Love Sick
Eleven
"How's Miss Janet Maria doing?" Justin asks with a bright smile, peering into the laptop's built-in camera. Settled in my bed at home, I sigh and run a hand through my hair, giving him an exasperated laugh. It is eleven at night in Los Angeles and Justin had just arrived home by plane from New York. Words cannot adequately explain how grateful I am that he is so tired from the plane ride, yet isn't willing to break his promise to call me once he got safely home. He tilts his head to the side a bit, silently attempting to figure out if something is wrong . "You're stressed." He finally finds the simple words to express his observation.
I slowly nod in agreement.
"Talk to me." He sits back, folding his arms across his chest and focusing on the screen. "What are you stressing about?"
"School. I have to go back. Tomorrow."
"How many days have you missed?"
"Two weeks already. I'm a senior. Do you know how much work I'll have to do just to catch up?"
"You'll do great. You're very intelligent."
"How do you know?
"I can just tell." He smiles, unwilling to give up the secret to this exclusive sixth sense. "How's TFiOS?"
I smile. "So far? Perfect."
"I thought so, too. Still do, in fact."
I sigh again, but don't give him time to ponder the reason. "The one issue I have with it is that it makes me miss my mom. And it makes me upset."
"How so?"
"Well, when Hazel is out to the mall with Kaitlyn and slips away under the half-truth that she's tired, she expresses to us the way her mother's 'perpetual nearness' makes her feel 'weirdly nervous'. I would give anything to have my mother around. She needs to be more appreciative toward her constantly present, or in Hazel's terms, her 'perpetually near' mom."
"I'm sorry. But please know that you are more than welcome to adopt my mother as your own." He smiles kindly as my dad knocks lightly on my door to tell me it's time to sleep. "Goodnight, Justin." I smile.
"Goodnight, Janet Maria."
...
Justin's Point of View
I wake up and check my phone. It's a habit. I see six missed calls. One from Mom and another from Dad. Probably just checking up on me. Scooter. Either checking in or eager to tell me about a new artist he recently found or signed. Alfredo. I listen to his voicemail. He wonders if I'd be interested in joining him and Dan Kanter for lunch at this new restaurant that had opened up a few days ago. I check the last two messages without bothering to look at the name. Selena's voice rings in my ears and I listen as she begs me to change my mind about the breakup and insists that we can make this work. In her second message she sounds like she's on the brink of tears and promises that she'll love me forever and "even when the world ends, her love will go on". I find myself holding back a chuckle. The line sounds corny, even for me, like it belongs in a sappy romantic movie or novel. After calling my parents and Scooter back, I delete all five of the messages and call Fredo back, asking him to text me the address of the new restaurant.
I walk in and feel eyes on me from all around, but I tell myself to ignore them and stay humble; there is nothing different about me. I live my life, just like them. I work hard, just like them. I have troubles and try to mask my pain, just like them. I pay for my meal and follow the guys to the vacant booth by the window, but before I get my drink, my eyes are drawn to a mason jar by the cash register asking customers to donate to the cause of research and, hopefully, cures for three types of cancer: brain, lung and ovarian. My mind is filled with glimpses of my first meeting with Janet- her eyes, her smile, her infectious love of life. I ask the cashier behind the counter if all the proceeds go toward research. Not to sound like jerk, but I don't want to drop a large amount of money into an undercover tip jar. The cashier explains that the restaurant owner's wife had overcome ovarian cancer as a young woman, but had lost her mother to brain cancer and her brother-in-law to lung cancer. I quietly slip a twenty dollar bill into the jar and then give the cashier three $100 bills. She smiles and thanks me for my generous donation, promising that my money will not go to waste. I fill my styrofoam cup with root beer and sit down. Dan asks why I gave such a large amount of money to the cause. Fredo and I glance at each other. I lean my elbows on the tabletop and smile. "Well, a few weeks back, I met a girl named Janet Maria..."
