F i r e f l i e s

Prologue

Prologue

“I love him because he is more myself than I. His and my souls are the same. Linton’s and mine are as different as frost from fire.”

                                    - Wuthering Heights

            I hated hospitals. I always had, always would. Some people saw them as great; they thought that they were the place where people were miraculously healed, where God reached down and gave people in the worst condition the Touch of Life.

            To me, hospitals were like a funeral home. They were filled with death and pain and sickness, of cold, hard tables and awkward, flimsy gowns. They even smelled like death. Hospitals were the worst place in the world, where people lost hundreds of dollars, where people were told the news that they had a year to live, where people sat and rotted away.

            I was six years old, the first time I ever had to visit the hospital. We’d been sent there from the local doctor’s office in my town, and I was confused, nobody would tell me what was going on. Even my mother seemed to be in a clueless frenzy.

            We sat in the waiting room, in those uncomfortable, puke-colored chairs. My mother was holding my hand in a death-grip, and tapping her foot impatiently.  In the time it had taken for us to get here, she had seemed to age another ten years. Her normally smooth, soft, kind face was drawn down in a worried grimace. Her bright blue eyes had shifted to a dull gray, and her normal fluid, graceful composure had subsided to a twitchy, concerned panic. I was sure she knew more than I, but I knew she was still waiting and anticipating my test results just as much as I was.

            On my other side was Jacob. He held my other hand tightly, rubbing it with his thumb absently, and had a distant expression on his face, seemingly lost in thought. Normally, he was smiling and laughing and cracking jokes and being Jacob.

            Not today. Today, everything was different.

            My mother was out of her seat the very millisecond that the doctor stepped out of the door that lead to the patient rooms’ hallway. “Mrs. Barnette,” he said quietly, “I’d like to talk to you alone, before we talk to Lacey.”

            She frowned, slowly accepting this, and she gave me a parting glance before releasing my hand and crossing the waiting room. The doctor held another door open, allowing my mother to step in, before he followed her inside, shutting the door behind him.

            I looked at Jacob. His normally well-kept black curls were in a scruffy mess about his head, short stubble risen on his usually shaven face. His eyes were the same color as my mother’s now. He noticed me looking, and tore himself from whatever he was thinking about. He looked at me, and the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly, in a weak attempt to be a reassuring smile.

            It looked so forced. My brows pulled together. “Are you okay?” I asked him.

            He laughed a bit, without humor. Swallowing, he said, “I’m just so worried about you, Lacey.”

            I smiled sadly. “I’ll be fine, Jacob. You’re with me. Nothing bad can happen to me when you’re here. You said you’ll protect me from everything, remember?”

            I saw his eyes starting to get wet. “There’s some things I can’t protect you from,” he said.

            This confused me. He was Jacob. He was a super hero, a guardian angel. Nothing could ever defeat him! My whole life, he’d protected me from everything, pointed me in the right direction, and kept me out of harm’s way. Why was this so suddenly changing?

            “Lacey,” I heard, and turned to see the doctor holding the door open. “Can you come and talk with your mom and me, sweetie?”

            Jacob and I stood, and walked into the room, and the doctor shut the door behind us. The first thing I noticed was that Mommy was acting very strange. She was looking toward the doctor’s desk, but she didn’t seem to be seeing it. She was looking past it, not focusing on anything in particular. Her chest rose and fell very slowly, and her face was red. Her hands shook.

            I glared at the doctor. Whatever he had told my mother, it had affected her very negatively. “What’s wrong with my mommy?” I demanded.

            “Lacey, if you could please sit down, I’ll explain it to you.”

            I obeyed, taking the only available seat, which was next to my mother’s. She grabbed my hand, holding it even tighter than before, and still didn’t look at me. Jacob stood on my other side, pacing between the door and the wall.

            “You see, Lacey, in your blood, there are two types of cells: red and white.  Your red blood cells carry oxygen around your body, while the white ones help fight against diseases. Now, in your case, your white blood cells are entering your blood stream before they’re supposed to, and they’re multiplying constantly, to the point where they’re crowding your bone marrow. This is called Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, which is a form of cancer.”

            My mother was crying now, and Jacob had stopped pacing. He was now standing with his back against the wall, looking down at the floor and taking deep breaths, running his fingers through his hair.

            The doctor continued. “Normally, we would be able to treat this now and you’d be fine from now on… However, it appears that you’ve had this for quite a long time, and we are just now seeing it.”

            I was silent, trying to make my six-year-old mind grasp what the doctor was saying. “So… am I…” I couldn’t say bring myself to say it.

            The doctor sighed, tapping his fingers on the desk. “The best thing we can try is to treat the cancer, and see what happens.”

            My mother emitted a sob, releasing my hand to cover her face in her hands, breaking down into tears. “Oh, God,” she cried. She reached over and pulled my into her arms, on her lap, and she hugged me as tightly as she could. Seeing her cry was unbearable, and I began to cry too. I hugged her, and we wept without hesitation. The doctor looked down at his desk patiently, his expression solemn. Jacob had that distant look again, like he wasn’t even in the room. He kept his distance.

            By the time my mother and I had regained our composure, the doctor had stood and written something on his clipboard. “I’d like to ask you, Mrs. Barnette, to allow Lacey to stay the night here so we can get her into treatment as quickly as possible. And I’ll need you to fill out these forms.”

            My mother nodded, wiping her tears away, and accepted the pen and clipboard. The doctor handed me a hospital gown. “You can go change in the bathroom across the hall,” he said. “Then we’ll get you to your room, and we’ll get started.

            I accepted the gown, wiping my face with the back of my hand and walking out the door of his office. Jacob followed me out.

            When I stepped into the bathroom, before I could walk into a stall, Jacob hugged me tightly, exhaling steadily. “Don’t worry, Lacey,” he said, “We’ll get through this. You’re a strong girl, you’re gonna beat this with no problem.”

            I sniffled a bit, not responding to his statements. Tugging on his hand, I mentioned for him to bend down to my height. He obeyed, getting on his knees.

            “Promise me you won’t leave,” I said to him, looking him straight in the eye. “Promise that you won’t leave, ever, not once.”

            His eyebrows drew up in concern, but he nodded, hugging me again. “I promise, Lacey. I promise.”