terminal

Eye Contact

Aviana did not know about all the ways thing would change,

how her doctors look at her like a movie star, and her parents

acting like she is a fragile doll, even her teachers are frowning

when they think she can't see; the only people that treat her

like a person are her friends and the counselor at school; they

aren't afraid to look her in the eyes when she speaks, no matter

if what she says is related to cancer or not - like when she was

mad about the lunch lady giving her an extra helping of food

after she shaved her head before her chemotherapy started;

"They called me brave and said I needed the extra food to stay -

strong? I don't even like the tacos that they make. They taste like

if I licked the powder of mom's taco seasoning packet!" Huff - huff -

Aviana, the little bird, didn't mind being called brave when she

was poked with needles, taking lots of medicine, and getting scans;

She did not liked being called Brave Aviana when she was just

getting her lunch just like everyone else in school; her counselor

looked at the little girl in the eyes and told her that she was so wise;

Since Aviana didn't know what it meant, she searched the counselor's

eyes the way she'd come to do with everyone after her diagnosis -

the eyes never lied to her the way their mouths did; she looked for

what the worse 'wise' must mean - but no answers came, only her deep

brown eyes looking into Aviana, seeing her young soul bare in a

small chair at a kidney bean table, so she asked her counselor,

"What does that mean?" and she didn't explain it in the way a

teacher or a principal would, she simply listed other similar words:

Smart, clever, thoughtful, knowledgeable, bright, quick-witted;

It made Aviana feel seen, and she agreed, "I think it's the cancer,"

and she explained how she spends so much time with adults

who forget that she has eyes and ears, and so she sees how

everyone acts when they think she's not paying attention, or worse -

"They think I don't understand what they're saying, but I kind of do,"

It is in this moment that she looks at her counselor, direct eye contact,

yearning for Brave Aviana to be sad just this once without someone

who might panic and fawn over her like a newborn baby; and she says:

"They talk about how everything is going slow, and I don't know what it means,

but they get lines on their faces, and their eyes look like wet napkins, so,

I think that it is a bad thing, but I know that nobody will tell me the truth if I ask,"

Saying these things out loud felt brave, and she wanted to be called it;

Her counselor doesn't tell her that she's brave, no, instead she offers

both hands to Aviana to hold, and she squeezes her tiny fingers with

that sideways smile that is both sad and happy, she she tells Aviana:

"You should know what is going on if you want to know. Can I talk to

Mom and Dad about this? I won't unless you tell me that it is okay,"

Aviana trusts her counselor, but she doesn't trust her parents yet,

they do not look ready in their eyes to tell her the truth, so she declines;

"Not yet," she declares, "But I will say when I'm ready," then it is over;

Before Aviana goes back to her class, her counselor offers her a hug,

it is warm and comforting, like the blanket she bought for chemotherapy -

like the pillow she uses in the car for their long drives; like the cotton candy

she eats as a treat after her appointments; and little Aviana feels so

very much at peace as she skips down the hall with her return pass;

It is one of the only times that she gets to feel like everyone else now.