Chapter 1

Introduction to Aleyna Baldwin and a little of her life at the hospital.

Chapter 1

    “On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in?”

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that same stupid question. Hmm, well if I’m screaming in pain, is that an eight, nine, or ten? If I just have a slight tinge of pain, is it even a one? 

The annoying thing about this: the nurses won’t give you any pain medication until you tell them which number you are currently feeling. 

Today as I sit on the bed in my hospital room, I’m not in any pain, or at least not in enough pain to be labeled on this ridiculous scale. I get my blood pressure tested, my temperature taken, and head out to get weighed and measured like a slab of meat in a butcher’s shop. I then head back to my own room to get my blood labs done.

I am living at the hospital until I get a new heart. Or until I die, which is more likely since I haven’t been in remission the required five years. Who would have thought I could beat the odds yet another time? Not only was I one of the forty girls that got Ewing’s Sarcoma, but now my heart is dying too, which is only in only one of those forty cases.

I sit while the nurse takes my blood, and she rambles on about her life. I pretend to listen while I think of what to put next on my bucket list. My dad doesn’t like the fact that I even have a bucket list because he says I’m “giving up hope.” My psychologist says it’s good for me because it could “help me through the process.” 

Yes, I have a psychologist, and yes, they’re as awful as they seem. I’ve never been huge into sharing my feelings, and obviously that’s all he wants me to share.  My dad was convinced I was depressed because I spent most of my time cooped up in my room after treatments, I pushed away most of my friends because of embarrassment, shame, fear of being a burden, and who knows why else. Now that I have openly accepted and stated the fact that I’m going to die, he got me a psychologist. I guess he has a right to be paranoid, being my dad and all. But the thing is, I’m not depressed; I’ve just come to accept the fact that life is short, and mine is just going to be cut shorter than most. 

My psychology appointments are nothing I look forward to. They are full of constant questions like, “How do you feel about that?”, “What are your thoughts on this?” You know, the basics. The psychologist reads into everything I say whether I mean anything by it or not. 

Don’t get me wrong. Having a psychologist isn’t all bad. I mean, for one I get to see someone else besides my usual doctor and nurses. Secondly, I have the appointments in his classy office, which is a change of scenery from my bland room. You'd think they would try to make the other rooms prettier here, since much of the time it’s the last view people have before they die. But no"plain white walls, white beds, white bathroom, you get the idea. 

And the smell! I can’t even begin to describe how awful the smell is here. Just the thought of it makes me sick. The nurses have tried to help by masking the smell with peppermint oil, but now my room is just a gross mixture of that disgustingly clean smell and peppermint. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. I doubt that anyone does.

After taking my blood the nurse leaves, and I grab my bucket list notebook and lie back in my bed. I have a few things on it that will never happen, but I put them on anyway. Here’s what I have so far:

1. Have a Lord of the Rings Marathon.
2. Watch All of the Movies at the Hospital.
3. Read Harry Potter Series in 1 Week.
4. Raise a Duckling.
5. Drink Champagne.
6. Eat Something Exotic. 
7. Watch the Ball Drop on New Year’s Eve.
8. Be on TV.
9. See a Sunset in Greece.
10. Fall in Love. 
11. Kiss Someone in Paris.
12. Get Married. 
13. Change Someone’s Life.

I’ve completed none of these, though I’m currently working on watching every movie here at the hospital. I figured this one is a good one to start with since it’s slightly more achievable than most of the others. I grab my IV rack, walk to the movie room, and stare at the selection. I started with A a few weeks ago and am now on 

D. I grab the next one which is an old, stupid-looking version of Dracula, and I begin to walk back to my room. 

I’m reading the  back of the case when I step into a puddle of some unidentified substance and slip backward. I squeal as I fall flat on my butt, Dracula goes flying, and a random guy that appeared out of nowhere grabs my IV rack to keep it from falling. 

“God! What’s your problem? Watch where you’re going!” he grumbles.

I look at him in shock and sputter, “Excuse me? My problem? What’s your problem?”  

I mean seriously? I’m the one on the ground in a puddle of who-knows-what with an IV up my arm, and he’s asking me what my problem is? God. Some people…! Wait a minute, I feel like I know him from somewhere. Gosh, where is he from? Is it" 

No. It can’t be!

“I’m kidding, that was totally my fault.” He smiles. “Well, partially, I guess, because you weren’t exactly watching where you were going, either. Are you okay, by the way?” 

