The Fault in My Stars (After Augustus)

Okay? It's been 1 year, 12 months, 52 weeks, 365 days since Augustus left me, his family, his friends. Even now ( and I feel that I will forever and always ), I find myself looking through the few pictures of us, reading his letter to Peter Van Houten through and through again, and remembering. Remembering everything. The Support Group in the Literal Heart of Jesus, the V for Vendetta, the Prince of Dawn, the orange picnic, the vaguely pedophilic swing set, the trip to Amsterdam, everything. I remember it all as easily as I remember my name, my age. And I want it all over again, to relive these moments now, Augustus with me.

My cancer is doing okay. I still have Phil, my oxygen tank. Phil seems like my only friend now a days. I still have Isaac of course, and he's getting better. He knows his way around pretty well now. Although, there are still a lot of things you can't do with a blind person. I go to the hospital every 3 months now to drain my lungs of their putrid brown-ish water that could kill me if not removed from my body. When I go to the hospital, laying in the stiff beds that smell like chemicals, I watch the crap drained from my lungs. Every single time, I think ' This stuff has the power to kill me. ' It immediately reminds me of Augustus, putting the killing thing right in between his teeth, and not giving it the power to kill him. It's like the killing thing is inside me, but I don't let it kill me by coming to the hospital and being treated.

I no longer attend Support Group, mostly because I can't take it. I can't go there every week and hear Patrick saying Augustus' name at the end of the prayer. I can't take sitting there without him looking at me with his goofy, too big for his face smile. Instead, I find other things to do, at my parents' request. If they didn't make me, I would lay in bed all day and cry, or stare at the wall. However, my parents tell me that I have to be social and do things, otherwise I'll become depressed again. So, I now take an art class at the local Rec Center. It helps a bit. I paint out my memories of me and Augustus. I recently finished a painting of our picnic at the park. All orange. Just like it was.

Today, I don't have art class, so I am sitting in the living room watching America's Next Top Model with Mom. She keeps looking over at me, I don't know why. Maybe she's just hoping I'm okay, which I'm not. As long as Augustus isn't here, I'm not okay.

A few minutes later, Dad walks in with a smile he's trying to hide. Mom glances over at him and nods her head Yes. I don't take my eyes off the television. Dad clears his throat: "Hazel? Can we talk for a minute?" I mute the TV and look up at him. "We've decided to do something fun because we think you could use a little cheering up." In my head I think 'Only Augustus can cheer me up, and he's not here.' But I don't say that. I let him continue. "We've decided to go for a vacation!" He says with a big smile, now. I sigh and I hear Mom say harshly, "Hazel Grace! We're doing this for you! Don't you want to?" I guess I want to, but I don't want them to think I do. "We were thinking," Dad says, "That we could go up to Maine and see the ocean again." That made me quite happy, actually. We hadn't been to Maine since I was 4. It was a long drive though, and I swear, if they were even considering taking an airplane, I would scream in their faces.

I can't take an airplane. Not at all. It will remind me of Augustus, him looking timidly out the window, us drinking champagne while Mom was sleeping, watching movies, flying to and from Amsterdam. His first and last time on a plane.

Mom looks over at me hopefully. "We thought it would help, hon. You don't have to." I think for a minute. Maybe the salty air, cool winds, and rocky beaches WILL help me. But then again, it was a trip I always wanted to take with Augustus. I wanted to show him the Maine life. But he'll never see it.