Janet's Point of View
I wake up with my alarm and shower, getting ready for the day ahead of me. I will return to school today. Nobody aside from Justin and my family know about my diagnosis of cancer. Or at least this is what I think until I step into the hallway. My biology teacher, Mrs. Clare, stops talking with another student and gives me a warm smile, like she's always done. But this time, her silence and facial expression take me back to the time I walked through the halls with a broken leg. It's the look of pity. I hated it then, and I am not looking forward to it now.
I slowly nod in agreement.
"Talk to me." He sits back, folding his arms across his chest and focusing on the screen. "What are you stressing about?"
"School. I have to go back. Tomorrow."
"How many days have you missed?"
"Two weeks already. I'm a senior. Do you know how much work I'll have to do just to catch up?"
"You'll do great. You're very intelligent."
"How do you know?
"I can just tell." He smiles, unwilling to give up the secret to this exclusive sixth sense. "How's TFiOS?"
I smile. "So far? Perfect."
"I thought so, too. Still do, in fact."
I sigh again, but don't give him time to ponder the reason. "The one issue I have with it is that it makes me miss my mom. And it makes me upset."
"How so?"
"Well, when Hazel is out to the mall with Kaitlyn and slips away under the half-truth that she's tired, she expresses to us the way her mother's 'perpetual nearness' makes her feel 'weirdly nervous'. I would give anything to have my mother around. She needs to be more appreciative toward her constantly present, or in Hazel's terms, her 'perpetually near' mom."
"I'm sorry. But please know that you are more than welcome to adopt my mother as your own." He smiles kindly as my dad knocks lightly on my door to tell me it's time to sleep. "Goodnight, Justin." I smile.
"Goodnight, Janet Maria."
...
Justin's Point of View
I wake up and check my phone. It's a habit. I see six missed calls. One from Mom and another from Dad. Probably just checking up on me. Scooter. Either checking in or eager to tell me about a new artist he recently found or signed. Alfredo. I listen to his voicemail. He wonders if I'd be interested in joining him and Dan Kanter for lunch at this new restaurant that had opened up a few days ago. I check the last two messages without bothering to look at the name. Selena's voice rings in my ears and I listen as she begs me to change my mind about the breakup and insists that we can make this work. In her second message she sounds like she's on the brink of tears and promises that she'll love me forever and "even when the world ends, her love will go on". I find myself holding back a chuckle. The line sounds corny, even for me, like it belongs in a sappy romantic movie or novel. After calling my parents and Scooter back, I delete all five of the messages and call Fredo back, asking him to text me the address of the new restaurant.
I walk in and feel eyes on me from all around, but I tell myself to ignore them and stay humble; there is nothing different about me. I live my life, just like them. I work hard, just like them. I have troubles and try to mask my pain, just like them. I pay for my meal and follow the guys to the vacant booth by the window, but before I get my drink, my eyes are drawn to a mason jar by the cash register asking customers to donate to the cause of research and, hopefully, cures for three types of cancer: brain, lung and ovarian. My mind is filled with glimpses of my first meeting with Janet- her eyes, her smile, her infectious love of life. I ask the cashier behind the counter if all the proceeds go toward research. Not to sound like jerk, but I don't want to drop a large amount of money into an undercover tip jar. The cashier explains that the restaurant owner's wife had overcome ovarian cancer as a young woman, but had lost her mother to brain cancer and her brother-in-law to lung cancer. I quietly slip a twenty dollar bill into the jar and then give the cashier three $100 bills. She smiles and thanks me for my generous donation, promising that my money will not go to waste. I fill my styrofoam cup with root beer and sit down. Dan asks why I gave such a large amount of money to the cause. Fredo and I glance at each other. I lean my elbows on the tabletop and smile. "Well, a few weeks back, I met a girl named Janet Maria..."
Janet's Point of View
I wake up with my alarm and shower, getting ready for the day ahead of me. I will return to school today. Nobody aside from Justin and my family know about my diagnosis of cancer. Or at least this is what I think until I step into the hallway. My biology teacher, Mrs. Clare, stops talking with another student and gives me a warm smile, like she's always done. But this time, her silence and facial expression take me back to the time I walked through the halls with a broken leg. It's the look of pity. I hated it then, and I am not looking forward to it now.