A Little Too Soon for Goodbye

21 -No

I look at the design I have in front of me, not sure how much I love it. It's of the dress. The one dress that I am going to wear to prom, and probably the last thing I will ever design.

I rip out the page, starting again. "Why was that one not perfect?" Adrien asks, glancing up from his homework. He's lounging on my chaise, ruffling his hair every few minutes out of frustration.

"It didn't feel like me," I respond, starting again. "You could just go in your underwear and I'd be happy," he says, and my face instantly heats up. He lets out a chuckle, and I lower my head as I focus.

"How are things at school?" I ask, wondering how my old classmates are doing. "Same as ever. Drama filled, too much school work, long days. Do you ever miss it?"

"I miss the people. Not the classes. I can get an entire day's work done in two hours instead of seven."

"Lucky." He mutters, focusing again.

"You hated home school!" I laugh. We sit in a comfortable silence, and soon my trash can is filled with crumbled up papers.

As I tear out another page, a knock sounds on my trap door. "Come in!" I call, and my parents open it.

"We brought you two a treat." My maman says, and I smile at her. They both walk up and into my room, setting the plate of croissants down on the edge of my desk.

"Is there something else?" I ask, grabbing one of the flaky, delicious treats.

"We just got a call from Tikki. They want you to come in asap."

"Oh," I say, taking a bite of the treat. I glance over at Adrien, and he's already packing up his stuff. "Okay." I grab my hospital bag out of my closet, and slip on my shoes. I follow my parents, and apologize when I have to stop halfway down the stairs to the bakery.

When we get there, we go through the doors to the cancer wing of the hospital, and I hold on tightly to Adrien's hand. It doesn't matter how many times I come here, I'll always be nervous.

Eventually, I'm called back and go to my usual room. I sit down on the bed, and Adrien sits next to me. Plagg comes in, and glances at the four of us. Eventually his eyes land on me.

"Hey Mari, thanks for coming in a day early. We want to do a few scans so if you could change, that would be great." He hands me a gown, and I go into the bathroom to change.

When I come back out, he's leaning against the wall, talking to the three other people in the room. I go up to the bed, and pull off my wig. "Why do you always dress up when you're around me?" Adrien asks.

"Cause I like to feel prettier than my boyfriend." He laughs, and kisses my head. There's a little bit of peach fuzz on it, but visually it looks bald.

"You always are, no matter what." I blush, and I turn towards Plagg.

"Let's go." He nods, bringing a wheelchair into the room. I roll my eyes, but don't fight him as I sit down in it.

He rolls me down hallway after hallway, and I pass several other people. Patients, families, doctors, nurses, janitors. All of them with their own lives. All of them just as wonderful as the last.

"I can walk, y'know." I say to Plagg, and he continues to push me towards the scan rooms.

"You're slowing down, Marinette. I can tell just from the way you walk that you're tired. Maybe not your mind, but your body. You look like you're in pain."

"I'm not. At least not in super bad pain. I'm going to stay healthy no matter what until the day I drop dead."

"Slow down. If you push yourself too hard, then it could literally cost you your life."

I huff, but stay quiet as we get to the first scan room.

—————

Eventually, I get back to my room and change again, and put my wig back on. I lay down on the bed, wanting to sleep. Spending an hour in different machines, each of them scanning a different thing, always makes me tired.

Tikki comes in eventually, and I sit up, giving her a hug. "How are you sweetheart?" She asks.

"Tired." I say, smiling at her. We talk for a minute, Adrien by my side and my hand in his. My parents are sitting on the cheap plastic chairs in the corner, occasionally joining in on the conversation.

Ten minutes later, Plagg comes in. He has a fake smile on his face, and my heart plummets. Tears slowly fill my eyes, and I ask, "how much worse am I?"

He sighs, and says, "A lot. But I have good and bad news. The bad news is that there are a lot more mets in your digestive system, and so we're going to have to put a feeding tube in tomorrow. Actual food will be too hard on you and your stomach, so the stuff that we'll pump into you will just be the essentials. Your body will be able to process it easier, and it might make you feel a little better. We'll put that in tomorrow.

"You'll still be able to drink water, but that's it. No popsicles, no drink flavorings, just plain water. You can chew on ice if you want to. Your lungs also have a small mass on them. Only surgery can tell if it's benign or cancerous. However, it probably is more cancer because of your condition. It's small, but it's pressing against your lungs so they are only at 75% capacity. I recommend starting you on oxygen as soon as possible. You'll be given five tanks that you can take with you everywhere you go, and when they're almost empty you can bring them here and refill them. Wear the tubes during the night and for at least six hours a day to help your lungs.

"Now, for the good news. With your worsening condition, you are eligible for a stomach transplant, where the majority of your mets in your digestive system are. We can also operate on the mass on your lungs as soon as next week so you wouldn't have to be on oxygen for very long. What do you think?"

Tears fill my eyes, but not for the reason that everyone might expect. Plagg's smile is genuine now, and I can tell that everyone is excited for me.

But I'm not.

"If I do this, will I live longer?" I ask, my voice shaking. Plagg nods. "Only by a couple months, but longer." I sigh, and look down. What quality of life will I have if I choose to do this? What will those few months be like?

I think it over in my head, and eventually shake it. "What is it, Marinette?" Plagg asks, seeing me. "No." I say. "I'm not doing it."

The room goes silent. "Why?" He immediately asks. "I'm tired. I'm sick. Those few months probably won't improve my quality of life very much. I'll just be sicker for longer. The idea of getting a transplant... that makes me sick. Hoping someone will die just so then I can spread my disease to a new organ that I could possibly reject? Then die a few months later? I'm not going to do that. Besides, that doesn't get rid of the mets in the other parts of my body.

"I'm done. I'm done with scans and appointments and surgery and everything. Just let me enjoy life for as long as I can outside of this damn building. When I get really bad, I'll be here. Until then, let me live my life. I'll be back tomorrow for you to put in the feeding tube and give me some oxygen tanks. But I'm done with you giving me false hope."

Everyone is quiet as I finish my little rant, and my dad says, "no. You are getting on that list." "No I'm not." "It's a chance for you to live. You are." "No. It's my choice. I don't think any of you realize how tired I am. I want to live. I do. But I can't handle this anymore. I'm sick. I've accepted it. I've realized that I'm not going to get better. I'm going to die. Nothing can prevent that. And even if I do decide to get on the list, it's not a guarantee that I'll get the organ. I have a few months left. Please, let me live them."

I look down at mine and Adrien's hands, and he slowly slips his out of mine. "I'm sorry, but I can't sit here and watch you kill yourself."

He walks out of the room, and the door slams shut.