Here's another update! :D It warms me to know you didn't unfollowed me! I am forever grateful to you! I want to thank themortalfangirl for giving me the first review... in a year lol xD
THANK YOU ALL!
Oh, almost forgot: I own nothing here! Just my characters!

THIRTY-TWO

I wish I could un-hear that, -"She has… what?"

-"A brain tumor, child."- An appropriate approximation of what he just said in my language was: she's dying, kid.

I knew shit of brain tumors, but I did knew that they were complicated to treat and usually, fatal. I laughed nervously, -"Would you stop joking? It's not really funny."

He looked at me seriously. I then looked at my father and I knew he also wished it was a joke. But it wasn't.

-"By what your father has told me, your mother has shown signs of brain tumor symptoms for quite a long time,"- He spoke, again with his calm voice which has begun to piss me off, -"Memory loss, abrupt alterations in mood and personality, hands tremor, missed periods, sensitivity to heat or cold…"- He sighed.

Was he… was he saying that it was our fault? That we didn't took care for her? I was about to argue with the old man, but now that I think of it… both me and dad have kind of abandoned her. Specifically me. Dad had work. I… I had only school and was doing practically nothing. My chest tightened.

-"Yes, I am saying that if these symptoms were perceived earlier, the treatment would be much more effective,"- He continued while pacing around the room, -"It is effortless to see that she has been under extreme stress,"- Since none of us were saying anything, he went straight to the bad news- if any of what he just said was good to begin with, -"I fear the tumor has progressed and empowered her brains cells. I will need to examine her closer and prosecute several tests to ascertain."

I gazed at dad. He had his head hung. I bet he already heard this and processed it. I, on the other hand, haven't yet bitten any of this. I couldn't processed it, couldn't accept it. Mom was fine just a few days ago! What the fuck happened? I can't believe this! Mom? With a brain tumor?

My legs wobbled and I slumped to the floor. My face fell right on her belly. My eyes adjusted to the darkness. How… how could this have happened? Why, mom? Why did you have to go sick all of a sudden? Was it me? Did I put you through all that stress?

The old man spoke, but apparently not to me, -"From previous meetings I have had with her, she often told me she had trouble dealing with the boy,"- He was speaking about me. I was in the room, but he didn't bothered lowering his voice, -"Is this still an issue?"

My dad took several seconds before answering, -"No…, it's not anymore."

-"Abandonment is also a cause for this tumor's development, small but a significant aide,"- He spoke professionally; again, I noted his ease at handling this, -"Would you kindly elaborate?"

My dad breathed heavily, -"Yes, I travel frequently to Sina City and yes, I've spent more time on my work."

-"I have no doubt you have good reasons for it, as you, evidently, are the only one working,"- The old man kept quiet for a few seconds and I felt his stare in me, -"What about the boy?"

-"He and his mother have a…,"- My dad sighed sorrowfully, -"… difficult relation."

-"So I have guessed,"- I still had my head on Mom's belly, but I slightly moved my head to the side and peeked. The old man was rubbing his beard, -"I recall your issues with the boy's bullies. Elaborate me on the matter."

It pissed me off how he ordered my father to tell him these things, why didn't he asked me instead? Bah, it would be pointless. I wasn't gonna tell him shit and he apparently figured that out. Even so, he has the right to ask. He is mom's doctor after all and he had to know, -"That has been… taken care of."- Dad looked away, clearly avoiding entering that topic since he didn't entirely knew. I remember last time when I spoke to him about that. He didn't seemed to buy it when I said that I wasn't being bullied anymore and instead was fighting them.

-"Glad to hear it,"- Yet still he noted my father's discomfort and side-stepping on that topic, -"That has, in fact, affected her as well."

The old man was going to ask more questions until I snapped, -"Ugh, enough with the questions!"- I yelled, lifting my head, -"Tell us how to get mom better!"

He arched an eyebrow down at me, disapproving of my bluntness, -"The tumor cannot be cured nor eliminated, only delayed,"- He gave me a quick glare, -"For you to understand, I will say it in an easier language: she will die either way."- He grinned when he said 'easier language'.

