Simon stared blankly at the doctor’s pasty white face. This couldn’t be
happening. Not again. They’d said it was gone, that he would get better. And to
have this disgusting man give him the news? The doctor looked like a frosted
donut. Without the giant hole in his head. But that was beside the point.The
only important thing to say was:
“What do you mean I’m coming out of remission?”
“The cancer’s coming back,” The doctor explained, his doughy cheeks
caving in, “I’m very sorry, Simon, but this could be it. Brain cancer is a very
dangerous form of malignant tumors.”
“But I was better,” Simon insisted, “You jerks told me I wasn’t ever
going to have to deal with the stupid stuff again!”
His mother placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.
He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t have the strength to see the tears forming
in her tired eyes. The last time… well, the pain had practically killed her.
Now she’d have to go through it all over again.
“Simon,” The doctor sighed, “Nothing is permanent. Especially cancer.”
“Doctor…”
Simon’s head jerked up in surprise. His mother had spoken to a doctor?
Claire Merton- his mother, the one who was deathly afraid of anything medical-
had actually spoken to a doctor? He couldn’t believe it. But there she was,
defiantly staring at the Donut Man, with her hollow eyes flashing.
“Yes, Mrs. Merton?”
His mother took a deep breath, then said, “You said that this could be
it? What exactly did you mean by that? He’s going to get better… isn’t he?”
“Take him home. Spend a while with him. We’ll book you some Chemo time
and look at some other possible treatments in the meantime.”
Simon’s blood ran cold. The doctor had not answered his mother’s
question.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Okay, Lizzie, I’m counting! 1-2-3-“
The giggling child that had been standing next to the redheaded girl
abruptly disappeared, scampering off to another part of their house. Amber was
left standing there, counting to thirty, in the hopes that, this time, her
little sister would manage to hide in a
better spot than just under the bed. It made these games dreadfully easy, not
to mention how tedious it was getting. But anything for the family’s little
darling; and, since Poppy and Benny refused to play anymore, the task of
entertainment fell to the eldest sister of the lot. But she didn’t mind. Too
much.
As she rounded the twenties, Amber’s thoughts flickered to Simon. I
hope his appointment went okay, she mused, finally reaching thirty and
calling out, “Ready or not, here I come!”
The phone rang.
“PHONE!” Amber hollered, her voice reverberating through their small
house.
“OKAY!” Her father yelled back. The ringing stopped.
Amber continued down the hall, silently praying that her sister had
maybe, perhaps, had a burst of creativity and hidden in the laundry hamper.
However, she was interrupted by:
“IT’S FOR YOU!”
She sighed. “WHO IS IT?”
“YOUR BOYFRIEND!”
“OKAY!” She called, dashing to the phone, “LIZZIE, IT’S SIMON!”
“OKAY! WE CAN PLAY LATER!”
Amber picked up the phone and said, “Hey.”
The voice that came through on the other end seemed muffled, but happy.
“Hey back at you.”
“Do anything interesting last night?” She asked, flopping on the couch
with her legs over the back. Amber didn’t know the statistics, but she was
almost sure that fifty percent of teenage girls preferred this method of
relaxation while talking on the phone.
“You mean, after the movie?”
“Yeah. Just go to bed, or was there anything more risqué?”
He chuckled, although Amber couldn’t help but feel it sounded forced. Did
something happen at the checkup? It wouldn’t have. It was just routine. A
finishing thing. To confirm once and for all that Simon was one hundred percent
better. Nothing was wrong. Nada. She
turned her attention back to the phone.
“Risqué?”
“You know, stay up till three or something devilishly mischievous like
that?”
“Is that really what you were
implying?”
“Are you saying I was insinuating something… dirty?” Amber waggled her eyebrows in a mocking way.
“Your eyebrows are waggling, aren’t they?”
“Yep, yep, yep! You know me so well!”
There was a moment of silence as Amber waited for a sarcastic reply.
When none came, she started to mention the checkup, but thought better of it at
the last minute. Simon never really liked to talk about his sickness. Anyway,
nothing happened. It was just a routine once over, just to make sure….
“So,” She started, ignoring her fear and starting to blather a bit, “Did
you know that turtles don’t ever actually die of old age… like, their organs
never fail or anything. It’s just disease or-“
“Amber.”
“Yes?”
“I’ve got cancer again.”
Numb. What? So numb. No, not again. Why couldn’t she
feel anything? Her toes, her face, her heart… all her limbs and organs felt
like they’d been frozen. The phone fell to the couch and she let it lay there.
Slowly, Amber straightened up, picked up the phone, and just looked at it.
“Amber?” His voice sounded tinny this far away, almost laughable. But
she didn’t feel like laughing.
She raised the phone to her ear. “I’m here,” She said, trying to stop
the tears that seemed determined to flow.
“Did you hear me?”