I look at him in frustration. Oh, god, it is him. His name is Wesley, but I know him as Wes. We were best friends in 3rd grade until about 6th grade when he became a jerk. In 9th grade, he used to make fun of me for being bald from my cancer treatment. He seems different now. Older. Stronger. More handsome…

I almost roll my eyes at where my thoughts traveled.               

He stretches out his hand to help me up. 

I stare at his hand and mumble a quick “I’m fine, thanks”, then get up without his help. 

Suddenly registering what he said before, I’m confused, “How was it your fault, anyway? I stepped in it, and I slipped and fell. It’s not like you dumped it out in front of me.”

He grimaces. “Well, technically I did.”

“What?”

“I guess in a way it was sort of Doctor P’s fault.” he explains.

“Doctor Pepper?” So that must be what the liquid is. Better than what first came to my mind.

He laughs. “No, Doctor Pracken. He startled me around the corner, and I dropped my coffee. I had just grabbed a towel to clean it up when I saw you slip.”

“Oh. Got it.”

I squeeze out the coffee from my sweats, and stand in awkward silence until Jennifer, one of the nurses, finally rushes over to make sure I’m okay. She checks my IV as I reassure her that I’m fine, and now that confusing male is standing there with a now broken DVD case in his hands and a ridiculous smirk on his face. To my annoyance, he tells Jennifer that he will walk me back to my room, and she leaves before I can object. He turns back to me and flashes a teasing smile.

“Really? Dracula? Isn’t this like the oldest version you can get?” He skims the back. “Nineteen-thirty-one. You must like your oldies.”

Defensive, I counter, “There’s nothing wrong with old movies, and this happens to be a classic.”

He comments, “A terrible classic at that.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not the one watching it then, isn’t it?” I try to grab it back, but he pulls it away and holds it just out of my reach. He’s got to be at least six feet tall.

“Oh my gosh, are you five? Just give me the stupid movie and leave me alone!”

“So you agree it’s stupid, then?”

Okay, this isn’t worth it. I roll my eyes, give up, and turn away. He’s that same annoying, immature jerk that he was in high school.

He stops me, “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Here.” 

He starts to hand me the movie when I turn around, but pulls back and says with a smirk, “Only if you let me watch it with you.”

“I thought you said it was ‘terribly stupid’,” I retort with a mock imitation of his voice. He seems to think he can get any girl to do whatever he wants, the vain idiot.

“It is. I just want to make sure you don’t have to suffer alone with this masterpiece of a movie.” He gestures to the movie, but the case slips from his hand and my bucket list DVD shoots out of the case and rolls away. Our mouths drop open as a hospital volunteer rolls the snack cart right over the DVD. 

I stare in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me!” 

“I guess even she thinks it’s bad,” he chuckles.

“Oh, shut up. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”  

“Nowhere that can’t wait.”

I roll my eyes, walk over to the now broken DVD, and pick it up. Of course, now I can’t even complete one of the simplest things on my silly list. As I stare at it, I start to tear up. I quickly blink them away, realizing I’m being ridiculously emotional over a trivial thing. 

His demeanor changes completely to genuine concern, and he asks,“Woah, hey. You okay?”

I don’t answer because it’s such a stupid thing, and I’m already fed up with myself and him. I don’t even look over at him. I just stand there, staring at the DVD with my jaw clenched, wanting to chuck the thing at his head.

“Seriously, it’s not worth watching.” He tentatively takes a step closer.

I glare at him in annoyance, jerk my IV rack away, and start walking towards my room.

“Hey, come on!” he calls.

I keep walking.

“At least tell me your name?”

In disbelief, I stop, but don’t turn around. “You seriously don't recognize me?”

“What?” 

I roll my eyes. “You already know my name. Heck, you already know me.”

“Um, sorry?”

He honestly doesn’t remember? 

I tell him, “Think back to high school.”

“Um…”

I sigh and turn around, and he still seems confused.

“How about I refresh your memory,” I suggest. “Freshman year? Pool party.”

He c***s his head to the side.

Really? He must have no memory or brain whatsoever.

“I jumped in the pool, and my wig came off,” I bitterly finish.

Recognition fills his eyes. Finally! It took him long enough.

He smiles in disbelief. “Baldwin?”I mockingly bow and flash a sneering smile. “Glad to hear I’m remembered.”

I turn on my heel as he pleads, “Hey, come on! That’s not what I meant.”

I clench my jaw, continue walking, and I hear him sigh and call out, “I guess I’ll see you around, Aleyna?”  