His honesty hurt. I gasped, feeling my chest squeezed tightly. She… she was going to die either way? It can't be cured? I suddenly had difficulty to breathe. This can't be happening to me right now…., of all the things that could happen, this?

-"It is up to you to decide if whether or not spending her last days of life with her is worth the effort,"- He spat at me. He then turned to father, -"I will call an ambulance and take her with me to begin the tests immediately. We shall later discuss the… payment."

The old man headed downstairs, pulling out his phone and making the call. Dad stayed in the room, walking slowly towards me, -"Son…"

Mom was going to die soon and the last thing I did with her was argue. My last though of her was how annoying she was. My last word with her was: –"Leave me the fuck alone, you crazy old woman!"- I sank deeper as I started remembering our last quarrel.

-"What do you want now?"- I yelled from my room, hearing mom hammering my door.

-"Open up, ya' tramp!"- She yelled back, now kicking the door.

-"What the fuck is wrong with you, woman!?"- I was so mad that I stopped calling her 'mom'. I was in the middle of a public match in CoD, -"I can't pause the goddamn game!"

-"I don't care!"- She began forcing the hand knob, -"Open up!"

Furiously, I left the party and stood up to open the door. If it was the only way to shut her up…!

Only when I let her enter, she didn't dilated on buffeting me.

Looking away, I gaped my mouth. I totally didn't see that one coming. Rage began filling me. With hand on my cheek, I yelled, -"What the fuck was that for?"

-"I told you wash the goddamn dishes, didn't I?"- She began to lift up her slipper.

I stepped back, -"What-? You told me you'd do it!"- Literally, just a minute ago, I was about to wash the dishes since I though helping her out with the house's chores would improve our relation; but she suddenly told me she'd do it herself. I objected and she began arguing with me. I, wanting to avoid more quarrel between us, left it there and now…

-"I told you to do it yerself! Don't try to wiggle out of this one, you sly done-idle!"- She raised her slipper, walking closer to me, -"Don't think you can fool me that easily!"

I stared at her while stepping back: her hairs was a mess, her eyes were twitching, she was walking one legged and somehow looked paler. I grew worried until she hit me, hard, with her slipper on my shoulder, -"For fuck's sake, stop! I'll do it!"- I didn't want to actually; I was so, so angry. Why did she have to make such a fuss for some fucking dishes?

I began to walk away, but she kept hitting me, -"What the fu- stop! Why are you hitting me?!"- I was so angry that I dashed out of the room. She followed me and I ended up back in room, closing the door. She kept punching and kicking the door like a baby in a tantrum, -"Leave me the fuck alone, you crazy old woman!"- I yelled.

Then, she stopped and started coughing. I pondered if whether or not go out and check on her. Before I could come up with a decision, dad came, -"What is- are you alright!?"- He asked her, but she stayed silent and then, nothing. Both of them left.

I didn't leave my room, I was completely alone until dad came in, -"Son, we need to talk."

I sighed, irked, -"What? About how mom went full berserk on me?"

-"Why did you spoke to her like that? I told you to-"

-"Yeah, yeah, I know,"- He told me to work on our relation, help her out and to work specially on my tone and language, -"I tried, alright?"- I told him the whole thing about the dishes.

-"You should've just do it."

I gaped my mouth, stunned at how cool he seemed about all this, -"She was hitting me, dad! Look!"- I raised my shoulder. I had a sleeveless tee, so he could easily spot the mark of her slipper she left on me.

He sighed, rubbing his forehead, -"If only you'd just kept quiet…"

I gaped my mouth, not believing this, -"How could I stay shut? She-was-fucking-hitting-me!"- I repeated, making faces with syllable.

-"You see? You need to control your language,"- Dad sighed and before I could argue once more, he interrupted me, -"And learn when to keep quiet."

