Status: A rewrite of a rewrite.
Before I Die
Four
I can do this, I think with a determined heart, despite thinking that I don’t get much choice in the matter of whether I can handle this or not, of whether I can do this or not because even if I can’t, I have to. Not for myself, no I rarely do anything for myself, but for him, for Jett. Because I know deep down in my determined heart that he deserves to know the truth.
The truth that I am dying.
I am currently sitting with Jett at lunch at a secluded table away from the populous of our school. I am building up the nerve to tell him the truth of my doctors visit. The sandwich in front of me is cold, much like my hands and I wish I had a hot cup of coffee to warm them, and my cold heart. I am learning, the hard way, that not everything lasts forever, that even stars can die. I am realising, oh so slowly, that even the greatest things in life die… including me.
Jett is staring at me waiting, waiting for me to reply, but I don’t have the words. He had asked me something oh so simple, yet complicated, ‘how was the doctors’ and the words are dying in my mouth as I wait for something more than air to escape my lips.
“Well?” Jett asks staring at me intently, like he knows something is wrong, something more than what I am actually saying. He doesn’t press me more than that, simply waiting for my answer because he knows what I have to say is important. I shrug my shoulders with tears forming in my eyes, hoping my tears will not fall. I hope he doesn’t notice how upset I am getting over this one question.
“Hey Em,” Jett says softly leaning forward, “You know you can talk to me about anything,” He reaches over for my hand, I stare down as he holds my cold hand in his warm one, and I think for a moment that I am strong enough to tell him the truth.
But that quickly dissipates as another girl walks over and sits next to him glancing at our hands. I gulp because for some strange reason I never want Jett to let go, but he does and it is painful. He turns to Avery and smiles at her, before giving me a long look I cannot decipher, I am not sure I want to. Avery turns to Jett and takes up his undivided attention, before long I am forgotten. As they talk I slip away from the table.
Jett notices and momentarily stares after me, his stare hurts my heart, but I am too intent on not crying to stick around and tell him the truth. So I walk. I just walk with no destination in mind. I walk to my locker before deciding that I will stop walking when I find what I am looking for, only it never happens and I am left on the athletics oval staring into the parking lot waiting for something I am not sure exists.
Happiness in death.
I am tired, emotionally and physically, and not just from walking but from keeping this enormous secret, one that is life changing and not just for me but also the people around me who care about me. I want to go back to a few days ago back to before the doctor’s visit. To a month ago even, there are so many things I would do differently. But I can’t, and I am left feeling guilty for everything I didn’t do.
And it makes no sense to me, because I did everything right, yet here I stand slowly dying. It seems so unfair that I can’t comprehend the finality of my diagnosis. I am upset, tears are falling from my eyes and I know exactly why they fall, simply because Jett didn’t follow me. I didn’t expect that simple gesture to mean so much but it does and he has failed. He didn’t follow me and now I am so unsure, so confused, about telling him the truth.
“Emery?” I don’t realise I am shaking with sobs until a voice calls out to me. I turn around wiping at my nose with my sleeve dabbing at my eyes with bony fingers. I stare at a familiar boy from my English class, his name is Owen. We are not friends, hell I can’t even remember the last time we talked, even just to say hello.
“Are you okay?” He asks staring at me with a frown on his delicate features, he knows full well that I am not okay and his question annoys me, frustrates me because of course I am not okay, how can I ever be okay again?
“Fine” I spit with anger,
“You… You sure?” He asks taking a step closer, he looks like he always does with short cropped hair which is a dirty blonde, his eyes are a bland brown. He has a tentative smile on his thin lips almost as if he is scared of me. I feel bad all of a sudden because none of this is his fault, and blaming it on him is completely unfair.
“No,” I admit and it is as close to a genuine apology as I have gotten in a long time. I am not so good at apologising, and try at all costs to avoid it.
“Oh,” He says quietly his frown deepening as if he expected something entirely different to escape my tired lips. He stares at me for a moment obviously formulating a reply in his mind. Owen is smart, like way smart, smarter than almost all the kids at my school, what he lacks in social skills he makes up for in pure genius.
“Do… Do you want to talk about it?” I consider his offer; it would be completely awful of me to confide in Owen before Jett but a part of me wants to, wants to tell him the truth, my truth about my diagnosis.
But I don’t.
I bite my tongue and kick at a stray rock on the ground, waiting for myself to tell him no. “Yes,” I hear myself reply instead. And I surprise myself but mostly I surprise Owen because I don’t think he expected me to be so honest.
