The Book I Can't Come Up With A Name For

Emily : The Beatles Greatest Hits

He pulls a Beatles album out of his pockets and sticks it in my car stereo. It isn't even one of the best albums, like The White Album or Revolver, it wasn't even Abbey Road. It was one of those Greatest Hits albums that you buy at Starbucks because you've been reading the back of it while the guy in front of you tries to make up his mind on what he wants and since you were bored you picked it up you have been holding it for ten minutes and now you feel guilty about not buying it so you have to buy it. It's one of those albums. The only reason he put the CD in the stereo was because he wanted to put in something I liked. He's still trying to make it up to me. The audacity of this boy is astonishing. What an asshole...

(For starters, I would like to say that this is a horrible book. If I'm being totally honest I have absolutely no idea how to write this. So I'm just gonna say that if you wanna quit I completely understand. I can't write for shit so I apologize in advance.)

Anyway, I guess I should tell you about this guy, but I don't really wanna tell you about this guy. So I'll just explain him to you later, but I will tell you this, his name is Daniel and he is the biggest douche I have ever met. It's like he never understands exactly what's happening or he just doesn't care. That's the worst thing about human beings, they don't care. For example, you could probably go up to a stranger and tell them everything you're going to, tell them a relative just died, tell them your friend is being a bitch, tell them really anything and they could care less. Because we are only focused on ourselves. The world revolves around you and there is absolutely no one else. But the less you think about it, the less you realize how screwed up it all is. And obviously, everyone's denying the truth that the world is fucked up and everyone is just avoiding each other until we all die. I mean I guess that's kinda a morbid way to look at it but I'm a pretty morbid person. But trust me, I have my reasons.

"Why are you mad at me?" he asks, I can tell he really cares, for once.

"Oh god, if you don't know I'm just sorry for you." I snap at him.

He shouts, "Just tell me what you want from me!"

I hear I Want to Hold Your Hand repeating over and over again on the stereo.

"I don't know what I want from you!" I honestly don't. I know I can't forgive him, I know I can't trust him. It's over. We're done.

"Listen, to me Em, I-"

I cut him off, "Do not call me Em! You lost that right when you slept with Abigail."

"You said you forgave me. What do you want me to do? Just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it. Okay? I'll do anything. I just don't want you mad..." His voice trails off. He finally realizes it, I don't know what says it, maybe its the look on my face, maybe it's only my eyes, but he sees it. He knows he's lost me. And then something passes over him, anger. He's completely radiating his pure hate.

"Don't do this. Please," I plead.

"Why! Why can't you let this go! You need to forgive me! You have to forgive me! There's nothing more I can say to have you forgive me! I'm sorry, you know that." But he doesn't mean it, you can hear it in his voice. He isn't sorry.

"You aren't," I say so softly I almost don't hear it.

"I don't know what you want me to do, goddammit, Em. I'm trying here. What—"

"Daniel," I'm still talking softly. "I can't see."

"—am I gonna have to do to fix this. Look I know I fucked up. I fucked up really badly and I am trying to fix this. This is it Em, this is the moment. And you—"

"I can't see," I'm talking louder now.

"seem to not care where this is going anymore so why should I? I guess I really shouldn't I mean—"

I can't take it anymore, I cut him off before he can speak anymore, "I can't see Daniel!"

"What are you even talking about?"

I look at him, dead in the eyes. And I break down. Letting someone in means abandoning the walls you've spent a lifetime building. And that's what I did. I let Daniel of all people in and now look where I am? I'm sitting in a car, listening to the Beatles singing Yesterday for probably the millionth time in my life. And I'm about to tell Daniel Martin the most important thing in my life. And to think this all started because of Abigail, that bitch. I guess I can't blame her for anything else but Daniel in my life. That stupid football game.

(At this point in my book you're probably really confused and I can't blame you because, honestly, I only know one thing about myself. That important detail I'm about to spill. Now if you didn't stop reading I would urge you to rethink that original decision because it only gets more confusing as you read on. So don't worry if this doesn't make any sense, cause it will, I hope.)

This isn't about the football game. This about what I'm gonna tell Daniel. And here I am, in tears, in front of Daniel fucking Martin. I always thought people looked ugliest when they cried. It's one of the most intimate moments, the most revealing moments. Your face is red and you can't stop yourself from making a frown. And then the tears mostly coming down your cheeks but some hitting your nose and lips along the way to the chin. Your nose is basically a fountain of water and you're trying to suck all the snot back into your nostrils. Your face has contorted into this scrunched up look, almost like you smelled a dead body and your so revolted your crying. It's really quite disgusting if you think of it. But, then there are those people that look really just the same as ever with water all over their face. I am not one of those people. I am someone who looks like she's smelling a 2-year-old corpse decomposing in a landfill. And that's the face I made when I cried in Daniel Martins car at nine p.m. and my parents have no idea where I am or what I'm doing. That's when I told Daniel the important thing that only my family knew.

"Em tell me what you are talking about." It wasn't a question.

"I mean I couldn't see. I mean, I could see but everything was distorted and wrong. And I got my period when I was 10 when I was 10 years old! But I always just thought I was quicker than other girls, or nothing was wrong with my sight or feeling a little dehydrated because it was hot outside. I never thought—" I stop myself choking on a tear.

"Em?"

"Em, when did you even start calling me Em? God, that felt like ages ago.'

"Em, please. Tell me."

"I'm sorry. They found a mass," I breathe in a shaky breath. "A tumor. And not in my liver or lungs. Not in the places you would expect. No. They found it... They found a tumor in my brain. And it wasn't benign. It was malignant. Cancerous. No one knew. And now were trying, chemo, radiation, but unless I have surgery, well..." I cut myself off, unable to finish the next sentence.

"What Em, come on Em, please, tell me."

I say it so slowly, like each syllable, each sound was a boulder in my way. So slowly like the next three words lost their time, each word stuck in my throat, begging to stay in. I can't say it. It hurts so much. Hey Jude softly plays in the background, unnoticeable for either of us. And my chest hurts because I'm still crying, as I managed to burst out the three words I've been dying to tell someone ever since I found them out.

"Daniel, I'm dying."