Chapter 2

Finished the movie, nightmares, and another interaction with Wes.

Chapter 2

 

When the movie ends, we stare in silence for a while. While still staring at the credits, my dad says, “I don’t remember it being that bad…”

I agree. “I think that is the worst movie I have ever seen.”

“I concur.”

“Seriously, for being an old movie, that was pretty disturbing… And gory. Those baby dragons were disgusting!”

“I can’t believe I took your mother to watch that..”

I smile and nudge him. “Well, you guys were probably distracted… If you know what I mean.”

He sighs, “Yeah, we were. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was our first ‘official’ date.”

I glance over at him just as he blinks away the coming tears. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He quickly replies, “I’m getting tired, and you need to rest. Why don’t we pick this up another time.”“You’re changing the subject. You should really talk to someone, Dad. It doesn’t even have to be me, but it’d do you good.”

“I think your psychologist is starting to affect you, Ley,” he teases.

“I’m serious, Dad. I’m here if you want.”

He sighs. “I appreciate it, sweetheart. I may take you up on that sometime.”

“Good.” I smile sweetly.

 

*  *  *

 

We brush our teeth, and he heads out of the bathroom. I close the door and wash my face. I look in the mirror and see my dad’s eyes staring back at me. That’s what I got from my dad �" my dark green eyes. Other than that, I look completely like my mother �" Dark brown curly hair, light olive skin, same mouth and nose, slender stature. I always hated how much I looked like her. Every time I look in the mirror I see my mother, and remember how she left us…

I wrench myself out of the thought before it gets any further, and I splash water on my face to help wipe away my thoughts. I take a deep breath, let it out, and head out of the bathroom. I braid my hair when I get to bed, and look over at my dad who is now reading a book. He must sense me staring because he looks up and smiles. 

“I love you, Ley, my girl.”

I smile back. “Love you too, Dad.”

“Sleep tight.”

I smile as I give the cheesy response, “Every night.”

When I was little, I told my dad I didn’t like a boy at my school. My dad asked why, and I told him that he was weird. Dad told me not to judge people by their outside, because they could be a great person even if they don’t look like it. 

 

He told me a story about a little bunny and his mother. The father rabbit was thought to be killed by the evil snake, and they made a password for the mother when she arrived home after work so the son could lock the door and be safe from the snake. The password was that same thing… He would say, “Sleep tight.” And if it was safe outside, the mother would say, “Every night.” The story goes on with the snake trying to get in, but failing because he didn’t know the password. In the end, he figured out the password, surprised the son, and begged for him to listen and let him stay overnight. It just so happened that he hadn’t eaten the bunny father, but he was his father. A wood nymph had turned him into a snake and told him the only way he could be turned back was if his family could look past what he looked like, and they were kind enough to let him stay overnight at their house. Long story short, he was allowed to stay the night, was turned back into a rabbit, and they lived happily ever after. 

 

The very next day, I talked to that weird boy, and we became best friends shortly after. That odd boy was Wes.

Every night since the time Dad told me that story, I would reply to his “good-night” with my “every night.” 

I turn out the light and close my eyes hoping for a good dream tonight… I had no such luck.

 

*  *  *

  I was fourteen years old, and I overheard my mother yelling at my dad again. They fought all the time. She had always hated how poor our family was, and especially now that they 

were spending every penny on my health bills. She never wanted kids anyway. Both Shane and I were unwanted and accidents in her eyes. Whenever my mom looked at me, I think she was reminded of what her life could have been if she never had kids.

When I was little she always tried to get me to cook with her or play with dolls �" which I never enjoyed. I was a tomboy and so much more like Dad than her. I hated dresses, and I loved playing in the dirt with my brother. I always felt like she couldn’t stand the sight of me, and she wanted me to be a perfect daughter - which was something I most definitely was not.

When I heard her yelling, I closed my door. I was tired of this constant friction. I tried to block out the noise, but heard her anyway. She was yelling at Dad as if it was his fault for how awful her life was. She told him he was a fool for becoming a teacher instead of something that could produce actual income. I never get involved in these fights, but that comment was it for me. I stormed out of my room and told her to never talk to my dad like that again. She yelled at me and told me to stay out of it and that I was just a stupid child. I asked her why she hated me so much. She never denied it. She just told me to get my bald head back to my room. My dad stared at her in disbelief. In a strangled noise, I told her that I hated her too. I then ran to my room, slammed the door, and cried until I couldn’t anymore. 

