[June 14, 2019]
As I step off the bus on the last week of school, the air is filled with a contagious excitement. The atmosphere is charged with the energy of impending freedom, and laughter echoes from every corner of the schoolyard. My eyes catch a glimpse of the hockey boys, a tight-knit group of friends, engaged in playful jokes.
I spot Trevor, one of Jack's best friend, and I hurriedly make my way toward the group. As I grab Trevor's arm, he turns around, his initial exuberance fading into a more serious expression as he registers my presence.
"Trev, where's Jack?" I inquire urgently, a note of concern lacing my words.
His shoulders rise in a nonchalant shrug, but there's a hesitation in his gaze that doesn't escape my notice. I glance at the other hockey boys, hoping for some clarity, but their expressions remain guarded, their lips sealed.
"Please, he's not even answering my texts, and I tried to call him. He didn't come to school two days in a row," I implore, desperation creeping into my voice.
Trevor avoids my eyes, his gaze shifting to Cole. In a hesitant gesture, he raises his hands in surrender, offering a vague explanation. "He's probably planning the draft for this week. I don't know, Morgan, we're all leaving tomorrow. I'm pretty sure he'll be there today." He gives my arm a gentle pat, attempting to offer reassurance, before turning away to join the departing group as they head inside.
Left standing alone, a mix of worry and frustration swirls within me. The impending departure for the summer break and the elusive whereabouts of Jack create a sense of urgency. I'm left with a lingering uncertainty, hoping that Jack will surface soon and that the last week of school won't be shadowed by the mystery of his absence.
As I step into the bustling school corridor, my eyes catch sight of him in the distance, surrounded by friends, his laughter reverberating down the hall. Relief washes over me—thank goodness he's here.
I head straight to my locker, stashing away books and belongings, taking a sip from my water bottle. With each passing moment, I can feel the nervous energy building up inside me. As I close my locker, I take a deep breath and make my way toward Jack, determination and anxiety coursing through my veins.
"Can we talk?" I ask, my voice steady despite the nervous cracking of my knuckles.
He nods, excusing himself from Turcotte with a curious expression. Concern etches his face as he looks at me, his gaze searching for any signs of distress. "Is everything good, baby?" he inquires.
A shaky breath escapes me as I muster the courage to speak. "Could you maybe come to my house later today? I have to talk to you," I manage to say, my voice revealing the gravity of the matter.
"You're scaring me, but yes," he responds, his concern deepening. "Actually, meet me outside the school at the end of the day, and I'll drive you home."
The bell rings, signaling the end of our conversation, and he leans in to kiss my lips, a comforting gesture that lingers even as we part ways. "Wishing you a good day," he whispers, his eyes reflecting a mix of worry and affection.
As the final bell echoes through the corridors, signifying the end of the school day, I make my way outside to meet Jack at his car, which his dad generously provided. The sight of him waiting there is a welcome relief in the midst of my exhaustion.
"Godamn, it was a long-ass day, eh," he grunts, his expression mirroring the weariness of the hours just passed.
Nodding in agreement, I join him, slipping into the passenger seat. The familiar scent of leather envelops me, offering a brief respite from the challenges of the day. The engine purrs to life as Jack navigates the school parking lot.
"I'm so excited for the draft, babe!" Jack exclaims, his enthusiasm palpable. He punctuates his excitement by playfully punching the steering wheel, letting out a loud "wooo."
I force a smile, attempting to match his enthusiasm, but the weight of the news I need to share lingers in the air. The contrast between his infectious excitement for the upcoming draft and my own heavy heart creates a poignant atmosphere within the confines of the car. As we drive, the road stretching ahead, I brace myself for the conversation that awaits, knowing that the energy between us will soon shift from jubilant anticipation to a more serious and somber tone.
"You look so pale, M. Is everything great?" Jack asks, his brow furrowing with concern as he reaches to turn down the volume of his radio.
"I need to tell you something really important, Jack," I confess, my nerves causing me to chew on the inside of my cheeks.
His face remains calm, his eyes focused on the road, but the anticipation in the air is palpable. Jack waits patiently for me to continue with my announcement.
