End of Chapter 4

The monster roared to life, and she turned to look at me before pulling out, giving me a very un-ladylike gesture. I laughed, and got into my car.

"I see you made a friend today," Alice muttered looking from Bella's retreating truck and me.

"Maybe not," I said as my baby purred to life, and we headed for home.

Chapter 5: Reality Bites (BPOV)

I realized that I had re-read the same page of my history notes for the fifth time, and still had not absorbed one word of it. I was sitting in the waiting room of the treatment center waiting for the end of my dad's appointment. This was week four of his first round of chemotherapy. Charlie and Carlisle both agreed that Charlie's appointments should be scheduled for after school hours, so not to disrupt my education. So, I used the hour I had to spend in the waiting room as a study hall of sorts. I was actually thankful for any homework I had, as it provided a distraction from this waiting room. I realized after the first two of Charlie's weekly treatments that I needed something to keep my eyes and mind from those who sat around me on the burgundy upholstered chairs. Each sallow face and every bald head was a painful reminder of what the future held for Charlie. More frightening were the people who sat with them with just as pallid skin, and dark circles the color of violets under their eyes. Why weren't they sleeping? Was it because of the worry? Was it because of being up all night caring for the one getting the treatment? I shook my head to clear my thoughts. Charlie was good so far, though. He had less energy than normal and it made him a little irritable, but mostly he just slept more. Maybe Charlie would be different.

I closed my eyes, and tried to think about anything other than where I was at the moment. I thought about the last four weeks of school. It was nothing exciting. High school never was, really. Alice Cullen was doing her best to befriend me. It started when she had congratulated me on the second day of school before our English class got started on completely flustering her brother. I had to smile at that myself. Bantering with Edward was a bit of a salvation for me. It made me feel almost normal. It was like I could forget my situation for a moment, because my brain was absorbed with the verbal sparring match. That didn't end with the first day. We were mostly civil, but by the end of biology class each day, snide remarks laced our conversation. If he wasn't such a pompous ass, I just might like Edward Cullen.

The sound of the doors of the treatment area clicking open brought me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see my dad slowly walking out. Dr. Cullen was walking with him. I stood up quickly, grabbing my bag, and walked over to him. He somehow looked weaker today. I couldn't pin point what it was exactly, but something had shifted. If I was really in the moment, I would have realized it was the tides.

"Hello, Bella," Dr. Cullen greeted me.

"Hello, Dr. Cullen," I answered. "How are you today?"

"I am quite well, thank-you," he met my eyes as he said it, and gave a look over to Charlie and slightly furrowed his brow before returning his gaze to me.

"Can I give you a hand to your car?" Dr. Cullen asked.

"I'm fine, doc," Charlie tried standing a little taller as he said it. Ah...we were being a tough guy today. He must be feeling bad.

"Would you mind if I took your arm, dad?" I could play this game of stroking the ego. "You saw how I almost fell on the way in. No need for both of us to be patients here."

He gave a weak laugh at that, and held out his arm to me. I grabbed it trying to subtly place it so it was supporting him, just in case. Dr. Cullen, realizing what I was doing, winked at me and walked away.

Charlie was completely silent on the way home. He seemed a little paler than usual. Maybe I was just construing the worst after sitting around the waiting room all afternoon. When we got home, Charlie made no movement at first to get out of my truck. He stared at the door handle for a moment like the mere idea of having to lift up on it was exhausting him. I got out of the cab quickly, and hurried around to his door and opened it for him.

"Need an arm to lean on?" I asked sheepishly.

"I can get out of the damn truck myself, Isabella." Charlie snapped.

I bit back the tears that were threatening my eyes, and stepped aside to let him get out. He slowly shuffled up to the house, and I stood behind him, out of his line of sight, and had my hands ready to catch him if need be. Once inside, I suggested to Charlie that he relax and watch some television while I made dinner. I tried not to help him into his chair, but brought over the throw from the couch and laid it across his lap once he was sitting. I walked away quickly to the kitchen before he could protest, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw him bring it up tightly under his chin. I smiled softly to myself, and started dinner. I made a simple dinner of some grilled chicken and egg noodles for dinner, figuring Charlie might not be up for much. We ate it quietly together, and Charlie excused himself. He went up the stairs and a quicker pace than he had been moving. I didn't think much of it, until I heard the sound of him retching from the bathroom over the sound of the dishwater I was running. I shut off the water, and walked quietly up the stairs. I didn't hear anything, so I lightly tapped on the door.

"Dad," I called softly, "are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Bella," he said. I could tell he was still over near the toilet.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked.

"I said I am fine!" He called out louder.

"OK. I'll be downstairs if you need anything." I said quietly as I walked back down the stairs, letting the tears fall down my cheeks silently and muffling my sobs in my elbow.

I had collected myself by the time Charlie had re-emerged, and settled himself back into the chair in the living room. I had set a glass of water on the table beside his chair, figuring he would need it even if he was being too stubborn to ask for it. I threw a load of laundry in before settling down on the couch to finish up my homework while Charlie flipped back and forth between ESPN and some fishing show. Around ten o'clock, I noticed that Charlie was starting to doze off.