My brother, Shane, came in my room about an hour later and picked up my bunny stuffed animal named, Charles. Shane was always the type to try to cheer me up. He understood me and loved me more than my mother ever had. He started talking and joking with me, and he finally got me laughing when suddenly, we heard my dad’s yell closely followed by a sound of breaking glass. We both jumped up, and Shane told me to stay in my room. I did no such thing. I followed him straight out there to find my dad standing in disbelief at the door. My mom had packed up and left before throwing a large vase at my dad to stop him from coming after her. Tires screech as she races away from my home.. From my family.. Away from me..

 

*  *  *

 

I gasp awake, and my heart is beating like crazy. I try tell myself it was just a dream, but in truth I know it wasn’t. It actually happened. It’s almost always that same dream; the same thing always that happens except sometimes I try to stop her. Sometimes I yell at her to stop, but it never works; it always ends the same way - tires screeching as she leaves. We haven’t seen or even heard from.her since.

My dad is still sleeping when I get up to clear my head. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep. I look at the clock, and it says it’s 5:13. Dad should be awake around seven to get ready for work, so it looks like I have almost two hours to blow before I should be back in my room to see him off. 

First I rinse my face and pull my hair into a messy bun. Then I grab my IV, my phone, and my book, Vow of Silence, and head out of my room for a walk around. I almost missed it, but when I look back to close the door, there is a small package laying on the ground… With my name on it. I look around in curiosity, and pick it up. There’s a little note taped to the top:

I know it’s not much, but here’s a beginning to my apology.

     -You Already Know Me

Even more confused, I pull on the satin ribbon and slowly open the gift. I almost laugh aloud from disbelief at what’s inside �" the classic, 1931 Dracula DVD. 

When could Wes have dropped this off? When could he have gotten it? He must have felt really horrible to have bought this for me. I reread the note… Beginning to his apology? What is that supposed to mean?

I throw the wrapping out and keep the note and the emerald green ribbon. That just happens to be my favorite color. Did he remember that? No, it’s gotta be a coincidence. We haven’t talked in years.

I walk toward the elevator, go up two floors, and head to the patio. I discovered this place by chance one afternoon when I was exploring the ‘grounds.’ The patio is just a little square deck on the 7th floor. Walls are on three of the sides - one with the door I just walked through. The fourth side of the deck overlooks the city to the east. Just in from the railing is a little swing fit for maybe three people at most. 

It feels like a summer morning outside, and I walk over to sit down on the comfy, cushioned swing. Looks like I’ll see the sunrise this morning. I curl up by the arm rest and look at the note again. I can’t help but smile when I look at it, and I make up my mind to try to find Wes today to see if he wants to watch it with me. I still can’t believe I reacted the way I did earlier. I should probably apologize for my irrational behavior. After deciding to try to find him later, I open out my book and start reading with only my phone as a light.

I’m completely sucked into the thrilling murder mystery, and I’m in the middle of to figure out who the serial killer is, when I hear a noise behind me. I gasp, jump up, drop my phone, and chuck my book behind me, but instead of hitting some creepy murderer, I hit Wes in the face. The book falls into his hands, and he is now looking just as freaked out as I am. I let out a shaky breath in relief.

I squeak out, “What are you doing?”

He clutches his chest and manages to say, “Man, you scared the crap out of me!”

“I did? You snuck up on me! Gosh, don’t ever do that again.” Now this is almost sounding like our conversation the other day.

He yawns. “I didn’t know anyone was out here. Frankly, I didn’t think anyone would be awake.”

“Same here,” I gasp.

He continues, “I didn’t even think anyone knew about this place.”

“Same here,” I repeat, still trying to steady my breathing.

He chuckles, heads toward me, hands me my book, and says, “Must be a pretty good book for you to be sucked into it that much.”

I smile. “Yeah, I was trying to figure out who the serial killer was when you walked out on me.”

“Ah, makes sense why you shrieked.”

“I did not shriek! I was just surprised by your sudden appearance.”

He smirks. “Whatever you say.”

I nod to the swing and ask, “You want to sit?”

He replies, “Don’t mind if I do.”I pick my phone up from the ground, put it in my pocket, and join him on the swing.

I look at him and smile awkwardly. 

What to talk about?

I then look closer at his forehead and realize he has a cut.

“Oh my god, you’re bleeding!” I start to reach up towards his head, but then think better of it and pull back.

“Really?” He reaches up, feels his forehead, and smirks. “Ah. Well it’s just a flesh wound.”

“Seriously?” I scoff. Talk about cheesy.

“Hey, you must pardon my poor wit this morning. I haven’t had my coffee yet, so I was basically a zombie until I was hit in the head by a flying novel.” 

I laugh. “I’m sorry by the way. Maybe you should go get it bandaged.”