I pause after I close my door as I realize that he hasn’t called me by my actual name since 6th grade. I almost liked the way it sounded coming from him. Oh, god. What am I thinking? He’s a stupid selfish jerk!

I walk over and sit on the window seat. I feel so stupid. I never used to cry in front of anyone, and I almost broke down over a stupid movie from my silly list. Maybe I can blame it on my slowly approaching death. Or maybe I'm actually depressed, and my dad was right to be worried. Either way, I need to just suck it up. I don’t want to start pitying myself again. I’ve been through that already, and that was bad enough then. I curl up and fall asleep with tears trickling down my face.

*  *  * 

I open my eyes to see my dad lying on my bed. Well, this seems backwards. 

“Hey, Dad.”

He turns his head and smiles. “Hey, sweetie. You doing alright?”

“I’m okay.” I smile. “How was work?” 

He shrugs. “I suppose it went well. The students weren’t as crazy today, so my patience wasn’t tested.”

I laugh. “That’s good.” 

My mind clears more from sleep, and I ask, “What time is it?”

“Just past five,” he replies.

He then gets up, sits on the window seat with me, and ruffles my hair. “So what did you do today, Ley?”

“Well, I gained two pounds, I’m the same height, and my blood looks unchanged.”

He smiles. “Did you watch any new movies?”

“No, the one I was going to watch was unfortunately destroyed.”

He laughs. “Destroyed? Care to elaborate?”

I grin. “Long story short, it was dropped and crushed.”

“Well, that is unfortunate.” He smiles. “What’s the next one on your list?”

“I’d have to look again. Whichever one is after Dracula.”

“Well, why don’t I grab some popcorn and fruit while you grab the movie?”

I smile. It seems like he has finally accepted the idea of me having this bucket list. “Sure. I’ll go get it in a bit.”

He kisses me on my forehead and goes to get the snacks. I watch him leave and smile. I’m lucky to have a dad like him. I slowly get up, grab my IV rack, and head to the movie room for the second time today. 

As I search the shelves again, it looks like I’m on the movie called, Dragonslayer, which looks like another really old movie, 1981. 

I grab the movie and head back to my room"this time actually watching where I’m going. I half expect to see Wes, but I have no such luck. 

Luck? What am I thinking? He’s a jerk. I mean, yeah, I guess he’s definitely not hard on the eyes " muscular, tall, dirty blond hair, a killer smile. I realize how looks can be so deceptive. Look at him!

As I return to my room, I realize I never changed out of my coffee-drenched sweats. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself and thinking about that gorgeous idiot. 

I grab a clean pair of PJs and change in the bathroom when I hear my dad re-enter. I close my eyes and lean my head against the door. He doesn’t deserve this life. First Mom leaves him because of me, and now he’s stuck here, taking care of his soon-to-be-dead daughter. When I’m gone he’ll only have my brother, Shane, though he’s married now and lives a few hours away.

I stop myself before I have any bitter thoughts about my brother. He has a family to take care of. I should be grateful for the few times he has visited. I love my brother even though I hardly hear from him.

I can’t help but wonder if Dad will move closer to him once I’m gone. I sigh, pull myself together, grab my clothes off the bathroom floor, and open the door. 

“So, what’s the movie tonight?” he asks when he sees me.

I smile and reply, “Dragonslayer.” 

“Oh, I remember when this movie came out. I saw it in theaters with your mother.” His face takes a sad turn.

“Oh. Um. I didn’t realize that. We can watch something else"I’ll go grab"”

“"No. It’s fine. Let’s just get it started.” He puts on a weak smile. “I want to watch it with my baby girl.”

He moves the bed as I put the movie in the DVD player and push “Play”.

Author's Note

I love any critique you will give me!

Reviews

[Steven Reeder]

What a magical first chapter. The first person narration draws me into the immediacy of the story. The narrator is very likable and all her emotions and responses to situations are real.

The dialog works well for me and none of it seems forced.

I hate Wes! But I can understand how Ley can like him, which works. Being a father with a teenage daughter, I can feel for the father, man. I can feel his internal pain, and you do a good job of not drenching it in sentimentality.

As this is not my usual genre, I don't have much else to say about it, but that I was engaged and actually liked reading it. That surprised me. The words flow and are easy to read. I was surprised when the chapter ended, because of the ease of reading. This has the potential to be a page turner.

I found only a couple of grammar mistakes. I listed them below.

He’s that same annoying, immature(comma delete) jerk that he was in high school.

“Hey, Sweetie. You doing all right?” (alright as a word is not accepted in American English)