Dear Dipper,
Having leukemia is scary. But I know I'll get better. Most people do, right?
I felt worse for you than I did myself.
It was sad watching you fall apart like that. Every time you see me, you seem to die a little more. We don't have money to help me much, but I can wait (Is that even legal to make me wait?) because I believe in you.
Dear Dipper,
I don't feel right. Grunkle Stan says it's because I'm "high as a kite" on the medication, but it beats all the pain I was in.
The doctor says I might die. But I'm not going to give up.
The thought of dying is scary. What if I became a zombie? Eww.
Dear Dipper,
Mom and Dad were going to visit today. But they didn't. I didn't want you to see me cry about it, so I suggested you hang out with Wendy. When you declined, I felt really appreciated. Like, you'd rather stay with me than the girl of your dreams. You're awesome.
You seemed different today. What did Grunkle Stan tell you that killed your mood like that?
Dear Dipper,
You couldn't hold back your tears today. But that was okay. You don't have to pretend you're not scared, because I know you are.
Your eyes are red whenever I see you. Either you got into Grunkle Stan's stash of "special medicine", or you've been crying an awful lot.
I made a list of things to do when I get better. It's coming along great.
You left the hospital really quickly. It freaked me out. But Grunkle Stan kept me company. He said he thinks I'm going to be fine, but I knew he was lying. He told me a lot of stories, too. I tried politely to stay awake as he went on and on about that time he killed a black widow, when he had that dream about the carrots and the raccoons(you know the one), and that time he let Kylie climb the town statue so he could take a cool picture. He sure does have a lot to talk about.
Dear Dipper
I feel really weak today. You were both at the doctor's, and I was alone.
I spent a lot of that time crying. You weren't there to tell me it was alright and hum that lullaby mom used to sing to us when we couldn't sleep. I feel empty inside.
I'm not going to lie. I don't think I'm going to live now. You always told me if I died, you wouldn't be able to live with yourself. I hope you don't do anything crazy. I'd be upset if you couldn't move on.
Dear Dipper
We're going home. I don't want to, though. I wanted to stay so I could get better.
I wanted to fill out all the pages so that you'd have something to remember me by. And if I lived, you'd be like "Aha, Mabel wrote that.".
But that's okay. I never seem to be able to finish anyth
I wiped my tears. I had been so focused on how miserable I was, I never took into account how she felt. I never fully realized what she was experiencing. All of her dreams and hopes for the future washing away. Her family arguing about her. It was all so clear now. My monochromatic, one-sided mind set had taken its toll on her. I was upset because I couldn't see her grow up. Because she wouldn't be there when I got married, and she wouldn't be with me when I pursued my goals.
The thought consumed me the rest of the way there.
San Diego was a beautiful city.
The bus dropped us off in a small shopping district. It was about 4PM, and we weren't exactly sure where it was from there. We couldn't have been too far. We kind of of knew where it was, but we were slightly lost.
"Can we eat first?" Mabel suggested. "I'm hungry."
This was news to me, as she didn't have much of an appetite before.
"O-of course," I nodded with a smile. We almost went to Taco Bell, but we settled for a small Burger joint. (I had a strange nightmare about Taco Bell once.) We sat at a booth across from each other, and I sat the suitcase next to me.
I was so glad she had an appetite. Because I didn't. I hadn't eaten since the day we took her to the hospital.
"You're not hungry?" she took one bite, then another. "Come on, Dipping Sauce. It's good for you."
I scrutinized the burger.
"I wouldn't call it...good for you, exactly. I'm pretty sure this is soy meat. Or horse."
She giggled.
"But it's delicious soy or horse meat."
I poked at my burger with a fork. She was only halfway done with her double bacon cheeseburger when she hurriedly stood up.
"What's wrong?" I asked her.
"I-I'm not-" her face turned nearly green. "I'll be right back!"
She rushed to the bathroom, nearly tripping on her own feet, without another word.
I felt bad for her. Maybe the meat was bad. Or maybe it just didn't agree with her.
I waited several minutes. She didn't return.
Then it clicked. Something was wrong.
I ran to the bathroom door. It was a one-person unisex bathroom, so she had to be in there.
"Mabel?" I knocked a few times and waited for an answer. Nothing. "Mabel! MABEL!"
The door was locked, and I shoved my entire body against it several times. Finally, I kicked it open, and she lay on the floor, a small pool of blood and bile beneath her face.
"D-D-Dipper...where...are you?" she murmured, almost inaudibly.
"No, No, Mabel, I'm right here," I held her head up on my knees. She was drifting in and out of consciousness. She finally sat up and puked into the toilet a few times. I held her hair and patted her back. I didn't even want to look. I knew she was dying, and I didn't need to see scarring images to know that.
"It's...c-cold in here...," she mumbled. I took off my shirt and covered her with it horizontally like a blanket.
"Deep breaths, Mabel...," I tried to calm her down, though I began to hyperventilate. "M-Mabel...come on, not now...you can't be sick now...we haven't even gotten to the cafe yet."
The mention of the cafe made her vomit again.
"No...," she said. "We're still- ugh...we're still going...Dipper, w-w-w-we can't stop now...I'll get better...I'll be good..."
"I'm...so sorry, Mabel," I sniffled. "I should have listened to Stan...I should have just raised that money. Why am I so stupid?! Ugh!"
She wiped her mouth.
"Let's just...," she hiccuped. "Let's go...do the thing...We can pick up some medicine from the store..."
If it was what she wanted, I couldn't argue.
I put my shirt back on, picked her up and carried her on my back. I grabbed the suitcase and we headed out.
We walked into a rather sizable Wal-Mart. I let Mabel down and picked up some Tums. I began to look at the ginger ales. I turned when I heard a familiar voice.
"Please...come home, Kids."
I looked up.
"Grunkle Stan?"
There were about a hundred television sets. Each had Stan on it, being interviewed. I dropped the suitcase in shock.
"Woah...," Mabel looked up. "Is it just me, or do these TVs make Grunkle Stan look thinner?"
"I know I said some things," Stan continued. "But I couldn't live with myself if you two got hurt. So please-"
Wendy took the microphone and the camera sloppily shifted to her.
"Dipper, look, I know you're upset, but please...," tears rushed down her freckled cheeks, and every television echoed throughout the store."Please, just come back to Gravity Falls. I need to know you two are okay..."