The day was cooler than the last. Fresh, air blew over the lake, picking up the scents of the water and quenching the lungs of the people who navigated the trails encompassing it. The couple walked the gravel path, lazily dodging bikers as they rushed through. Their feet ground and rubbed against the rocks, skittering the lighter pebbles as they made their way through the park. Squirrels scurried through the leaves and birds hiding in bordering bushes took to flight as the two passed by. In the shadow of the forest along side the lake, Poppy nibbled away at her treat eagerly, while Branch savored his a bite at a time.
"I never knew they made double layered cookies filled with buttercream! This is fabulous!" Poppy squealed, her fingers still trebling with excitement as she clutched her prize.
Poppy glanced at the plain sugar cookie in the boy's hand.
"No chocolate chips today?"
Branch scoffed.
"I hear that chocolate's not good for me so I've been cutting down," he frowned. "Haven't had any in nearly 24 hours."
Poppy grinned with pride at the boy's small accomplishment.
"Hows that going for you?"
"It sucks fucking monkey ass," he grumbled.
Poppy squished against the cookie mush in her mouth with mild annoyance.
"You know, Branch, for a poet your language is pretty unrefined."
"I'm not a poet," said the boy.
"You write poetry, that makes you a poet," said Poppy, shoving another bite into her mouth.
Branch softly shook his head.
"I don't think that's how it works."
"Oh sure it is," Poppy muffled, her cheeks stuffed with viscus melting sweetness.
Branch cracked a smile at Poppy's unintentional but adorable chipmunk impression.
"Fine," he smirked. "It sucks disturbingly abhorrent monkey ass."
Poppy laughed, but immediately started to cough and sputter, when she accidentally inhaled the wet crumbs. Branch stopped walking and chuckled until Poppy was able to unobstruct her airway.
"How was that?" he grinned sarcastically.
"Your poetry must suck," she coughed.
"Mmmm..maybe," Branch mumbled, still smiling.
Their legs continued plodding the gravel walk that curved its way through the forest and around the lake.
"Sooooo..." Poppy began nervously. "You think, sometime, I can..."
"No."
She turned to the boy, irritated.
"You can't say no! You didn't know what I was gonna ask!"
"Sure I did."
Poppy frowned.
"Why not?"
"They're private."
Poppy groaned and shoved the remainder of the cookie in her mouth. The girl turned her head and took in the scenery as they moved. Poppy loved this time of year—the marshy scent of the water, the bitter fresh smell of the leaves, the sounds of fishermen's bobbers dropping into the water with a "plop."
"So..." Branch softly spoke.
Popped snapped her attention back to the boy in the blue shirt beside her.
"Why did you become a nurse?"
Poppy's eager words could hardly be contained-thrilled to be the subject of his curiosity.
"Actually, I didn't choose it out of the blue. I was originally a visual art major. I loved it—especially drawing! I LOVE to draw!"
Branch couldn't help but be drawn in by her enthusiasm.
"I think it's amazing how with a simple idea, you can affect how people feel and think. Make them hopeful or passionate or curious. I used to spend hours…"
Poppy paused, lost in the memory. Seeing the change in her face, Branch tilted his head with concern.
Poppy clicked back into reality, and sniffed.
"Anyway, it didn't work out. So, I did one of those personality quiz things? You know-the ones that match with careers you'd be good at? Nursing was right at the top of the list. I thought, hey! I can do that! I mean, I like people and I like making them feel better. So, I went for it!"
Poppy's shoulders relaxed, her expression cheerful but calm.
"And I'm glad I did," she smiled.
Branch mirrored her expression, thinking how close their lives came to never meeting.
Me too.
"Now I just sketch for fun."
Branch smirked.
"You think I could see one sometime?" he teased.
Poppy turned her head and blushed—watching the trees shift as they walked.
"I...they're private," she grinned shyly. "Besides, I'm really not that good."
Branch chuckled to himself.
