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ONE
Haven't Lived
LUX
To dreamof dying was the worst and greatest way to wake. Because hello, I was alive. But also, because, hello, the way I died was a direct reflection of the way I lived.
The funeral was nice,I thought and rolled over. Outside my second-floor window stood an enormous red maple. Excitable Blue Jays were busy building a nest of twigs, bits of dried grass, fluff, and whatever else they could find. They reminded me of lovers working as a team to create a place for their little ones.
Wistfully, I wondered if I'd ever get to experience such a thing. A husband. Children. A place of my own. I'd read plenty of historical romances where they found each other in the end and lived happily ever after. Each time a book ended; my heart would race with longing for a chance at having what fictional characters had—a chance at love.
One of the birds landed on my windowsill and pecked the glass as though to scold me for still being in bed. Like he knew today was a big day. But it was one I'd rather forget.
"Mallory Luxor Briggs!"
It was always serious when Mom used my full name.
A glance at the time revealed I wasn't even that late. "No," I groaned and tugged the comforter over my head. The scent of fresh fabric softener filled my lungs. The bedding had been cleaned last night as they were every night. Mom was a stickler for sanitation.
I breathed deeply, wishing with my every heartfelt desire that I could skip my appointment. Just blow off the meeting with the doctor and do something fun—something that wasn't about life and death, specifically mine.
"Lux!"
"I'm awake," I mumbled, coiling myself tighter in the soft down and trying to smother my ears.
The worst day of the year had slowly crept its way around the calendar and arrived again. It seemed to sneak up on me quicker and quicker the older I got. And after the dream I'd had, like a fucking premonition, I knew the news wouldn't be great.
I'm fine,I thought.
"You're going to be late!"
"Will not," I replied, keeping my voice light even though several curse words entered my mind. But it was true. Ten years into my diagnosis, and I had the timing, including the traffic, the synchronization of the stoplights, and everything in-between down to the very last detail.
There was always a tail back on Fourth, but if I cut down Polly Drive and across Grandview Ave, I could make it no matter how much I left it to chance.
The Pediatric and Cancer Hospital. That was my destination.
Okay, so I wasn't in the children's ward anymore, but that didn't matter. It was still the same building, just a different wing. Year in and year out—needles and scans. Appointments and discussions. Blood work and prescriptions.
"If I bring you coffee, will it help you haul ass?" The door edged open an inch, followed by the faint aroma of roasted beans, always slightly scalded by mom's brewing approach.
I sighed into the cotton. Maybe this time, I wouldn't take the cut through. Maybe I would just be late, plain, and simple.
"Probably not," I mumbled, sounding like a child instead of my twenty-two years.
A firm grip pulled on my exposed big toe.
"You know you have to go," Mom said.
Did I think so? Did I?
Battling my way out of the blankets, I scowled at my already dressed and perfectly put-together mother. "So says you. But you're not the one to get jabbed and examined, scrutinized like a lab rat." Just thinking about all I could expect caused me to swallow down another groan.
"It'll be fine," she said, walking over to my window and yanking it open.
Easy for her to say. She wasn't the patient. But I kept that to myself. Late spring in Tallahassee was a beautiful time of the year, thanks to all the colorful and scented blossoms.
"If you let me come with you, I could keep you company," Mom whined. She turned and faced me, a wisp of sadness on her aging face.
