Coffee & Blood

Chapter Six: A Change of Plans

"There's no easy way to say this," Dr. Lenneth takes off his glasses and rubs a hand down his face. His voice is soft, the determination that oozed from it during our last conversation replaced with a deep sympathy. The look in his eye tells me everything I need to know. I squeeze my hands together in my lap so tightly my nails dig into my skin. I look straight ahead as he looks over my results. "You're, not, getting better Ms. Grant."

"Okay," I chuckle dryly, "I mean I knew I wasn't gonna get any better."

"I'm afraid you don't understand me-"

Shut up.

"Dr. Lenneth you know the first friend I made when I came here asked me to catch her bouquet at her wedding. I never thought anyone would have asked me to catch their bouquet." My words come out in a rush. My leg taps uncontrollably under the table and my throat begins to burn as a lump settles in it. I want to talk about anything but this.

"Listen to me," he pleads. He leans forward and takes my hand in his own, squeezing them as if he knows that I'm about to bolt out the door. "you should go home and be with your family Aniyah. You shouldn't be alone."

Stop talking.

"I mean I will be going home to visit soon, my sister-in-law is giving birth in a few months and I can't miss that." My voice cracks painfully making me trip over my words. I look away from his desperate eyes and focus on the pictures hanging on his walls. His wedding day, the birth of his daughter, birthdays, celebrations...Pictures of moments I won't get to experience myself. "I-Im gonna be an aunt soon."

"Aniyah-"

"You never told me how the talent show went either. Don't think I would just forget-"

"Aniyah!" He shakes my arms cutting me off. My breath catches as I meet his teary eyes. A tear escapes his lashes and rolls down his cheek and hits his desk. He's crying, if a doctor is crying for me, it must be bad. I feel my body slump and my leg comes to a halt. The room is quiet, so quiet I wonder if either of us are breathing.

"How long?" I whisper staring at the single tear drop that escaped his eyes.

"You're declining at a much faster rate than I anticipated-"

"How. Long." I force out.

"Without your medication," he begins slowly, cautiously, "6 to 9 months."

"And with it?"

"Possibly 9 to 12."

I laugh. Possibly. I laugh so hard that my ribs rattle. I laugh so hard that my lungs beg for air and my stomach clenches in pain. I laugh so hard that tears spill out from my eyes. Tears that I know aren't from amusement or joy. They pour so heavily I think they might fill the room and drown us both. They soak my shirt and leave a salty taste on my lips. 6 to 9 months...how did I go from years to 6 to 9 months? Was it because I didn't take my medication faithfully like I was supposed to? Should I have prayed harder? Been nicer? Why me? Why?

"I'm 24," my voice is raw and strained, "that's not fair I'm just 24!"

"Aniyah, please-"

"Why are you pleading?" I yell and stand up from my chair so fast it falls back with a crash. "I'm the one dying! I'm dying! At twenty fucking four."

"You need a support system, someone to help you-"

"I don't need help dying, Mr. Lenneth." I laugh as tears fall. "I've been doing a damn good job at it on my own haven't I. How's it gonna happen, huh? Is it gonna be merciful and just take me randomly in my sleep or will everyone see it on my face?"