Amber nodded, realized that he couldn’t see her, and said, “Uh huh.”
“About the tumor?”
Another nod. Another, “Uh huh.”
“And what do you think?”
She bit her lip and a tear escaped down her cheek as if her eye was a
prison and it was a fugitive. “I feel numb,” Amber said, her voice shaking.
“Me too.”
“But you’re going to get better, Simon,” She told him, “This isn’t it.
You’re going to be okay… right?”
“I don’t think-“
“No. Don’t think. What did the doctors tell you?”
“Nothing. Which meant everything. Amber, they said I’m not-“
“To hell with what the doctors said! Ignore the doctors! Say nasty words
about the doctors! You are going to get better!”
“No. I’m not.”
Something was breaking. It could have been her heart, but it felt more
like her entire body was being ripped in two.
“What?”
“I’m not getting better this time.”
The phone was on the ground, but this time it didn’t get picked up.
Amber sat there for what seemed like days, numb to the world and blank minded.
It was only when little Lizzie walked out of her room and asked her what the
matter was, that she broke down into hysterical sobbing. But the numbness
didn’t go away.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“What do you see?”
“Aquarius. Orion’s Belt. The Big Dipper.”
“No, more creative. I know you can do it, Amber.”
She laughed, letting the sound of his voice wash over her like a wave.
It had been six months since the diagnosis. Six long, hard months, filled with
fear and an ever growing feeling of hopelessness. Simon had gone from the
well-built, baby haired boy she’d fallen in love with to a shell. His cheeks
were hollow, his eyes shadowed, his body boney and without fat. But he was
always cheerful. Except when he wasn’t. But he was usually cheerful. Even when
things seemed bleak and hopeless, he was her light, shining through the
darkness and making the way seem clear. How would she live without him?
Amber snuggled closer to Simon, wrapping her arms around his torso and
thinking, he’s mine. You can’t take him. I won’t let you.
They were lying in the bed of his father’s truck, surrounded by pillows
and duvets, staring at the stars. The date had been set a week before. The two
of them were to go stargazing, in a farmer’s field, and then make sure they
were home the next morning by ten, or else their parents would text them lewd
assumptions about what they had been doing that night. Everyone knew it
couldn’t be long now. Simon was so thin, so… His parents had talked to Amber’s
parents, and both sets had been extra sweet and kind, letting the two of them
do almost anything they wanted. They’d been bungee jumping, hang gliding, rock
climbing, dressed up as superheroes and arrested jaywalkers, played hide and
seek in Walmart, jammed with their band on the top of a skyscraper- every
single little whim had been catered to. But when Amber’s parents agreed to let
her go to Disneyland with Simon for a weekend… that’s when she really realized
that he was not going to get better. Ever.
I don’t want you to die.
She knew she’d been acting weird lately, distant and insecure, but she
hoped that he hadn’t noticed. Of course, she could tell that he had. Simon had
most definitely noticed how she hadn’t been able to hold his hand during
Titanic 3D, or how she’d snapped at him when he showed up at her house with
yellow roses. He knew they were her favorite, and that she loved the horrible
overly romanticness of Titanic, so he couldn’t figure out why she was pushing
him away.
This was going to be the saving grace. A night under the stars to talk
about their problems, their fears… even though, underneath it all, there was
this horrible feeling of inescapable doom.
The cancer.
No one talked about it. No one mentioned it. It was like this black
sheen of mist covering everyone Simon met. They were all afraid that if they
mentioned it, he’d get worse. But the silence was suffocating.
“Amber? What do you see?” Simon asked, bringing Amber out of her
reverie.
“I told you,” She sighed, “The Big Dipper.”
He turned to her and gave her a look. Amber couldn’t see the look, due
to the dark, but she could tell that his nose was scrunching up and lines were
appearing over his eyes. It was his ‘Really? Really?’ look. She knew it so
well. What would she do when he wasn’t there to look at her like that anymore?
“Try,” He said.
Amber gazed up at the sky and saw nothing. And everything. It was so
strange to look up and see this blanket, surrounding you on all sides,
twinkling with sequins sewn in as an afterthought. When you thought about how
huge the blanket was, how utterly endless, how simply universal-
You felt tiny. Insignificant. Worthless.
But Simon wasn’t. All she could see as she stared at the stars was
Simon. He was her world, her universe. Maybe, if he’d lived, they’d have grown
apart and broken up at some point, but he wasn’t going to live. He would never
get the chance to go through that pain. The pain would all be Amber’s. And
somehow, she resented it.
Amber couldn’t help it. She’d look at him and think about how it would
all be over soon for him, how he’d just be gone and have no more troubles. But
for her? The funeral. All the pain of his death. Getting over his loss. Going
to university. Comparing every single guy she would ever date with her one,
practically perfect, completely selfless high school boyfriend. All of these
things would be hers to feel. Hers to mourn. But to tell him? No. He couldn’t
learn that his love, the one who stood by him through it all, had started to
feel the niggling of hatred bubbling up in her, hateful of his sudden
departure. It would be so easy for him.
