Spells and Cinders

Chapter 8

Side Note: I did the best research I could in regards to younger children with leukemia, but if I missed anything or if anything seems inaccurate, please let me know in the comments. Thank you.

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Graham:

How could I have been such a dipshit to her? God, you're so stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Excuse me?" The sound of a nose being blown and a throat being cleared pulled me from my thoughts. "Where in the hell do you think you're goin', young man? You need to sign in!" A pudgy woman with apple-red locks and crooked bangs exclaimed at the reception desk before I pressed the up arrow button next to the elevator.

Shit, I cannot catch a break today. One fuck up after the next.

"Who are you here to see?" She tore her attention from the computer screen in front of her. The name laminated on her tag read, Serrena Martin.

"Tara. Tara Shaw." My eyes landed on a plastic vase full of fake rainbow flowers on her desk. "My younger sister."

"Sign your name down below." Serrena set a clipboard with a pen attached to a string on the counter in front of me.

Before the pen could starch the surface of the milky-white paper, Serrena called out, "Ma'am? Hello, excuse me, can I help you?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but suddenly some female voice shouted, "Graham!" Turning around, I saw my mother walking towards the front desk holding two sandwiches in hand.

"So, he's with you?" Sierra asked, pointing to my mother with the tip of her ballpoint pen.

"Yes, and I have my visitors pass," my mother told Sierra, holding the laminated card up so she could see. "I was on my way back to my daughter's room with sandwiches when I saw the two of you talking."

Sierra shifted her weight in the black swivel chair she was sitting in and glanced at my mother and I from behind her black wire-rimmed glasses. "Well, since he's with you." she motioned towards my mother. "I guess he doesn't need to check-in also; it'll be our little secret."

I mouthed the words, thank you, and headed for the elevator with my mother close behind. "So, what sandwiches did you get from the hospital cafeteria?"

"There was only tuna and roasted turkey with cheddar left, and there weren't any mayonnaise packets—just yellow mustard," she replied, handing me one of the sandwiches. God, I was starving. I had forgotten to eat lunch today.

"How's Tara doing?" I asked and pressed the fourth floor button as the elevator doors closed. I leaned against the cool metal wall inside.

"I guess your father's not coming?" My mother inquired, avoiding the question I asked about Tara. "Not surprised. The minute he split, it became clear he wanted nothing to do with your sister's cancer."

"How's Tara doing, Mom?" I repeated my question.

Sighing, she finally looked at me, meeting my eyes. "Doctor Crawford has informed me that her leukemia is becoming more aggressive, it's best to undergo chemotherapy and also consider the possibility of a stem cell transplant if need be, but if Tara chooses to stop undergoing these treatments—"

"–she will die," I interrupted my mother, my voice cracking.

"Or she could live another five years, with the help of modern discoveries and advanced treatment plans," she explained, trying hard to keep optimistic. "Doctor Crawford is fantastic. She got her medical degree at Columbia University in New York–"