Unrealistic

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Eric

When we were starting elementary school Be’s dad built a tree house for her to play in since the yard wasn’t big enough for a swing set. I remember the two of us spending countless Friday nights in that very place. Sometimes her dad would let us eat dinner up there, then late at night we would tell scary stories before we fell asleep.

At her last chemotherapy session Be had added yet another segment to the bucket list. She said she wanted us to spend one last night together in the tree house, just like we used to. Be had rules too: no cancer talk, no bucket list, no mention of death, and no crying. If either of us broke a rule we would be kicked out to sleep on the ground.

So here I am folding all the blankets I can find into a pile. Then I begin packing my duffle bag with our preferred supplies marshmallows, chips, chocolate, gummy bears, and several cans of soda.

I lift the crinkled page of Be’s bucket list out of my pocket and laid it gently on my night stand. I pile my supplies into the backseat of my car then twist the key in the ignition. During the short drive to Be’s house I attempt to get all thoughts of cancer out of my system. I managed to shove them to the back of my mind but not completely out of my head.

Be’s house is a quaint two bedroom bungalow nestled in a picturesque neighborhood. The house was worn but beautiful in its own way. As soon as I shut off my car Be was bounding out the front door ready to help me move the blankets and food out of the car and into the tree house. Following right behind her was a girl with Be’s same wavy blonde hair, her six year old sister.

“Can I help?” Val skips towards my car in her baby doll pink dress.

“Of course you can,” I kneel down on her level. “I might even let you have a few gummy bears if you’re good.”

“You’re going to spoil her,” Be scolds. “Valerie go back inside with dad I need to talk to Eric alone.”

Val grinned and flew back inside the house. Be closed her eyes in a sleepy fashion, I waited a few minutes before making my way over to her.

“She doesn’t know does she?” I ask, stating the obvious.

“We just aren’t sure how to tell her yet. It might be too much for her but dad and I know that we have to tell her at some point. At the very least she deserves to know I won’t be there for her on her graduation day, her first date, her wedding, or when dad dies,” she finishes.

“Calm down, I won’t say anything. I do believe from this point on you said we couldn’t talk about stuff like this,” I remind her.

“Okay, let’s get our food to the tree house,” she smiled.

Half an hour later the floor of the tree house was covered in blankets from my house and one wall was lined with pillows from Be’s room. We had piled the food supply in the corners beside our heads and were snacking on a bag of potato chips together while watching The Big Bang Theory on Be’s laptop.

“You know last time we were up here I was about three feet shorter,” I say as I readjust my scrunched knees on the tree house floor. Be laughs at my discomfort.

“Just scooch your feet up, that way your knees aren’t against the floor, like this,” she kicks her feet under the top layer of blankets.

“Then I can’t see the laptop.”

“Stop complaining this is supposed to be fun,” she scolded.

“Alright, alright! No more complaints I’ll be quiet and we can watch the show,” I mumble.

“I don’t mean be quiet; I mean we should talk about our lives. I miss getting to talk to you like we used to,” she looked down at her fingers crossing and uncrossing in her lap.

“Ah ah ah, no cancer related talk,” I grinned.

“Fine,” she drug out the fi before sighing into the end of the word. “No more cancer talk, I promise. How have you been?”

“Things have been pretty quiet at home but I have been planning the classes I’ll be taking next year. What about you?”

“Valerie is starting first grade this year. She has been really upset about it ever since I told her it would be more difficult than kindergarten. Dad and I are still trying to explain to her that attendance isn’t optional,” we laughed at the thought of little Val not wanting to go to school. I can almost see her eyebrows scrunching trying to design her ‘Escape From Elementary School Plan.’

“Maybe I can convince her in the morning over breakfast.”

“She is way too stubborn it would take a miracle for her to willingly go to school.”

Val is just like her big sister, especially when you see how stubborn they both are. If either of them ever considered putting their minds to it I am sure they could take over the country of their choice. The sisters are way too nice for that, especially Be.

“I-” I started to say something about the genetic stubbornness until Be shushes me.

“This is one of my favorite episodes!” she shrieked, intently watching Sheldon and Amy’s Valentine’s Day kiss.

Twenty or so episodes later Be’s head was glued to my shoulder and her eyes were sealed shut. The sound of her soft snores soon lulled me into an uncomfortable sleep.