out the door and weâre left to fend for ourselves.
I speak before anyone has a chance to say anything: âI donât want to talk about this any more tonight.â
âBut Evieââ
âPlease, Dad. I have a migraine. Iâm really tired.â
âLetâs let her rest,â Mom says, though I know it pains her. I know that what she really want is to be by my side all day and all night, holding my hand, keeping me talking. Especially now that she knows for sure that her time with me is almost over. I think this is what I should want too, but what I want more than anything right now is to be alone.
âYou might as well go home,â I say. âAll Iâm going to do is sleep.â
âAre you sure?â Mom says. âI could stay with you. Are you sure you donât want to talk? This is a lot to deal with. It doesnât feel right to just leave you here all alone.â
âMom,â Jenica says. âShe said she wants us to leave. We should respect her wishes.â Thank you, Jenica.
They take turns kissing me good-bye, and it strikes me how my family has become so efficient with our love. It takes all my strength to hold on to my neutral face as they file out the door. As soon as it closes behind them, my lips can finally rest in their usual grimace. I press the button to call the nurse so I can ask for a sleeping pill.
I lie in bed, alone, in darkness, waiting for yet another pill to soften the pain, hoping itâll happen before the feelings Iâve managed to avoid catch up with me. If thereâs one consolation of dying, itâs that it wonât be too long until I can stop pretending Iâm not.
And so I guess this means it is time to die. Itâs time to let everyone off the hook, let Mom and Dad get on with their lives and stop wasting all their energy on the wrong daughter. Kasey shouldnât have to spend her precious free time at my bedside. And Willâmy sweet, loyal, perfect Willâitâs time to let him have something besides this dead-end love, let him find someone he can actually have a future with, let him become someone besides the guy with the dying girlfriend. Itâs time to let them all go. Itâs time to stop dragging them down with me.
The thing they donât understand is, this is not life. This is a vague, cruel shadow of life. I am ready even if they arenât. Iâm ready to say good-bye.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOFâNOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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three.
THEREâS NOTHING MORE DEPRESSING THAN VALENTINEâS Day in a childrenâs hospital. Nothing.
Iâll give them credit, thoughâtheyâre valiant in their efforts to make it not suck. All the nurses are wearing pink scrubs, with various heart-shaped and glittery accessories. There are a million art supplies in the kidsâ playroom to make valentines. We woke up this morning to pink bags hanging off of everyoneâs door, filled with candy and fancy pencils and other random little toys. Someoneâs mom arrived with several Tupperware containers full of fresh-baked cookies, enough for every Cancer Kid to have at least two.
The little kids are falling for it, and Iâm glad. Itâs good to see them smiling and busy, doing something besides sitting in bed watching TV with their exhausted families. I wish I could join them like I used to, but every attempt at re-creating normal life in here, every special event or activity, just makes me sad. I should have been down there with them like Caleb, nostalgic for his days as an assistant Sunday school teacher, distributing scissors and glitter and helping them laugh. But instead, Iâm in the empty teen lounge, watching Stella deface the new issue of Seventeen magazine. This destruction seems more in line with what Iâm feeling. I canât deal with sick kids right now.
My parents have finally