'Cause the Hardest Part of This is Leaving You.

" I'm on the line, " Mom says, pointing at her laptop. " Do you want to do your restless pacing somewhere else? "

The light from the computer flickers in her glasses. I sit on the chair opposite her.

" That's annoying as well, " she says, without looking up.

" Me sitting here? "

" No. "

" Me tapping the table? "

" Listen, " she says. " There's a doctor here who's developed a system called bone breathing. Ever heard of that? "

" No. "

" You have to imagine your breath as a warm color, then breathe in through the left foot, up the leg to the hip and then out the same way. Seven times, then the right leg the same. Want to give it a try? "

" No. "
She takes off her glasses and looks at me. " It's stopped raining. Why don't you take a blanket and sit in the garden? I'll let you know when the nurse gets here. "

" I don't want to. "
She sighs, puts her glasses back and turns back to her laptop. I hate her. I know she watches me leave. I hear her small sigh of relief.
All the bedroom doors are shut, so it's gloomy in the hallway. I go up the stair on all fours, at the top and look down. The gloom had no movement in it. Maybe I'm beginning to see things other people can't. Like atoms. I bump down on my bum and crawl back up again, enjoying the squash of carpet beneath my knees. There are thirteen steps.
I curl up on the floor of the stairs. This is where a cat should sit when it want's to trip people over. I've always wanted to be a cat. Warm and domesticated when you want to be, wild when you don't.

The doorbell rings. I curl myself tighter.

Mom comes out the hallway. " Gerard! " she says. " For Christ sake! "

Today's nurse is new. She's wearing a tartan skirt and looks really polite. Mom looks disappointing. " This is Gerard, " she points to me where I lie on the carpet.
The nurse looks shocked. " Did he fall? "

" No, he's refused to leave the house for nearly two weeks, and it's sending him crazy. "
She comes over and looks down at me and then holds her out hand to pull me up. Her hand feels big like a tennis racket. " I'm Phillipa, " she says, as if it explains anything.
She leads me into the lounge and helps me to a seat, lowers herself squarely opposite me.

" So, " she says. " not feeling good today? "

" Would you be? "

Mom shoots me a warning glance. I don' t care.
" Any shortness of breath or nausea? "

" I'm on anti-emetics. Have you actually read my case file? "

" Excuse him, " Mom says. " He's had a big of leg pain recently, nothing else. The nurse who
saw him last week said he was doing well. Shaun, I think his name was- he's aware of the medication regime. "

I snort through my nose. She tries to make it sound casual, but it doesn't wash with me. Last time Shaun was here she offered him supper and made an idiot of herself.

" The team tries to provide community, " Phillipa says. " But it;s not always possible. " She turns back to me, dismissing mom and her sorry love life.

" Gerard, you've got quite a bit of bruising on your arms. "

" I climb a tree. "

" I suggest your platelets are low. Have you got any major activities planned for this week? "

" I don't need another transfusion! "

" We'll do a blood test anyway, just to be on the safe side. "
Mom offers her coffee, but she declines. Shaun would've said yes.

" My mom can't cope, " I tell Phillipa as she goes out to the kitchen in a sulk. " She does everything wrong. "

She helps me off with my shirt. " And how does that make you feel? "

" It makes me laugh. "
She gets the antiseptic spray from her medical case, puts on sterile gloves and holds my arm so she can clean around the portacath. We both wait for it to dry. my stomach does these tight flips.

" Have you got a boyfriend? " I say.

" I've got a Husband. "

" What's his name? "

" Andy. "
She looks uncomfortable saying his name out loud. I see different people all the time and they never introduce themselves properly. They like knowing all about me though.

" Do you believe in God? " I ask her.

She sits back in her chair and frowns. " What a question! "

" Do you? "

" Well, I supposed I'd like to. "

" What about heaven? Do you believe in that? "

She rips a sterile needle from it's packet. " I think heaven sounds nice. "

" That doesn't mean it exist. "

She looks at me sternly. " Well let's hope it does. "

" I think it's a great big lie. When you're dead, you're dead. "

I'm beginning to understand her now: she's looking flustered. " And what happens to all that spirit and energy? "

" It turns to nothing. "

" You know, there are support groups, places you can meet other young people in the same position as you. "

" No one's in the same position as me. "

" That's how it is. "

I lift my arm so she can draw blood through the portcath. I'm half robot, with plastic and metal embedded under my skin. She draws blood into the syringe and I twist my head away. But I know it isn't done yet because she's ripping out another syringe. Both now have blood in it and transfers it into a little bottle and scribbles my name in blue ink on the label.

" That's you done, " she says. " I'll ring in an hour or so and let you know the results. Anything else before I go? "

" No. "

" Have you got enough meds? Do you want me to drop into the GP's and pick you up any repeat prescriptions? "

" I don't need anything. "
She heaves herself out of the chair and looks down at me solemnly.

" The community team offers a lot of support that you might not be aware of, Gerard. We can help you get back to school, for instance, even if it's only part-time, even if it's for a few weeks. it might be worth thinking about trying to normalize your situation."
I laugh up at her. " Would you go to school if you were me? "

" I might get lonely here by myself all day. "

" I'm not by meself. "

" No. " she says. " But it's tough on your Mom. "

She's a bitch. You're not suppsed to say things like that. I stare at her. She get's the message then.

" Goodbye, Gerard. I'm going to pop in the kitchen and have a word, then i'll be off. "
Despite the fat that she's already fat, Mom offers her fruit cake and coffee, and she accepts! The only thing we should be offering guest are plastic bags to wrap around their shoes. We should have a giant 'X' marked on our gate.

I trot over and steal a cigarette from Mom's jacket and go upstairs and lean out of Mikey's window. I want to see the street. There's a view through the trees to the road. A car passes. A person. I blow smoke out into the air. Everytime I inhale I hear my lungs crackle. Maybe I've got TB. I hope so. All the best poets have TB; it's a mark of sesibility. Cancer's just humiliating.

Phillipa comes out the front door and stands by the steps. I flick ash on her hair, but she doesn't notice, just says goodbye in that booming voice of hers and waddles off up the path.
I sit on Mikey's bed. Mom will come up in a minute. While I wait I stroke my hair backwards, forwards, like a rug.

Mom's taking ages. I walk around the room. At the mirror I pull out a single hair. It's growing back much darker, and strangely curly. I examinate it then let it fall. I like being able to spare one to the carpet. There's a map of the world on Mikey's wall. Oceans and deserts. I lie on his bed and look at it properly. It makes me feel tiny.
It's literally five minutes later when I open my eyes and go downstairs to see what's keeping Mom. She's already slithers away, left some stupid note by her laptop.

I phone her. " Where are you? "

" You were asleep, Gerard. "

" But where are you? "

" I just came out for a quick coffee. I'm in the park. "

" The park? Why would you go there? We've got coffee at home. "

" Gee! Come on, I just need a bit of space. Turn the TV on if you're lonely. I'll be back soon. "

A woman cooks breaded chicken. Three men press a buzzers. Two actors argue about a dead cat. One of them makes a joke about stuffing it. I sit hunched.
I text Lindsey: WHERE R U? She texts back that she's at college, but that's a lie because she doesn't have art classes on Friday's.

I wish I had a number for Frank. I'd text him: DID U DIE?

He should be out digging, playing with vegetation and peas. but he hasn't been out for days thought. And he promised me a motorbike ride.