the beginning of the end

Part title

It's not like I had the best life, like I was really happy and nothing could have been better. No, a lot of things could have been better. My mom could have been in my life, for one. She could stop sending those freaking postcards from the next random place she's decided to move to. Not visit, move to. But she might as well have been visiting because the next postcard would come exactly 3 week and 3 days after the last, and no, she did not count the days, she was just very predictable and that was the exact amount of time it took her to get bored of something. She must have gotten bored of me when I was 3 weeks and 3 days old.

Patti could leave my life, for another. It's not that my dad's wife was an evil stepmother or something. It's just that she was always acting, and I was so damn tired of it. Acting like she cares, acting like she loves us (me and my two siblings) when we all know she only loves our dad (maybe) and her twin sons, and that's fine, so she should stop freaking pretending. It was easier for her to convince my little brother and sister that she loves them, but it was never going to work on me.

She was especially pissing me off right now. As we walked out of the doctor's office, she wouldn't stop crying. Snot was running down her nose (ew) and her usually pink face was tomato red. Looking at her, next to my blank face, you'd think she was sick and in pain.

But really, I was the one who was sick. And she didn't love me or care about me so I'm not sure why she thinks she's allowed to cry like that when I myself am not crying.

I should have been crying, given I was just told I would probably die soon. But I was too busy being annoyed at Patti's dramatics to cry.

She went for the drivers side but I got to door before she did.

"I don't think it's safe for you to drive."

She sniffed back a huge booger. "A-and it safe for you? What happens if you die w-while..." a sob stopped her from saying whatever idiotic argument she had. She gave in and went in the passenger side.

When I rolled my eyes and when she didn't immediately go into a rant of respecting your elders, I knew something had changed. I got this sort of rush of realization at what this really meant.

I was probably going to die. And the doctor said it would be soon. Why would she be mad at me when I was going to die? I could probably roll my eyes after everything she said for a whole day and she couldn't be mad. This sounded amazing, but I didn't like it. I didn't like it one bit. I wanted her to be mad, because this wasn't real. No way.

I didn't want to die. Even though my life wasn't perfect, it didn't mean I was ready to die. I've been living my whole life working towards the future. A future I probably didn't have now. I was only 17. Would I live to see my 18th birthday?

I wanted to live until I was happy. Until I loved my life. Until I went to Harvard and had my own house with a Pomeranian, a poodle, and a Chihuahua. And 2 British shorthair kitties. And a husband. Maybe some kids. That sounded nice.

—————————————————

Lacey, my 11 year old sister, was the only one home when we got there. Patti kept calling dad on her phone but he wouldn't answer, because he was in work. I didn't want her to tell him the news over the phone so it was for the better.

I locked myself in my room while Patty told Lacey. I put on my headphones and went under the covers. I waited. What are you supposed to do when you get back home from being told you're dying? Die? I closed my eyes and willed it on, but it didn't work that way so I settled on sleeping. Nowadays I could sleep anywhere anytime. It's what first made Dad decide to get me checked out, because I had always struggled with sleep before. It was a symptom. I liked this symptom.