happening to me. I hope that he can get on the right path, and soon.
Do my mom and dad not see what's happening in front of them?
They have a daughter who's struggling to keep the family together whilst on the brink of death. And they have a son who is so wasted, that he can't keep his head up straight. Grant raises his phone to his ear as if he's getting a call.
He instantly perks up once he hears what the person is saying and takes off in a hurry.
Great.
He's left me alone with two bickering parents. The funny thing is that they didn't even notice him leaving the room. They're so busy trying to prove their point, that Grant is exempt from all punishments.
They probably won't even notice me leaving the room either. I carefully pull the IV from my arm.
I wince from the sharp tug, but I've got no time to waste if I want to see where Grant is going. I grab my bag of belongings, and slowly head out of the room, tiptoeing carefully.
Once I slowly close the door behind me, I realize that nothing can distract my parents from the argument they are having. They probably won't notice for a while that Grant and I are missing.
I strategically shift through the hallways, making sure to stay out of sight from any doctors passing by. If Dr. Khan finds me roaming around, he's going to throw a fit.
Once I get to the elevator, I press the emergency stop button and change into my sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Then I start the elevator again, and wait until it gets to the lobby. As soon as the doors open, I'm met with a busy lounge and phones ringing left and right. How am I going to find Grant in this craziness?
I search the crowd until my feet feel like they're about to fall off, and I start to feel lightheaded.
Where could he be?
I push open the glass doors of the hospital entrance to get a breath of fresh air. The cool wind surrounds me as soon as I walk outside.
I close my eyes and allow myself to be refreshed by the environment. I hear laughs in the distance and recognize JJ's voice. JJ has been my brother's best friend since I can remember.
When our moms' were pregnant, they had the same due dates for Blake and JJ, but they were born three days apart. Ever since birth, they've been inseparable. We were practically raised with JJ. When they were little, Grant and him had plans to go to college together, and build a gym.
I see a group of boys standing next to a red mustang convertible towards the end of the parking lot.
The closer I get to them, the stronger the scent of alcohol and tobacco gets. They shouldn't be doing this in a hospital parking lot. Grant immediately moves his beer bottle behind his back once he sees me heading towards them.
"Brynne?!" JJ spots me, "What are you doing here?"
I walk closer to them after he waves me over.I stand in between two boys. One seems to be drunk because he's looking me up and down and licking his lips. The other looks, and smells like he just walked out of a fish market. I could vomit right here, but I withhold myself.
"So what's the goody-good Brynne Foster doing at the Richmond State of the Art Hospital?" JJ raises his eyebrows.
I have to come up with something and quick, or else they'll suspect somethings up.
"I was volunteering in the children's wing," I look him in the eyes.
He's the one who's getting Grant into all of this crap. He's a horrible influence, and it's ruining Grant's life.
"Whoa, you've been getting lit as shit," the fish market dude says as he grabs my arm.
I pull away and realize that he's talking about the blood running down my forearm. I guess I didn't see it after I pulled my IV out.
He thinks I'm a druggie.
Great.
"What kinda stuff are you into?"
If I tell him I don't do any drugs, he'll ask me why my arm has an injection mark, and I'll have to come up with another lie.
"Coke," I respond quickly and regretfully.
"Dang Brynne, I didn't know you were such a daredevil," JJ chuckles.
Grant scoffs louder than necessary, and it makes my blood boil. He needs to keep his mouth shut.
Just as I am about to leave, Grant pulls out a cigarette and puts it in his mouth as he flicks the lighter underneath it.
I can almost see the fury in his eyes.
Why is he mad at me?
What did I do to him?
He doesn't look like himself anymore.
I want him back.
I want my brother back.
I pull the cigarette from his mouth and squish it with my foot. He looks at me with more anger than I thought possible.
I give him a sincere look, in hopes that he will see I'm just trying to help him.
"Come on Grant, let's get out of here," JJ intervenes.
Grant looks at him.
And then at me.
I can see him contemplating making the right choice.
Come on Grant, don't go with them.
He spits on the concrete near my foot, and turns his back towards me as he walks away.
I've lost him.
My Grant.
My brother.
My protector.
He's gone.
I walk away.
There's nothing to live for.
It keeps on repeating in my head.
I can see my breath in the cold December air.
I breathe.
In and out.
What am I supposed to do now? I tried to reason with him, but he's too far gone. I've probably missed my doctors appointment. I can't go home because my parents will drag me back to the hospital.
There is only one place I can go.
I have no choice.
I go to the entrance of the hospital and wave down a taxi. I feel the rush of heat against my body as I enter the car.
"Where to, miss?" The driver asks.
"Woodland Heights," I respond.
I put my head on the window, and watch as the snowflakes begin to fall from the sky. They take my hope with them as they fall into a uniform white blanket. Forgotten and untraceable. Safe and at peace. I close my eyes and imagine myself as a snowflake. I press my forehead against the cold glass, and for a second, my mind is blank.