Status: on an obvious haitus... sorry!
Dark Side
Chapter Two
“What do you want to do this summer, Eleanor?” My mom asked me, just like every other beginning of every holiday break.
Each time, I’d tell her that I wanted to see Dad. She refused and complained that if something were to happen and she wasn’t there, she wouldn’t know what to do. And then this time, there was the fact that he would probably be too busy for me and my cancer-filled life.
My parents got divorced a really long time ago; I was six years old, and Matt was three. Dad was always engrossed with his teaching job, staying late at the school and leaving my mother to fend for us. Eventually, she got tired of it and gave him an ultimatum: Work less or a divorce. Obviously, he didn’t want to give up his life, so he went with the divorce.
Before he left us, he pulled me in for a tight hug and whispered, “I may like my job, but I will always love you.”
And he did love me, too. When I was admitted into the hospital and found out that I had cancer, he immediately hopped onto a plane and came to see me. He said that he had a conference that day, but chose to skip it because I was more important. I remember smugly smiling over my mother, whose indifference was forced.
She may have said no, but this summer, I persisted. It may have been the fact that I was a survivor of cancer, but regardless, I had a new wave of confidence and I kept on telling her that I wanted to go visit him.
Eventually, she gave in. With the doctor’s permission and instructions that if anything were to happen, go directly to the hospital, we told my father and purchased a plane ticket for me.
When the plane landed, I didn’t know what to think. Outside was so dreary and depressing; I couldn’t help but feel like I was back in the cancer ward. I suppressed a shudder and went to grab my bags from the baggage claim and headed for the bathroom.
I was seeing my Dad for the first time in the year today and wanted to look presentable. I assessed myself in the mirror. My hair was finally growing back in after falling out from the chemo. It was still short, but Mom always said that I reminded her of a cute, little pixie. I may have been in the clear, but my weight hadn’t come back and I looked too skinny. He’ll understand, though.
With my suitcase wheeling behind me, I walked out to the crowd of people and immediately saw him. Dad was dressed in his usual khaki pants and sweater vest. He grinned when he saw me.
“Ellie!” He exclaimed and I made my way over to him. He pulled me in for an annoyingly gentle hug, as if I were going to break any second. “How was the flight?”
“It was boring. I don’t like just sitting in one place for a while,” I complained to him, thinking back to sitting in the chemo room.
Dad grabbed my suitcase from me and pulled me with him. “Let’s get you home.”
Each time, I’d tell her that I wanted to see Dad. She refused and complained that if something were to happen and she wasn’t there, she wouldn’t know what to do. And then this time, there was the fact that he would probably be too busy for me and my cancer-filled life.
My parents got divorced a really long time ago; I was six years old, and Matt was three. Dad was always engrossed with his teaching job, staying late at the school and leaving my mother to fend for us. Eventually, she got tired of it and gave him an ultimatum: Work less or a divorce. Obviously, he didn’t want to give up his life, so he went with the divorce.
Before he left us, he pulled me in for a tight hug and whispered, “I may like my job, but I will always love you.”
And he did love me, too. When I was admitted into the hospital and found out that I had cancer, he immediately hopped onto a plane and came to see me. He said that he had a conference that day, but chose to skip it because I was more important. I remember smugly smiling over my mother, whose indifference was forced.
She may have said no, but this summer, I persisted. It may have been the fact that I was a survivor of cancer, but regardless, I had a new wave of confidence and I kept on telling her that I wanted to go visit him.
Eventually, she gave in. With the doctor’s permission and instructions that if anything were to happen, go directly to the hospital, we told my father and purchased a plane ticket for me.
When the plane landed, I didn’t know what to think. Outside was so dreary and depressing; I couldn’t help but feel like I was back in the cancer ward. I suppressed a shudder and went to grab my bags from the baggage claim and headed for the bathroom.
I was seeing my Dad for the first time in the year today and wanted to look presentable. I assessed myself in the mirror. My hair was finally growing back in after falling out from the chemo. It was still short, but Mom always said that I reminded her of a cute, little pixie. I may have been in the clear, but my weight hadn’t come back and I looked too skinny. He’ll understand, though.
With my suitcase wheeling behind me, I walked out to the crowd of people and immediately saw him. Dad was dressed in his usual khaki pants and sweater vest. He grinned when he saw me.
“Ellie!” He exclaimed and I made my way over to him. He pulled me in for an annoyingly gentle hug, as if I were going to break any second. “How was the flight?”
“It was boring. I don’t like just sitting in one place for a while,” I complained to him, thinking back to sitting in the chemo room.
Dad grabbed my suitcase from me and pulled me with him. “Let’s get you home.”