She pushed the thoughts away. Not now, she told herself, Tonight
is about Simon.
“I see a dragon,” Amber tried, desperately begging the stars to realign
so that her lie would be undiscovered.
“Really?”
“No,” She admitted, blushing and feeling stupid, “I really just see the
Big Dipper, Simon. I took astronomy last year. I can’t escape the knowledge.”
“Okay.”
A moment of silence surrounded them, the black mist sinking into their
pores. Finally, Amber asked, “What do you see?”
Simon shook his head. “Mine’s too embarrassing. You have to find one
first.”
“Fine,” She sighed in mock exasperation, “How about this: I see a cup.
Like a Big Dipper. A big, big, big dipper.”
He nudged her side. “Try again.”
Amber looked.
Simon waited.
“Okay, tough guy. I see… the London Eye.”
“Where?”
She pointed. “The big one can be the middle and all the other ones look
like they’re revolving if you squint really hard.”
He tried, laughed, and said, “You’re right!”
“Your turn.”
“No.”
“Come on! You said if I saw something you’d tell me yours. Fess up.”
“Fine….” Pause, “Oh, was that a bear I saw moving in the woods?”
“Simon! Tell me,” Amber sat up, picked up a pillow, and started lightly
tapping his arm with it, mimicking Monty Python, “The soft pillows lead you to
confess! Confess! Confess! Do I have to bring out the comfy chair? Confess-“
“Babies.”
“What?”
The silliness was over.
“I saw children.”
Amber couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t think anything. Nothing was
running through her brain except one phrase, repeating and repeating, No.
no. no.
She opened her mouth and forced out, “Your children?”
“Ours.”
“Oh.”
“Amber?”
“Uh huh?”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to want them too. It’s not like I’m going to
be here long enough to procreate.”
She hadn’t heard him admit his fate since that first day over the phone.
“I know you don’t want kids. I’m not asking you to do anything for me,
like give me one night of pleasure that would lead into an ever lasting legacy.
I don’t want that. I would not want you to be the single teenage mother of my
cancer ridden children. Not my intention. Don’t worry.”
Amber’s sigh of relief was audible. She hadn’t even been aware she’d
been holding her breath.
“I just- I’ve always wanted a baby. Always. And I’ll never have one.
“Amber, I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I’m going to miss so many
things. That’s all I’ve been thinking about recently. I’m not going to
graduate. I’m not ever going to get married. I’m never going to have kids. I
will never get old, retire, get divorced or even die in my wife’s arms at the
age of eighty two. I’m going to miss so much. And you will get to be there. You
will graduate. You will get married. You might even have a kid. And I sort of
feel like I hate you for that.”
She was crying now, there was no stopping the flood of tears that had
been unable to flow for six months. The wrenching, gasping sobs from her corner
of the truck were only masked by the less loud crying coming from the other
side.
“I hate you too,” She burst out, “I hate that you won’t have to go
through the loss. When you die, I have to go to the funeral! I have to live my
life! I have to go on. How will I do that without you? How will I do anything
when you aren’t here anymore?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
Amber shuffled to Simon, grabbing his hands and holding as tight as she
felt possible while trying not to bruise his delicate skin. “I hate you so
much,” She whispered, kissing him gently on his fingers.
“Me too.”
It was only after they’d continued stargazing in silence that Simon
tentatively asked:
“And when you said hate, you really meant love, right?”
“Shut up, dear.”
“Oh. Good.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Amber woke up slowly, snuggling closer to Simon and trying to ignore the
bright sunlight streaming through her eyelids. They’d fallen asleep in the back
of the truck, nestling under blankets and pillows, holding each other and
gazing at the night sky. And now it was over. Time to go home and continue
living in the stifling silence. But Amber didn’t want to leave. How could she
go back to that? They’d made a breakthrough in their relationship, an honesty
that hadn’t been possible before. Something had changed. It wasn’t as innocent
or as pure… it was better.
However, they couldn’t live in a farmer’s field, and she really didn’t
want her parents to start texting her about ‘intercourse’. The only course of
action was to get up.
Mother-trucker.
Amber raised herself to a seated position and yawned. It was too sunny,
her eyes couldn’t properly adjust. While her eyes were having a nervous
breakdown, she blindly fumbled around for her stuff and struggled with
her t-shirt. There’s something about clothing, she thought, somehow,
when you sleep, it manages to shrink two sizes, therefore making it impossible
to put on in the morning.
“Hey, Si, have you ever noticed how hard it is to get dressed in the
morning?” She asked, still trying to find the hole for her head in the stupid
shirt, “I think it’s because there are magical shrinking fairies that like to
shrink clothing and make everything a living hassle. It’d explain the fact that
this shirt is not working.”