What the fuck? My crazy mother was attacking me and he didn't wanted me to defend myself? It's not like I'd hit her or anything, but I couldn't just keep shut! I try to help her and she goes all crazy and maniac on me, -"I was trying to reason with her!"- And somehow, I couldn't keep my mouth shut with him either. My heart and mind raced furiously.

-"Listen, son,"- Dad breathed heavily, glancing back at the door, -"Your mother is getting old. Just… taking it easy with her."

What? Was he saying she's forgetting things now? Oh, but I bet my goddamn life that she wouldn't forget her favorite novel's channel.

With that, he left.

Later that afternoon, she went asleep early and I could hear her coughing on her room. I felt like I should apologize, but for what? I tried to help her and she starts hitting me, I try to avoid arguing with her and she's ungrateful, no thanks or anything. Instead, I turned to my room and played CoD.

I started crying without realizing as Marco's words spun around me, -"You need to reconcile with her!"- He said, eyes filled with worry and experience, -"You never know when God will take her away!"- I now regret not doing that sooner.

You never know when God will take her away…

You never know when God will take her away…

Those words seemed to be the only thing I'm hearing now. God, why are you taking her away now?

A cold feeling enveloped me. Was this… how depression felt? It felt familiar and old. I've forgotten all about it…

-"Son, listen to me,"- I hear dad calling me while shaking me slightly, lifting me up, -"Everything's going to be alright, you-"

I shoved his hand away, -"How can you say that?!"- I looked straight at him in the brink of exploding in tears, -"She's dying! Nothing's okay!"

-"Son, please…,"- He squeezed my shoulder again, -"The doc is going to start the treatments soon, so-"

I grunted and left the room, unable to hear him anymore.

After that, the ambulance arrived and took mom. I watched it leave from my room. Afterwards, I went to take a shower. Inside, I sat and leaned on the corner, wrapping my arms around my knees. I rested my head on my knees and looked down the bath's white tiles. I wandered through my thoughts, feeling my head heavy. Mom? Dying? Mom never got sick. Her immune system was rough. What happened? What could made a tumor on her brain?

I squeezed my knees as I remember our fights. That was the closest we've gotten as a "family conversation". Mom and I never got along well. She was strict and loud mouthed, she always embarrassed me in front of everyone when I was younger and never allowed me to go to a friend's party or whatever. I really, really couldn't stand her. Dad was the complete opposite, so I got better with him. Fact is, my mom gave me this life –which I'm now hating, gave me the opportunity to live, to simply be. She gave me food when I was a bean in her belly, she shed tears of both pain and joy when she pushed me out of there and smiled when I first opened my eyes. She gave me birth; and I've never thanked her for that, if I ever thanked her for anything.

I began to cry nonstop. My eyes burned, but I couldn't stop. I raised my hand and covered my mouth to prevent wails from escaping my lips. Instead, I choke on them, feeling my throat knotting. Eventually, I choked and my wails echoed around the bathroom, bouncing from wall to wall. They were loud, so loud that I didn't hear several knocks on the door, -"Son… someone wants to speak with you."

I didn't answer and instead continued my weeping.

-"Son…"

-"Leave me alone."- I said, sobbing and sniffing. My voice was low and unintelligible, a complete mess.

-"Please, it's important."

I raised my head a bit. Why would calling me, of all people, be important? I wasn't popular.

-"It's your friend, son. He really wants to talk to you."

Oh… him. My "friend".

I somehow stood up, I don't know when or why. It's as if my body was programmed to move and act of its own whenever it comes to Marco. I just couldn't ignore him. I had no other explanation, really.

I quick-washed myself and stepped out. The bathroom was humid and hot. How long have I been there? I changed up to my usual shorts and a plain white tee. Outside, dad waited for me with the house's phone in hand. I took it and raised it to my ear.

It's as if time froze. I knew Marco was on the other line. Marco. Not just anyone… Marco. Images of what happened at his house surfaced. I still felt that sensation of having him below me, so flustered, blushed and vulnerable; however, it didn't smother the coldness I had, in fact, it lend more coldness as I recalled how disrespectfully I touched him.

