Unrealistic

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Eric

I feel like my chest has collapsed and I can’t intake oxygen anymore. I wonder if that is how Be feels right now back in that sterile white room. She might not even be awake yet; still in her near lifeless state.

The frozen metal door snapped shut behind a man in a long white coat. His heartless figure glazed by Mr. Lynn and me to a young couple crying in the far corner. I let out a distressed huff of air and turn to Mr. Lynn.

“When do you think she’ll wake up?” I ask the floor.

“I- I don’t know,” his voice shook. “My baby girl is in that room, on what could be her death bed, and there is nothing I can do about it.”

“Mr. Lynn I’m sure she will be just fine,” I pat his shoulder.

“Is daddy okay?” Val came around the corner from the girl’s room.

“We are just fine,” I reassure her.

She pulls herself up into my chair and squeezes in beside me. Her knees tuck themselves underneath her and her fingers worry the hem of her pink pajama shirt.

“What about sissy, is she going to be okay, too?” she looks up at me with tear filled eyes.

“Of course she is going to be alright,” I hold her tiny hand with mine in hoping to comfort her.

Be’s dad stood suddenly wiping a hand across his face and heads off in the direction of the main hallway. Val scrunches her forehead up in confusion and looks at her father’s retreating figure. I know this is a hard time for Mr. Lynn since this is Be’s first rough patch since her diagnosis.

Perhaps this is the worst and soon the chemo therapy will expel all signs of cancer from her body.  Deep in the recesses of my mind I know this is practically impossible for this to be the worst of ALL. Still I must hope for both myself and Be.

Beside me Val’s head droops to the arm rest next to her and she falls in to a distressed sleep. Soon after I find myself wandering into a similar state of restless sleep.

~~~

Be is laughing, her blonde hair is pooling around her head like a halo. Her puffy, coat covered, arms are spread out like wings in the snow. Flurries surround us, like we are in a life sized snow globe.

I hastily pack together a rough ball of snow and hurl it through the air. Across the park field I see a bright white explosion cover my angel in snow. She sits up and sputters for a second, the shock on her face makes me erupt in laughter.

“I cannot believe you! That snow angel was almost perfect, Eric!” she shouts at me.

“I’ll help you make a new one lets head down the hill where the fresh snow is,” I suggest, waving her towards our two person sled.

“Fine but it better be perfect down there,” she agrees.

Once we are packed together on the narrow black sled, me in the back, I push us off down the slope. Together we raise our mitten covered hands in the air and smile at the sun that lacked its usual warmth.

All too soon the trees at the end of the hill are coming up beside us. I reach back and dig my elbows into the snow in an attempt to stop the sled. I succeeded in pitching us forward into the white mess beyond the sled. I pull my head out of the foot deep pile of snow and search for Be. I find her a few yards away sprawled out at the base of a thick oak tree.

“Be?” I ask quietly, “Be are you okay?”

I kneel beside her and shake her shoulders. She remains still in the bed of snow. Her hair is just as it was when she was making her snow angel but it is far less beautiful now.

I hang my head in despair, there is nothing I can do to save her.

~~~

I am startled awake by the man in the long white coat. His eyebrows are creased and he seems to be waiting to deliver bad news. I gulp.

I feel Val hugging my right arm. She looks up at me with fearful, pleading eyes.

“Why don’t you go look for your dad Val I’m sure the doctor would like to speak to him, too,” I gently push her to her feet.

“I assume you’re here for,” he checks his clipboard. “Miss Phoebe Lynn?”

“Yes sir-”

“I’m here! I’m here!” Be’s dad rushes in through the double glass doors. “What about my daughter? Is she alright?”

“I am sorry to say that Phoebe’s condition has considerably worsened. These symptoms should not have appeared so soon, it says her she had an estimated three to four months left,” the doctor recounts.

“That hasn’t changed has it?” I cross my fingers.

“Taking into account the fact that these symptoms should not have shown for another month, I’d say she only has a matter of weeks left,” he continued to offer his meaningless condolences before exiting back into the exam hall.

“Maybe you should go home, Eric,” Mr. Lynn suggested. “I think what Be needs right now is her family.”