She managed to pull the top into the correct place on her body and
glanced over at her boyfriend. Still sleeping. Well, what right did he
have to sleep when she had to get up so that they didn’t get weird texts from
their parents? If she had to deal with the sunlight and the oddly sized shirts
and the general lack of coherent thought and clothing, then, by gosh, he’d have
to as well.
“Hey, Si. Wake up.”
She lobbed a pillow at his sleeping form. It bounced off his chest. He
didn’t respond.
“Simon? Come on, this isn’t funny. Move your bum.”
No response.
“Simon, you’re scaring me. Wake up.”
Breathe. Breathe. He’s faking. He’s tricking you. He just wants you to
freak out. Nothing’s wrong. Oh god.
“Simon? Wake up. Wake up! Jesus Christ, Simon, if you are just trying to
get my goat this isn’t funny.”
Oh my god. I can’t deal with this. Calm, Amber. Take one step. Now
another. Good. Now check his pulse. Check.
“I can’t find it. Oh my god, I can’t find his pulse.”
Check his heartbeat, then.
“I can’t-“
Don’t just sit there crying. Phone someone. Get help.
“Okay. Okay. H-hello? Nine one one? Yes. Yes, he’s not w-waking up. No.
He’s got c-c-cancer- I don’t know w-what to- okay. Okay. A f-field. I don’t
know. I don’t know. He’s not waking up. P-please. I don’t know what to do.”
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Can he hear me?”
“We don’t know. Maybe.”
“This is it then?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I could have some time- you know, before-“
“Of course. The family’s already been through.”
“Thanks.”
“Do you want to be there when…”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone, then.”
…
“Hey, Si. It’s, uh, Amber. Of course. I mean, you ought to know my
voice, we were together for practically a year. Well, um. God, you look…
terrible. I can’t believe you’re here. I really can’t. People at school keep on
asking me where you are. I answered at first, that you’d gone to the hospital
for a while. After a week I couldn’t talk about it. Then the news came out. I
have never gotten so many flowers… And then, can you believe it, that greasy
jerk, Caleb, he came up to me and was all, like, ‘Hey, girl, I heard your
boyfriends dying. Does that mean you’re free to hook up now?’ I punched him in
the face. Broke his nose. He got suspended. I got to go to a therapist so that
I could deal with my anger. Which blows, because I’m not angry. I’m not! Not
anymore.
“I mean, it’s totally futile. I can be angry at you, but where does that
get me? I just feel terrible that I’m mad at a dying kid. I can be angry at
your parents. The fact that they can’t hold on… to you… I hate it. But I don’t
hate them. I guess I’m sort of angry at the world. I mean, why live in a place
where people die every day in vast droves and nobody cares? When people tell me
they’re so sorry- I want to hurt them. Because they aren’t. They really don’t
care about you. The nurse who patted my arm on the way in here? By next week
she’ll be patting another kid on the arm, saying she’s sorry that their sister
got sick. She won’t ever know how wonderful you are… were.
“Are you happy that this is it? Of course you aren’t… not really… I
know, you want to do so many more things in your life- but are you happy that the
pain will be gone soon? Are you in pain? Is listening to that terrible heart monitor
thing as terrible as I imagine? Can’t those doctors find anything more relaxing
than a loud, irritating BEEP BEEP BEEP? It’s dumb. You shouldn’t have to listen
to that. If I didn’t think it would hurt you I’d break the machine. You shouldn’t
have to listen. That shouldn’t be the last thing you hear. Oh god, can you
imagine dying to that? It’s like an answering machine with an unheard message. ‘Hello?
Hello? You’re dying. Just wanted you to know.’
“God, I’m sorry. I can’t handle this. I can’t believe that in ten
minutes….
“You know, I’ve cried so much in the last month that my parents are
thinking about taking me to a doctor. Salt deficiency, they think. Maybe a case
of depression. Well, no shit Sherlock. My boyfriend is in the hospital, about
to die! What the frick do you think I’m going to be feeling? Hunky dory?
“…
“Do you remember how we met? I don’t think I’ll ever forget. I thought
you were some sort of stalker/serial killer, standing there, watching me busk
for two hours. We ate cold Chinese on a sidewalk. Then you broke my ukulele by
accident. Did I ever tell you how much I love my new one? It’s beautiful. The
sound… I love it. Thank you.
“I haven’t played it since…
“I keep on worrying that I never said I loved you. I never told you how
much you meant to me. I hope you knew. I hope you still know. Because even though
I couldn’t say it then… Well, I guess I can’t say it now, either. But I do.
“I think it’s time to go. I can’t stay, Simon. I can’t watch. They say
it’s painless, but…
“I love you. I love you so much.
“Goodbye.”
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