He smiles. “Really, I’m fine. But let’s just say it’s a good thing it wasn’t hardback.”

I laugh. “Or a larger edition.”

We sit in silence for a bit when I remember his gift. 

I look at him and say, “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?” He turns his head to me, and I motion to Dracula which has been sitting next to me.

“Oh. That.” He almost looks like he is blushing. 

He clears his throat, “Well, you seemed pretty upset, and I figured it’s the least I could do. ”

Aw! He is totally blushing!

I smile, “It really means a lot to me.”

It goes silent again, and we both stare out at the approaching sunrise. Streaks of pink and gold shoot across the sky, and it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve seen in a while. Well, besides the handsome specimen sitting next to me. I sneak a glance over at him and jerk my eyes back to the sky when I realize he’s looking at me, and I feel my face get hot. 

I smile, “Breathtaking, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you are,” He teases.

My blush gets even deeper now. 

“The sunrise is quite beautiful too.”

I turn my face to him and ask, “Do you come out here often?”

He nods. “It’s got to be the most relaxing place here at the hospital.”

I look out again and sigh in agreement. 

“Sometimes I take my mom out here when she is awake and up for it,” he says. 

His mom? Oh, of course. How did I not think about why he was here? God, how could I be so selfish?

I get my mind back on the present after a few moments of complete silence.

“It’s so peaceful.” I smile. “I bet she loves it.”

“Yeah it is. And she does. Though she hasn’t really been up to it lately.” He looks down.

“What’s wrong with her?” I tentatively ask.

“She needs a kidney. Looks like all of her drug use has finally caught up to her.” He pauses.

It sounds like there is more he wants to say, so I wait.

He eventually continues, “Because of her drug abuse, they won’t put her on the list. The only way she can get a new kidney is if someone specifically gives it to her. I got tested, but my blood is A+, and she’s O+.”

“I’m so sorry,” I close my eyes. “She’s on dialysis then?”

“Yup.”

Silence again. He slowly looks towards me and with a sad face he tentatively asks, “What are you here for?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

He laughs for a second, then looks at me shyly. “No, I mean what are you at the hospital for. Is �"” He pauses. “ �" is the cancer back?”

I spit out a bitter laugh. “Nope. I need a heart.” I turn away. “It’s ironic really.”

He looks confused. “What do you mean?”

I turn my face back to him. “My previous chemo treatment is the thing causing the failure, and no medicine is working.” 

He inquires, “You can get a new heart though, right? I mean that’s what you need?”

I bite back a snide remark and simply reply, “Nope. I can’t get a new heart until I’ve been free from cancer for five years.”

He looks at me in question. “How long has it been?”

“Not yet four.”

Realization hits his face, and I look away. I can’t stand pity.

“Yup, I’m dying. Looks like I’m in the same boat as your mom. Unless someone specifically donates to me, I’m never getting a heart. The funny thing about hearts is that people only have one. And even if it was possible to donate hearts, my dad isn’t even the same type as me.”

“But you can get one next year, after a five year remission.”

“Always the optimist… The drugs they have been giving me are hardly working at all. Fundamentally they’re just delaying my inevitable death by a few months,” I smile bitterly and shake my head, “They’d be surprised if I last until Christmas.” Just a half a year away…

He looks at me with those intense blue eyes and says, “You’ll surprise them, I know it. You’ve always been full of surprises.”

I almost want to believe him, but then I close my eyes and force away that ridiculous thought. “Whatever you say…”

He’s changed from high school, I can tell. He seems to actually be capable of being genuine and sincere now.

He continues, “I’m serious. You just have to hold on another year.”

“You don’t get it, do you? No one ever gets it! Everyone is always trying to convince me that I’m not going to die, but they’re wrong. Everyone has to die someday �" some sooner than others, and there’s nothing we can do to prevent it.”

“But sometimes we can delay it for a little while.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s the inevitable cessation of life.” 

He stops me. “Inevitable? Why are you so intent on dying? And why are you so upset? What’s wrong with a little hope?”

“Hope is for fools.”

He just stares at me. “What?”

I repeat, “Hope is for fools. My mother spent her entire life hoping for something better, and she became so obsessed with it that she left everything for it. She was greedy and ungrateful. She lost the love and respect of everyone in her life. She lost her husband, her kids, her entire life..” I fade out.

When he looks at me, his eyes seem to bore into my soul, “That’s different, and you know it. Your mom couldn’t have been in her right mind, and besides, that wasn’t really hope. Hope is an incredible emotion that shows you that even though life can be unfair, something can always get better. Hope is something everyone should have. It adds something good to even the worst situations.”