"Dad," I whispered. "Let's get you to bed. You'll be more comfortable there."

"OK, Bells," he conceded groggily. He tried to get up, but for the first time, I knew he didn't have the strength. I reached over and pulled him up from his chair, and we slowly made our way up the stairs to his room. The ten steps up seemed to take all of his energy, so I sat him down on his bed, and set his night clothes next to him. He started to try to unbutton the flannel shirt he was wearing, but it was like he couldn't get his fingers to cooperate. I placed my hand gently on top of the one that was fumbling with the buttons, and he looked at me and nodded resigning to my help. I got his shirt off of him, and helped him put on a t-shirt. I untied his shoes and took off his socks. He said he would handle the rest.

"Is there anything you need before I head to bed, dad?" I asked.

"No, Bells," he said. "Good-night."

"Good-night, dad." I said. "I'll be in my room if you need anything."

He waved me off, and I closed the door behind me. I made quick work of my nighttime bathroom routine, in case Charlie had a repeat performance of after dinner. I had read all the literature that Dr. Cullen had given me at the clinic about the drug they were giving Charlie and his side effects. He had already been fatigued, and now the puking. God, I really didn't have the stomach for this, but I had to suck it up...for Charlie. I had to be strong for Charlie.

I went back to my room to try to finish up the homework that I didn't finish at the clinic. I was right in the middle of my biology notes for our lab tomorrow when I heard Charlie's door being wrenched open, and the bathroom door being slammed shut. Then I heard the puking. It sounds so violent, that I shove my ear buds into my ears, and crank up the volume on my iPod. It doesn't help. I can still hear it, and the tears are falling before I can even think to stop them. Soon it stops, and I put my iPod down. I quietly open my door, and apprehensively walk over to the bathroom door. I tap gently.

"Dad?" I ask quietly.

"What, Bella," he says quietly. He sounds so exhausted.

"Are you OK?" I ask.

"I'm fine," he sighs. I can hear him stand up. The water in the sink begins running, I assume he is washing out his mouth.

"Would you like me to help you back to bed?" I ask as I lean my head against the closed door. Suddenly, the water shuts off, and the door is pulled open. I nearly fall forward.

"I'm not a fucking child, Bella!" Charlie yells as he pushes past me and stomps off into his room and slams the door. I run back into my room, and close my door sliding in a heap on the floor in front of it, and sobbing uncontrollably.

"It's just the sickness talking. It's just the sickness talking." I whisper to myself in between sobs.

The next thing I am aware of is my alarm clock going off the next morning. I go to move, and I am completely stiff from falling asleep on the floor last night. I stand up and stretch feeling the vertebrae in my back pop. I walk over and turn off the alarm, and head to the bathroom. I try not to remember why it was that I was sleeping on the floor, but when I get to the bathroom, I find the toilet lid still up from last night's pukefest. I walk over and cringe to see the violence of it was not contained within the bowl. I stand there determining whether to clean it now, or just wait until after school. I decide to just do it now, and pull out my trusty Clorox wipes, and hold my breath, as I clean up the toilet and surrounding floor. Because of the cleaning, I don't get to take my usual relaxing shower. Instead I wash quickly, and get moving. I throw on some jeans and a long sleeved v-neck t-shirt and some boots. I toss my hair up into a quick bun in the back of my head to keep the wet hair off of my back, and I don't have to worry about drying it this way.

I hurry downstairs to cook up some breakfast for Charlie before I leave. I just make some oatmeal. Something else that I figure will be easy on his stomach. I bring that up with a cup of coffee and some apple juice on a tray. I knock quietly on his door, and open it.

"Hey, dad," I whisper.

"Yeah, Bells," he says quietly from his bed turning to me and trying to let his eyes adjust from the light spilling in from the hallway.

"Sorry to wake you," I continue to speak in a whispered voice. "I brought you some breakfast, and your lunch is made and in the fridge. I have to leave for school in five minutes. Is there anything else you need before I go? I can stay if you need me to."

"No, no, no," he says. "You have to go to school. I will be fine."

"OK," I say giving him a soft smile. "I'll just leave your tray here." I set it down on his side table. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do," he says. He lays back down and rolls over. This conversation is done.

I hurry back to my room to gather my stuff for the day. Crap! I didn't finish my stuff for the biology lab. I'll do it at lunch. I shove everything into my backpack, stop at Charlie's door to listen to his soft snoring, before I head down the stairs, grab my keys, and head out the front door. The whole drive to school I am wracked with worry about leaving Charlie alone today. I wish there was a friend or someone I could call to check in on him during the day to make sure he is alright. But there was no one. I was his someone. High school just got infinitely more meaningless.

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A/N: This chapter has a special dedication. This is to roxymar, without whom, this chapter would be meaningless drivel. She was so kind to me to share her own experiences with taking care of her dad while he battled cancer. She has provided me, and in turn you, with beautiful and heart-wrenching threads that I hope to weave into something beautiful, honest, and true to her experience, and in turn creating Bella's. Love ya, lady.