The two walked in silence. Branch took another bite of his cookie. Suddenly, an idea struck Poppy and her face was alight.
"Tell you what—I'll make you a deal?" she stated with a sly smile and nudged the boy's elbow with her own.
"I'll show you a picture if you show me a poem."
"No."
"Come'on, Branch!" She whined. "What do you have to loose?"
"Respect."
"No worries—you never had that," Poppy smiled.
Branch snicked.
"Please? Just one little poem?" she pleaded, batting her long, dark lashes.
"Why are you pushing this, Poppy?" A hint of annoyance in his voice.
"Because I'm curious."
"Why? What does it matter?"
"What if, some day, you become a famous poet? Or a writer or something?!"
Branch scoffed. "That's not going to happen."
"You could end up being on the best seller list!" Poppy beamed, growing more excited as she talked.
As Branch listened to the girl, a black fog beyond his control billowed into his mind—chilling the warmth of the moment. Images sparked like lightening in the cloud, that crushed her sweet words into the desolating abyss of his reality.
"You could travel Europe promoting your book..."
Poppy's voice grew muffled and distant to his ears as the dark thoughts overpowered his mind.
"I'd be able to say that I knew Mr. R. Branch back when he..."
One image towered, stronger than all the others-like an obelisk of ice, slicing into his brain:
Dozens of notebooks were stacked neatly on the shelf, next to a small, unkempt bed. Poems and secrets had slowly filled their pages through the decade-each word chosen carefully before it was written. Years or months from now, someone would be sent to clean out the apartment. The collected keepsakes would be tossed into trash bins with photographs and other cherished items deemed meaningless to anyone else. Some may be donated to a worthy cause, giving remnants of a useless life one last ditch effort at a some sort of purpose.
"You can stop, Poppy..." he choked, but the girl didn't hear him.
Dust clouding the air, catching the sunlight as it swirled. Graded papers left scattered on the floor to be trampled on. Books tossed to the furnace and reduced to ash.
"Maybe you could make me a character..."
Empty shelves and empty cupboards. No shoes tossed lazily by the front door.
"Poppy...please..."
A white sign posted in front of the building—advertising vacancy.
"But she would have to have pink hair, because, come'on—it's kinda my thing..."
A picture of a young boy and a gray haired women, laughing...smiling...lies broken and forgotten, buried at the city dump.
"Ooohhh...could you make it a romance..."
Empty closets and barren walls. Silent and cold. No fragment of his life left to prove that he ever...that he had ever...
The ice shattered, and the boy exploded.
"Stop it, Poppy! None of that IS EVER GOING TO HAPPEN!"
The girl yelped and jumped away.
Branch froze, his jaw was clenched and his tongue pressed tight against his teeth.
The reflective sheen of creeping tears, glazed Poppy's wide orbs.
"W-why not?" her whisper hitching in her throat.
He looked at the girl. Her auburn eyes stared, confused with flicker of fear as she awaited an answer that he wasn't ready to give. His skin flamed with the turmoil that raged within. It pushed at the tears budding at the corners of his bright cobalt eyes. His lip trembled as he found his voice.
"I'm dying, Poppy," the boy whispered.
Poppy stepped back, involuntarily shaking her head, unable to accept what she was hearing.
"Wha? W-why would you say something like that?"
Her lips pouted and twitched but she fought to stay in control of her emotions.
Branch touched his fingers to his temples, mitigating the building pressure behind them. The boy gasped and slumped his chin to his chest. An ache clawed at his insides. Branch stood helpless to the regret devouring him over the small slip. The flood gate was now open and he couldn't swim. He couldn't find air. The boy was lost on what could possibly be the right thing to say at that moment. Trembling, Branch walked onto the small, floating dock just off the path. Resting his elbows on the railing, he pressed his hands over his eyes.
Poppy was at his side but he hardly noticed.
"Why do you think you're dying?" the girl whispered, unsure if she wanted an answer.
"Kidney failure is progressive-you know this. I can't stop it."
