I'm not afraid to face the truth. I could die of leukemia. Eventually, I'll have to shave my head. I could survive leukemia but either way, I won't have children. I'll miss both proms. I'll spend most of my life sitting in the doctor's office while my friends are getting their degrees and starting families. I will become the lonely like the last fallen leaf. I want to tell Katie but she is going to find a new best friend. I want to tell my mother, but I know she won't care. My mother will go on picking up papers, or whatever at the kitchen table. I will never live the life I wanted. Why wait for death to come to me? At least his arms were wide open for me to run straight into. I grab my keys and whip out of the drive way on my way to the doctor's office to get some blood work done and pay a co-pay.
I tossed the credit card in the passenger seat and noticed a note wrapped around the card. "I think it's time for some answers." in my mother's hand writing. My heart rate sped up. I reached to turn on the radio out of habit but stopped myself; the noise would be a distraction. What does this note mean? Is there some big secret I've been missing out on? Is this about my father?
Once upon a time, I had a happy family, until my father left. Nothing ever lasts. I can't say I blame him. Mom's hated me ever since. I disappointed her when I didn't want to cheerlead, when she bought me the pink dress she liked instead of the blue dress that I wanted, when I made Spaghetti for dinner and she didn't eat because she wanted Chicken Alfredo, when I got my got ears pierced instead of my cartilage because she didn't like it, when she had to run me back and forth to daycare and I interrupted her work schedule.
I'm the everyday reminder of him. I don't remember him, and the pictures of him are hidden somewhere. Maybe I'll find them someday. The phrase, "You're just like your father." comes up in daily conversation. And then I think, if I'm really like my father, I'll leave her too, someday. I think she has to love me somewhat, if she kept me and raised me. Right?
After I park my car I go to sit in the waiting room. The strange antiseptic scent makes my nose cringe. The faint tapping of feet across the tile is the only sound, chills cover my body from the cold, and the only person around is the receptionist sitting behind the glass door. Everyone here knows that I have leukemia now but I want to pretend that I'm here for a usual check up, but I'm not. Another car pulled up behind mine. An older looking man gets out and makes his way toward the bench where I am. I start to dry my tears; but what I do I care what this stranger thinks? He doesn't even know me. The stranger sits next to me. He doesn't even double take, ugly young girl with make up streaming down her face, sitting beside him. He's a little bit taller than me, short curly brown hair with gray hairs coming in, green eyes and casually dressed but he carried an old pocket watch that ticked loudly. Strange seeing as he can just go buy a digital watch, but maybe it was and heirloom.