-"Jean?"- He asked after a few moments of silence of my part. God, his voice…

-"Uh… yeah?"- I answered stupidly.

-"How are you?"

-"I'm…,"- I paused; how was I? -"Um… I'm fine."

-"Are you sure?"

I shrugged, as if he were in front of me and said nothing.

-"Jean,"- He continued, his voice filled with worry, slowly soothing me, -"I know what happened. Your father told us."

I quietly glanced at father, who waited for me beside the door, giving him a query look. I then wondered how Marco got our number, -"Oh."- It's all I managed to say.

-"It's going to be alright, I promise."

Great, Marco said it too, -"How?"- I asked, -"She's dying, Marco… and I can't do anything to stop it."

-"We all die, Jean, eventually,"- He said, not really cheering me up if that's what he was trying to do, because I already knew that, -"We can't know when or why. It's His will."

-"Why did He decided to take her all of a sudden? Why her of all people? To make me suffer more? I think He has a sense of humor."- I said, a bit mockingly, fully aware that Marco was a Cristian. He didn't told me or anything, I just noticed a few of His crosses in his home. I wasn't much of a believer, but I never disrespect Him or any Cristian.

Marco chuckled. What was so funny? -"No, Jean, he doesn't want to make you suffer. Maybe it was her time to join Him, don't you think? Or maybe… he wanted you to see, to make something to fix the discord you had with her."

I laughed out loud unintentionally, -"See what? And what's the point now? Look, you're not making any sense. I'm grateful for what you're doing, really."

But that didn't stopped him from attempting to cheer me up; however, I've kind of noted that that wasn't the only thing he was attempting at, -"You'll see."

I sighed, tired of his confusing words. Religious chatter wasn't really my thing.

-"Jean, do you want to know what happened to my father?"- I was about to hung up until his words stopped me. When I didn't say anything, he continued after a chuckle. I bet he was making one of those smiles that warmed and melted me, -"I'll tell you in school, but I need you to be alright by then. No sad faces or gloomy endeavor, okay?"

It took me a while to speak, -"O-okay…"

-"Okay. See you on Monday, then?"

A small smile formed on my lips as the thought of just seeing him surfaced, -"Yeah."

I hanged up, the knot still on my throat and I now realized just how much I missed that freckled idiot, even after all that happened between us. I didn't understand his words and I felt bad for having regarded God like I did, but I knew he was trying to make me see and understand something. Nothing gets through this coconut I had at first try. Was he trying to make me a Cristian? I couldn't tell. I didn't believed there was a God over us, or at least one influencing me. My past self was a perfect witness. Was I Atheist? I didn't hate him or anything, I just felt like he wasn't there when I needed him more.

I tried not giving that much though as a sudden headache spanked me. I rubbed my head and turned around to give dad the phone. He went for some pills and when he brought them along with a glass of water, he sat beside me and spoke, -"Son…,"- He had his hand on my back, slightly rubbing it, -"I know this must be hard on you, but it'll be okay,"- He thought I was about to tell him that it wasn't okay, so he quickly continued, -"Yes, she will die eventually but…,"- He took my hand and placed it where his heart was located and his other hand on my chest, where mine was, -"… she'll be here, with us."

I looked up at him, not really following him, but I understood what he was trying to do. All that fantasy of people remaining at our hearts was just a kid's tale to remedy sorrowful feelings; that reminded me of a game I really didn't bonded with. I just smiled at him and nodded.

He nodded back at me, rubbed my head and left the room.

I went to sleep –or better yet, try to sleep. I stared at the ceiling, trying to avoid thoughts. Since I couldn't take it anymore, I turned on the PS3 and played CoD. It distracted me from this mess of a life I had.

So, yup, Marco's Christian! I just though it'd be cute, it kinda adds to their relationship, right?

Anyhow, if I offended you in any way, please let me know! It's not my intention to make you feel offended!

Edit: In this chapter, I wrote I was a Cristian too, but things change, I changed. I'm non-theistic. You may not care and I understand, I just though I should let you know.