12 a.m. short stories

The Beginning of the End | 25

* remember that this takes place right after Someone New, not Bright Lights. And, like I said before in the last chapter, I changed my mind. This is the true ending, because I think this is a better reality that's better for everyone. And if someone doesn't like it, oh well, it's a story after all. Right?

~*~ a month and a half later.

I had surgery about a month ago. My grandparents, the ones who gave up their involvement in my life after my "lifestyle" was revealed, decided that they did love me after all, and they pitched in enough money for me to have the surgery I needed. 

The surgery took out basically all of the mass, and luckily there hasn't been anything growing from the very tiny portions that the doctors couldn't reach. I'm still here, though, under the doctor's and nurses' care, so they can keep a steady eye on my physically corrupted brain.

I filed a divorce against Sam. 

Looking back, marrying him in what seemed like the final months of my life was a stupid fucking idea. We were in love, we were young, and I was dying. 

That seemed to be the main thing going on with me before the surgery: I was dying, I had cancer. 

Everything revolved around my potential death, and not me as a person. It wasn't "Oh, Caleb's going through a rough time and we're all going to help him until he comes out", but it was mainly "Oh, Caleb's dying of cancer so we're going to do all we can to make him comfortable for his definite death."

Everyone said I'd get through this, that it'll be okay, that I'll come out reigning no matter what happens. But I knew they were lying, and I knew they knew it, too. 

And I learned throughout all this, that even if I survived this, nothing would be the same. My family's and my friends' loyalties would be tested, and I'd see the true colors of everyone around me. 

But I was able to see - or discover, really - the love my parents' had for me. Despite any troubles we've had before, we came together and they helped me all they could medically and mentally. I remember nights where my mother came in and held me, something that I don't think I've ever experienced with her. My father, someone who's always been a huge part of my life, told me everything he was afraid of and all his fears. 

One of the things I'm most thankful for throughout all this, is their honesty. They didn't cry together outside my room and chant those three most annoying words "It'll be okay" every time they saw me. They told me everything they were scared of and all the regrets they had while I was growing before them. They told me they were sorry for all they'd done. And I was thankful.

My father wished he could've helped me more through high school and getting into college, he wished he could've gotten closer to me and bonded more (even if we already had an awesome relationship). 

My mother wishes she didn't give up so easily, she wishes she didn't throw some of the best things she had with me away so easily, she wishes she would've stuck by me instead of crawling back when she finally realized her mistakes. She wishes she would've support me when I first needed it, and she regrets never realizing just what not being there meant.

They didn't sugarcoat anything. They made it clear. We got through it together, and I told them my feelings toward everything, and they gave me their undying love. I've never felt closer to them. 

Sam. My lovely, loving, lovable Sam.

He broke and fell, and I had to watch. He took a tumble from grace. He loved me, I loved him, I don't know where we went wrong with that.