I attempt to fight back tears, but the emotions well up inside me. Jack turns into my street, parking his car in front of my house. Nervously, I start pulling on my little cuticle, and in my anxious state, I accidentally draw blood from my thumb. An involuntary "ouch" escapes my lips, and Jack looks at me with a concerned expression, his worry deepening at the sight of my distressed state. The gravity of what I'm about to share weighs on both of us, creating an atmosphere of tension.
"Tell me, Morgan," he pleads, the concern etched across his face.
With a heavy sigh, I lift my hand, pointing to the small, mole-like spot on my skin. "See this," I say, my voice quivering. "It might be cancer. I have to run some tests, but the dermatologist was really concerned about it."
Tears stream down my face, and I watch as Jack's entire demeanor changes. His face drops, and he turns away, unable to meet my gaze. The vulnerability of the moment is accentuated by the fading daylight outside the car, casting a subdued glow on our shared uncertainty.
"Are you serious, M? Cancer?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid the words will become more real if spoken aloud. "But he didn't confirmed it right. it could be something else" he adds trying to find a more positive outcome.
"I wish it were that simple, Jack," I reply, my voice trembling. "The doctor wants to run more tests to be sure, but the way he looked at it, the uncertainty is eating me alive."
My throat tightens, making it difficult to speak. The silence between us grows deafening, and Jack remains silent, his strength seemingly drained. He can't bring himself to look at me, and the emotional distance between us deepens with each passing moment.
I attempt to find the right words amidst my tears. "I'm not ready to face that. I just turned eighteen. It can't be real," I burst into tears, the weight of the situation overwhelming me.
Jack finally turns to me, his eyes filled with a mixture of helplessness and a desire to comfort. He pulls me into a tight embrace, his arms offering solace in the face of the harsh reality. "Morgan, we'll face this together. I won't let you go through it alone," he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion.
I pull back slightly, meeting his gaze through tear-filled eyes. "Jack, I never thought I'd have to face something like this at our age. It feels like my whole world is crumbling."
Jack cups my face gently, wiping away the tears with his thumb. "I know, M. It's unfair, and it's terrifying. But we'll figure it out. We have each other, and that's not something we'll ever lose."
"I don't know what to do," I confess, my voice a fragile admission of the overwhelming emotions swirling within.
He responds with a conflicted expression, mirroring the internal struggle he's undoubtedly grappling with. "You need to go to college, and then we have so many plans—my career, where we're going to live," he articulates, his words carrying the weight of a deep breath. "LA or Florida? You'll come with me, won't you? We're destined for a happy life, with kids, and you'll take my last name. There are so many beautiful moments ahead for us," he insists.
"But what if..." I begin, my voice tapering off as the harsh reality threatens to overshadow our plans.
"No 'what ifs,' Morgan. We'll find a way through this. You'll beat this, and we'll live the life we planned. You're not facing this alone," he declares, his voice unwavering.
A mixture of gratitude and sorrow fills me. "I want that future, Jack. But right now, I'm scared, and I don't know how to navigate all of this."
He reaches for my hand, offering a reassuring squeeze. "We'll take it one step at a time. Let's focus on getting you better. The rest will fall into place. I promise."
Jack's rationalization echoes the challenges and uncertainties that lay ahead, emphasizing the difficulty of balancing personal aspirations with the unexpected responsibilities that now confront us. The depth of our connection and the shared dreams we once had stand in stark contrast to the complex decisions that must be made in the face of an unplanned disease.
I see a tear running down his cheek, and it breaks my heart.
Desperation fills my voice as I make a plea, a plea not just for a decision but for a promise. "Promise me that you will not leave me alone, Jack."
His whispered response carries the weight of commitment, an anchor in the storm of uncertainty. "I will never leave you alone; we will get through this together," he promises, sealing it with a tender kiss on my forehead. The warmth of his lips is both a reassurance and a silent acknowledgment of the challenges ahead.
The air inside the car becomes charged with the rawness of our emotions, and Jack's next words pierce through the heaviness. "I already promised you that one day I'll marry you, and we'll have two kids, or even three. I want to live with you for the rest of my life, Morgan."