He stammers out a reply but I can barely hear him over the beating of my heart. I want to go back and find Jett and tell him the truth, but I don’t. I can’t. So I step closer to Owen and follow him to a bench where we sit down next to each other. Neither of us speaking but enjoying the company nonetheless.
The truth that I am dying.
I am currently sitting with Jett at lunch at a secluded table away from the populous of our school. I am building up the nerve to tell him the truth of my doctors visit. The sandwich in front of me is cold, much like my hands and I wish I had a hot cup of coffee to warm them, and my cold heart. I am learning, the hard way, that not everything lasts forever, that even stars can die. I am realising, oh so slowly, that even the greatest things in life die… including me.
Jett is staring at me waiting, waiting for me to reply, but I don’t have the words. He had asked me something oh so simple, yet complicated, ‘how was the doctors’ and the words are dying in my mouth as I wait for something more than air to escape my lips.
“Well?” Jett asks staring at me intently, like he knows something is wrong, something more than what I am actually saying. He doesn’t press me more than that, simply waiting for my answer because he knows what I have to say is important. I shrug my shoulders with tears forming in my eyes, hoping my tears will not fall. I hope he doesn’t notice how upset I am getting over this one question.
“Hey Em,” Jett says softly leaning forward, “You know you can talk to me about anything,” He reaches over for my hand, I stare down as he holds my cold hand in his warm one, and I think for a moment that I am strong enough to tell him the truth.
But that quickly dissipates as another girl walks over and sits next to him glancing at our hands. I gulp because for some strange reason I never want Jett to let go, but he does and it is painful. He turns to Avery and smiles at her, before giving me a long look I cannot decipher, I am not sure I want to. Avery turns to Jett and takes up his undivided attention, before long I am forgotten. As they talk I slip away from the table.
Jett notices and momentarily stares after me, his stare hurts my heart, but I am too intent on not crying to stick around and tell him the truth. So I walk. I just walk with no destination in mind. I walk to my locker before deciding that I will stop walking when I find what I am looking for, only it never happens and I am left on the athletics oval staring into the parking lot waiting for something I am not sure exists.
Happiness in death.
I am tired, emotionally and physically, and not just from walking but from keeping this enormous secret, one that is life changing and not just for me but also the people around me who care about me. I want to go back to a few days ago back to before the doctor’s visit. To a month ago even, there are so many things I would do differently. But I can’t, and I am left feeling guilty for everything I didn’t do.
And it makes no sense to me, because I did everything right, yet here I stand slowly dying. It seems so unfair that I can’t comprehend the finality of my diagnosis. I am upset, tears are falling from my eyes and I know exactly why they fall, simply because Jett didn’t follow me. I didn’t expect that simple gesture to mean so much but it does and he has failed. He didn’t follow me and now I am so unsure, so confused, about telling him the truth.
“Emery?” I don’t realise I am shaking with sobs until a voice calls out to me. I turn around wiping at my nose with my sleeve dabbing at my eyes with bony fingers. I stare at a familiar boy from my English class, his name is Owen. We are not friends, hell I can’t even remember the last time we talked, even just to say hello.
“Are you okay?” He asks staring at me with a frown on his delicate features, he knows full well that I am not okay and his question annoys me, frustrates me because of course I am not okay, how can I ever be okay again?
“Fine” I spit with anger,
“You… You sure?” He asks taking a step closer, he looks like he always does with short cropped hair which is a dirty blonde, his eyes are a bland brown. He has a tentative smile on his thin lips almost as if he is scared of me. I feel bad all of a sudden because none of this is his fault, and blaming it on him is completely unfair.
“No,” I admit and it is as close to a genuine apology as I have gotten in a long time. I am not so good at apologising, and try at all costs to avoid it.
“Oh,” He says quietly his frown deepening as if he expected something entirely different to escape my tired lips. He stares at me for a moment obviously formulating a reply in his mind. Owen is smart, like way smart, smarter than almost all the kids at my school, what he lacks in social skills he makes up for in pure genius.
“Do… Do you want to talk about it?” I consider his offer; it would be completely awful of me to confide in Owen before Jett but a part of me wants to, wants to tell him the truth, my truth about my diagnosis.
But I don’t.
I bite my tongue and kick at a stray rock on the ground, waiting for myself to tell him no. “Yes,” I hear myself reply instead. And I surprise myself but mostly I surprise Owen because I don’t think he expected me to be so honest.
He stammers out a reply but I can barely hear him over the beating of my heart. I want to go back and find Jett and tell him the truth, but I don’t. I can’t. So I step closer to Owen and follow him to a bench where we sit down next to each other. Neither of us speaking but enjoying the company nonetheless.