I spit out a bitter laugh, “I hoped and prayed for health and happiness. Look what I have now. Pain, sickness, and death. Listen. The reason I don’t hope is because I will always be disappointed in the long run.”

“Always is a strong word. And that’s an awful way to live life. Only looking at the worst in all situations? How do you even deal with it?”

I glare at him in irritation. “I’ll be going now.” 

I grab my things and start to head away. 

“Wait.. Please wait, Leyna.”

I stop, but don’t turn around. I’ll probably do or say something I’ll regret.

“I’m sorry. Okay? I truly am.”

I open the door and head as fast as I can to my room; it was hardly fast enough before a wave of emotion enclosed on me. I pushed open the door and ran straight into my dad, who immediately grabbed me to steady me and asked what was wrong. Thankfully the shock of running into him removed the tears from my eyes, so I wasn’t crying in front of him. 

I quickly mumble, “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t believe me. Putting together an excuse for my hurrying in,  I blurt out, “I just wanted to make sure I said good-bye.”

I add a fake smile to top it. He looks skeptical, but doesn’t push it.

“Well, I was just going to find out where you went.”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I went to the patio.”

“Alright. Just leave me a note next time or something,” he says with a worried look on his face.

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that. I just didn’t want to wake you up.”

He smiles and says, “I was only worried. That’s all.”

“Yeah, but I can only go so far with this thing.” I smirk gesturing to my IV rack.

“You mean Ivan?” He states.

“What?”

“Ivan. I figured that’s a good name for it.”

“And when did you figure this out?” I smile.

“It came to me just now.”

I laugh. “It’s perfect.”

“Well, I have to head to work. Do you need anything?” He asks.

“Only if you stop by the store and grab ice-cream bars.” I joke. Another annoying thing with heart failure is the diet I have to be on.

“I’m sorry, but you’re on a strict heart-healthy diet, young missy.”

He gives me a big bear hug and kisses me on the forehead.

“Love you, Ley, my girl.”

I smile and kiss his cheek. “And I, you.”

 

*  *  *

 

Not a minute after he left and I sit back on my bed, a crowd of doctors come in the door. Most of them are student doctors, but my primary doctor, Dr. Pracken, is there. 

“Good morning, Miss Aleyna. How are you feeling this lovely day?” he asks.

I feign happiness. “I am doing pretty well considering. How are you?”

He chuckles. “I’m am doing fairly well also. Thank you for asking. Is it okay if I do a quick checkup with you?”“Yeah, whatever you need to do.” I sometimes wonder why he asks. It’s not like I’m going to refuse.

“Alright let me wash up quickly, and I’ll be right over.”

The mute crowd parts for him to wash his hands with that horrible smelling soap and the awful hand sanitizer. They both make me choke.

I study the various doctors. Most look to be in their mid twenties. They are all carrying clipboards and holding pens or pencils. It’s almost like this is a class, and I am the example. Or like I’m an exhibit in a zoo �" Look at this dying patient in her natural habitat. Watch her as she is studied by the doctor. I inwardly scoff.

They watch him intently as he walks over and pulls out the auriscope. He checks my eyes, ears, and mouth, and feels my neck for lymph nodes. He then grabs his stethoscope and begins to listen to my lungs and heart. I study his face for a reaction. 

I see nothing when he finishes, so I ask, “Anything change, Dr. P?”

I didn’t realize what I was saying until it had already come out.

He smiles. “One of my other patient’s sons calls me that also.”

I can feel myself blushing.

He then becomes serious again and explains, “There’s still no change. No worse �" which is good, but no better either. I’m sorry.”

I smile bitterly. “No worries, Doc. I didn’t expect such.”

He gives me a fake smile. “I’ll check up on you again next week unless something changes before then.”

I say, “I know. I’ll see you next week. And thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks.

I smile and say, “For taking care of me. I mean, I know it’s your job and all, but thanks for not giving up on me. Or throwing me out for some reason or another.” I add another smile to lighten the mood.

That got him to laugh. “I’m glad you’ve kept your sense of humor. And you’re most welcome. You have no idea how hard it is to not throw you out of here. You’ve been such a troublesome patient.” 

He smiles and adds, “Anyway, I’ll send Rebecca in to administer today’s dosage.”

“Alright, Dr. P,” I say without thinking, and I feel my cheeks grow hot again.

He chuckles again and leaves the room, closely followed by his ogling mob.  

I wonder if they’ll be quizzed on me later today. ‘How did the patient react when blah, blah, blah.’ God, it’s not like I’m not anything special for them to be quizzed about. Just another dying patient. 

Author's Note

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