"B-but you're on dialysis. You're getting treatment. You can easily live another..."
"What, Poppy?!" he snapped. "Ten years? Then what?!"
Poppy was silent, her eyes holding back tears of her own. Branch groaned, and dropped his head to arms, his messy black locks dangled and danced in the breeze off the lake.
"I didn't want this. This is NEVER how I imagined my life to be." Branch inhaled another deep breath—the ache less present than before.
"I'm tired, Poppy," exacerbation choked his voice. "And I don't want this to be my existence...would you?!"
Poppy's frown was pulled tight.
"Are you going to hurt yourself?"
Poppy's voice was clear, clinical.
Branch grimaced
Always has to act like a nurse.
"I'm not suicidal, Poppy. I don't WANT to die."
Branch sighed and looked down past the surface of the lake. Plant life swayed in the water and tiny minnows darted through the reeds as the dock rose and fell with the gentle waves.
"Cancer...heart attack... kidney failure, these are all fucking natural causes. Just because I don't want to be tethered to a machine for the next decade and prolong the enviable, does NOT mean I'm suicidal. There's a difference."
Branch looked at the girl. His distraught features were a wash of disappointment.
"Dialysis is a choice, right? Of all people, Poppy...I thought you would understand that."
The pink-haired girl flicked her vision back and forth between the boy's eyes.
"No, No-no-no- wait." Poppy flustered. "Y-You, you have options! I know I gave you crap about the phosphorus, but your labs are actually really good, Branch! You're a fantastic transplant candidate..."
"I'm not getting a transplant!" He screamed and the girl flinched.
The boy's mouth twisted with despair and a few tears broke loose when the corners of his eyes crinkled from the engulfing anguish that tore at his heart. But after a few seconds, Branch felt powerless to hold the girl's gaze and dropped his eyes to the rippling water below.
"I don't understand it all, but my antibodies are very specific and the Doctor doesn't think.."
The boy pulled in another shaky breath.
"H-he doesn't think that we will ever find a match."
Poppy desperately flipped through her thoughts for another option-some hidden and glowing hope that could brighten this situation. But there was no bright side here.
Branch rested his head against his forearm.
"That kidney I'm waiting for?" he said weakly. "It...it's never coming. There's no hope...and I don't want to spend all that time waiting on a second chance that will never happen."
Poppy's sorrow hardened. Anger burned in her stomach and erupted through her body.
"That's bullshit!" She snapped.
Branch jumped at Poppy's outburst. He stared baffled at the fuming girl. Poppy's fists were clenched and her whole body was shaking. The muppet was pissed.
"Maybe things seem bad right now! Maybe you can hardly find the energy to get up in the morning and I have NO DOUBT that dialysis treatments suck big time! But you CAN NOT stand there and tell me that you don't want this life!"
The boy's jaw could not have dropped lower.
"As big of a pain in the ass as you are, and as grumpy and prickly as you try to be? With all of your complaints of being tired and hopeless? You still come to your treatment every darn time! When I blew your graft, you were scared. You were angry, sure, but you were SCARED! You didn't want to loose your dialysis access because no matter how hard things are and how pointless it all may seem, somewhere deep inside..."
Poppy poked hard into the boy's shoulder.
"You. Don't. Want. To. Give. Up."
The girl's gaze dove deep into those sparkling ice crystals, holding them with unrelenting strength to insure Branch heard every word.
"And that? Bud? That is HOPE."
Branch was a deer caught in the fucking headlights.
"Fuck, you really are all cupcakes and rainbows aren't you?" he mumbled.
"Can't really turn it off," she stated firmly.
For some reason, Branch found comfort in that answer. With a puff, he pushed himself away from the railing. He wiped the wet streaks from his cheek and returned to the gravel path.
Poppy felt a strong urge to wrap her arms around him. But, for reasons she didn't know, the girl resisted.
In a few quick steps, Poppy caught up to the boy's pace. Their stroll continued, side by side, and just a little closer than before.