Something to Remind You

A few days passed. I had locked myself up into my apartment; I had to finish this song and it had to be perfect if it was going to be my last message. I heard my phone ring but decided to ignore it for now. I looked at the sheet of paper and smiled; at last it was finished.

I walked over to my guitar and sat down and played the song, not singing. The melody had a haunting sound to it. That’s what I had been going for. I started to shiver from the cold. Unfortunately, I had lost my job a few weeks ago because of having to miss for chemo and therefore I couldn't exactly afford heat. How fucked is that? I lose my job because I have cancer. Assholes. As long as I was smart with my money, I’d last until I died.

I used to be afraid of death, now not so much. I almost welcomed it anymore. I honestly wanted to know what I had done to deserve getting this god awful disease. I had tried to be a good person growing up. I always did what my mother told me, even if she was a bitch. I did well in school, and helped others. I shook my head.

I went onto the website to submit my song. I filled in all the other information they wanted and then clicked enter after uploading my song. This was it. Who am I kidding? They’ll probably laugh at my song and think it’s stupid.

I decided to look up this band Of Mice and Men. Yes, I love music and listen to it all the time, but sometimes I don’t know who the artists are. I’m just not one of those girls who stalk the shit out of bands and only want them because they’re hot.

I opened up a new tab and went to YouTube. After typing in the band name, I selected the first song that came up, which was Second and Sebring. I watched the video and wanted to cry at how beautiful the song was. I did some quick research and figured out that Austin Carlile was the one who did the screaming parts.

I loved it. This song had so much raw emotion. I also found out this was written about his mother who he lost when he was 17. I would love to work with him. His songs held actual meaning in them.

I really wanted to win this contest now.

*&*&*&

Austin’s Point of View

I was checking through my email and noticed that Rolling Stone had sent me the list of the top 10 songs they chose from the entries to the contest we had decided to hold. I looked over the titles. And then one caught my attention.

It was titled “Death Song” and was written by someone named Monroe James. I read through the lyrics and was very impressed.

“Hey, Phil, come here a sec,” I yelled to our guitarist. He came into the living area of the bus and sat next me.

“Hey, Austin, what’s up?” he asked me. I pointed to his guitar.

“I want you to play this piece, it’s one of the songs that was entered in that Rolling Stone contest. This dude only wrote it for guitar,” I told him. Phil grabbed his guitar and looked over the riffs and notes a few minutes and then began to play.

This song definitely had a very haunting melody. I made a decision.

“This is the one,” I stated softly. Phil nodded as he read over the lyrics.

“This dude either knows someone who’s died, or is dying himself,” he muttered softly. I agreed with him.

I emailed the coordinator of the contest at Rolling Stone and told them the song I had chosen as the winner.

*&*&*&

Monroe’s Point of View

I finally realized a few hours later that someone had called me earlier. I looked at my phone and felt a sense of dread as I recognized it as the number of the hospital, specifically the number for the oncology department.

I noticed I had a new voice mail. I went to it and waited for the message to begin.

“Hello Miss James, this is Dr. Green’s office calling. We found something in your most recent blood test that we need to talk to you about right away. If you could please come in tomorrow morning at your earliest convenience, we’d really appreciate it. Thank you, have a nice day,” the secretary informed me.

Fuck. What else could they have found? I groaned and fell back onto the mattress. I let the darkness consume as I fell into a deep sleep.

After actually sleeping for once, I was up around eight the next morning. I showered and dressed as if I was moving on autopilot. I made my way to the hospital and went to the oncology unit. I saw Hanna and went up to her. She smiled sadly and led me to a room.

I sat there for a total of about 10 minutes and then Dr. Green came into the room. I had gotten to know Dr. Green over these past seven months. He was honestly more of a father figure than I had ever had in my life. He gave me a sad smile and I glared.

“Cut the pity shit and tell me what’s wrong,” I told him sternly. He sighed.

“Always trying to put on the brave face, Monroe. I’m afraid I have bad news. The cancer has begun to spread into your lungs, granted with your smoking habits it’s not all that surprising. But, it’s also gotten into your kidneys. We’re talking here maybe a 40% chance of beating this. You may want to begin to take the steps of finalizing some things, you could possibly die in a matter of six to seven months,” he told me.

I sat there stunned. When I first came in here, I was told that yes, I have cancer, but I had an 85 to 90% chance of going into remission after doing the chemotherapy. So to find out now that my chances of survival have gone down that much, along now with a possibility of death, I was kind of shocked.

I felt numb inside. I didn't even hear what else Dr. Green had to say. I got up and walked out of the room. I don’t know how I made it home. I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare.