Coffee and Cigarettes

I woke up in my bedroom, my face buried into my pillow. My eyes fluttered open as they tried to regain focus. My bedside lamp was on, but everything else remained dark. I looked out the window and was greeted by an array of bright, beautiful stars.

I love the nighttime, I thought to myself as I sat up, stretched my arms and got out of bed.

I yawned, although I no longer felt tired. I flickered on my bedroom light and peered out of the hallway. My parents' light was out, and I could hear my father snoring softly. They were definitely asleep. I looked over at Bob's next, and there was a dim light peering through the cracks of the door frame.

I walked over, rubbing my eyes. I knocked on the door lightly and waited. He came over and opened it for me.

He looked completely exhausted. His eyes were puffy and red, a cigarette was lit but untouched in the ashtray on his desk. He looked like the living dead, to be blunt.

"Bob, have you slept?" I asked, my throat scratchy at hoarse from the lack of use.

He shook his head. "I couldn't sleep. I tried, but I couldn't."

I yawned again. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Four fifteen," he answered, rubbing his eyes. "Why are you up?"

I shrugged. "I felt compelled to wake up. Just one of those things, I guess." I looked around the room. It looked like a tornado had hit. "Bob, you should either clean your room or you should go to bed."

He chuckled. "Goodnight, then."

"Don't you mean 'good morning'?" I grinned.

"Smart ass," he smirked before pulling me into a bear hug. "I'm glad that you're not mad at me anymore. Let's not fight again, alright?"

I squeezed him back. "Us fighting is inevitable. Let's just try to minimize it."

He nodded. "Deal."

I left his room and closed the door behind him. I made my way downstairs, suddenly being hit by hunger pangs, and turned the light on in my kitchen. I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw a figure sitting at the kitchen table.

"...Mom?" I called.

She nodded. "It's me, honey."

"What are you doing, up at four in the morning?" I asked, sitting down next to her. She was in a pale blue fleece bathrobe with navy edging, her dirty blond hair clinging to her face in a cold sweat.

"I couldn't sleep," she said with a chuckle. "I'm too worried about your sister."

I nodded. We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment or two before my mother gave a bit of a shiver. "Would you like me to make some tea?" I asked, noticing that her hands were almost blue.

She nodded. "Please."

I got up and filled the kettle with some water, then put it on the stove. I prepared the mugs with a few tea leaves at the bottom, and we waited for the water to come to a boil.

When it finally did about five minutes later, I poured the water into the mugs and handed one to my mom. She grasped it in her hands and allowed the warmth of it flow through her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"It's okay," I replied. "You know...you should really try to sleep. Blair's fine."

That's when my mom started breaking down in tears.

"M-Mom?" I asked, gently patting her on the back as her body was wracking with sobs.

"Oh, honey..." she said, sniffling. "I wish you knew. I wish I could tell you...but it isn't my place."

"What are you talking about?" I demanded. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "It isn't my place to tell you. The doctor called us since we wouldn't listen to him at the hospital, and...and..." she sobbed as she broke down once again.

"Mom, it's okay. I'll just ask Blair tomorrow at the hospital." I said, trying desperately to calm her down.

She just nodded and started sipping her tea. "Thank you," she said graciously. "Finish your tea and go upstairs. I'll be up shortly."

I nodded and quickly drank up the tonic, then left the mug on the kitchen counter before walking up the stairs.

I sat quietly on one of the steps and glanced over at my mom. She buried her head in her hands and continued on crying. Tears rose in my own eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. I had to be strong.

I walked down the upstairs hallway until I came to Blair's bedroom door. Bob's light was out, and it was almost completely dark. The only light on in the house was that of the kitchen.

I ran my fingers along the brass knob before turning it and pushing. The door creaked open and I walked into her room. Everything was so still that you could feel the dust particles floating in the air.

I went to the light switched and turned it on. The room illuminated and I closed the door behind me.

I went over to her bed. It had her favourite green and pink sheets, adorned with large floral patterns. Her stuffed animals lined the walls, her books littering the desk and the nightstand.

I sat on her bed and let my fingers linger over her favourite stuffed animal, the panda bear I'd bought her when she turned eight. I picked it up and hugged it. It smelled like lilac and vanilla, just like Blair's perfume.

I looked over and saw The Perks of Being a Wallflower where the stuffed animal was. I guess she put it underneath the panda because she didn't want me to find it. I'd begged her on several occasions to let me read it, but she'd never let me. She always said she was reading it and didn't want to be disturbed.

I flipped it open and read the first segment.

August 25, 1991

Dear friend,

I am writing to you because she said you listen and understand and didn't try to sleep with that person at that party even though you could have.
I continued to read. I read the rest of the paragraph, but this line caught my eye:

I just need to know that someone out there listens and understands and doesn't try to sleep with people even though they could have. I need to know that these people exist.
People who listen and understand. That's all Blair ever really needed, come to think of it. That's all anyone ever needs...someone that will listen, understand, and not judge. Someone they can confide in.

I wish I could've been that person.

I placed the book underneath the panda where it belonged, unable to read anymore. It reminded me too much of my hospitalized sister.

I went to her desk and sat in her chair. I smiled as I looked at the doodles she had created on pieces of looseleaf paper. I started to swing my legs, a habit I'd picked up when I was small, and somehow kicked over the garbage can.

"Shit," I muttered.

I got off the chair and moved it aside. Papers and tissues were all over the floor, so I picked them all up and put them back in the basket.

All of them except for one.

One piece of paper had rolled underneath Blair's bed, and I reached for it. After grabbing it, I felt compelled to open it. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn't have, but I felt that I needed to at that point in time.

I unfolded the crinkled piece of paper and laid it flat on the desk so I could read it.

The words hit me so hard that I lost my breath and felt like I was going to throw up.

HIV AIDS Test: POSITIVE

I guess it made sense what the doctor had said at the hospital.

He never said, "Your daughter's awake."

He had said, "Your daughter has AIDS."