My heart aches witnessing Jack's tears, and I reach out to gently wipe them away with the pad of my thumb. "I love you, Jack," I whisper, the words carrying a promise of support and understanding.
The car feels like a cocoon of shared vulnerability, and as our fingers intertwine, Jack's gaze remains fixed on mine. "I don't want to lose you, Morgan," he admits, his voice a fragile whisper.
[June 23, 2019]
[ The door creaks open, and the oncologist, clad in a white coat, enters the room. His eyes lock onto mine, and there's a mix of professionalism and empathy in his gaze. As he settle into the chair, holding a folder that undoubtedly contains the critical diagnostic information, I brace myself for the revelation that awaits.
"Hello, Morgan. I've reviewed the results, and I want to go over them with you," the oncologist says, his tone measured but compassionate.
I nod, my throat suddenly dry as I await the news that will define the path ahead.
"We've identified a small cancerous melanoma," the oncologist explains, his words a delicate dance between medical terminology and human connection. "It's rare to diagnose this type of cancer at your age, it's usually above 20 years old. The good news is that it's localized, and we can proceed with a surgical removal. However, there will be follow-up appointments to ensure your overall health is stable."
"What's the next step?" I manage to ask, my voice sounding more fragile than I intend.
My mom nod to the doctor with her hands over her mouth.
The oncologist outlines the treatment plan, discussing surgery and potential follow-up procedures. "It's crucial that we work together through this process," he says, emphasizing the collaborative effort required.
As he explains me the processus, his voice become non-audible to my hear.
After running a couple of tests, I received the results we all hoped wouldn't come to pass – I have a cancerous melanoma. The silver lining, if it can be called that, is that it's a small one. The doctor assured me that he could remove it without any issues, offering a glimmer of relief in the midst of the unsettling diagnosis. At least for now, there's a plan for treatment and safety. ]
I can't stop but replay this scene in my head.
Jack has been a constant presence, a pillar of support during these challenging days. His empathy and care manifested in a cute brown teddy bear with a green bow, a symbol of comfort that stood by my side through the emotional turbulence.
The days have been a haze of rest and recovery, my body and emotions both seeking solace in sleep. Fatigue, both physical and emotional, has taken its toll, and the teddy bear Jack gave me has become a tangible source of comfort, a silent companion in moments of solitude.
My mother, understanding the gravity of the situation, has been a source of strength and compassion. Her efforts to help me navigate through this difficult time have not gone unnoticed. Even though it's hard for her too, she finds the strength to set aside her emotions to support me in overcoming this challenge.
The teddy bear, now a cherished keepsake, serves as a reminder of the strength found in the bonds of love and understanding. In these quiet moments of recovery, surrounded by care and compassion, I find the space to reflect.
Therapy sessions has become a welcomed refuge, providing a space for healing and introspection.
Although circumstances prevent me from accompanying Jack to the Draft, I eagerly watch it from home. The air is charged with anticipation, and my heart swells with happiness when Jack is announced as the first overall pick, drafted by the New Jersey Devils. His achievement becomes a source of pride not only for him but for our shared journey.
Unable to contain my joy, I immediately text Jack upon hearing the news. I pour my feelings into a heartfelt message, expressing gratitude for being part of his life. Despite the recent challenges, the pride and happiness I feel for him transcend the difficulties we've faced. Jack's resilience, kindness, and passion shine through, making him a source of inspiration.
Onscreen, the proud smiles of Ellen and Jim, Jack's parents, echo the sentiments in my heart. Their pride becomes a shared celebration. In this moment, I catch a glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel, and thoughts of our future together become a source of hope and motivation for the days ahead.
Recollections of my brother's draft day surface, a celebration of his dedication and talent. The familiar thrill of seeing a loved one recognized for their hard work evokes a sense of nostalgia and warmth. The Rangers' colors, the excitement in my family's eyes, and the culmination of years of dedication replay in my mind.
...
In this chapter, you journey into Morgan's past.
This one leans towards the sadder side, but I assure you, it won't always be this way.
The next chapter will also take you back in time.
Much love, xx