the bucket list // ashton irwin

one

✧

The whole damn place smelled like cleaning supplies. Most days, I swore that I wouldn't be as sick if they didn't drench the whole place in the stuff.

My least favorite part about the hospital was probably the cleaner, though the nasty food was a close second. Today I sat crossed legged in my messy bed, with a salad container on my lap.

I chewed angrily on the salad. It was tasteless and bland. My fork was shoved into a tomato, standing straight up. My old roommate, Natalie, left last week, because her cancer left. Great, I thought to myself, shoving the tomato into my mouth.

Being alone in my room eating a salad was okay. I liked to draw, so a lot of my art was hung up around my space in the room. Pastels were on top of a Vincent van Gogh inspired drawing, which was on top of the nightstand.

I had chemo yesterday. A couple years back, they formulated this new chemo that doesn't make you lose hair. Cool, right? No. It hurt way worse than regular chemo, and was way more complicated. I guess I should feel somewhat honored, but most days I feel like a guniea pig in a middle school science class.

Brenda walked in, tapping her nails on her clipboard. She was practically my mom. "Hey!" I brightened at her appearance.

"Hi, Bianca." The doctor followed in after her. I furrowed my brows together. "Hi, Dr. McCloskey."

I shoved some lettuce into my mouth. "What's up?" I shifted, so I was on my knees. My white sheets were already wrinkled, though, so it didn't matter much to me.

"What's up is some news." Dr. McCloskey lifted up a sheet on his paper, then set it back down. "Good and bad."

I chewed on the last bit of lettuce. "Hit me with it. But bad first."

He hestitated for a moment. "I'm so sorry, but your cancer is terminal, Bianca."

The world stopped for a moment. A scream froze in my throat. I could hear the blood pumping through my veins. "You.. You must have made a mistake. This chemo was supposed to make it better."

"It was." He looked at me pitifully. "I'm so sorry, Bianca."

My hands were shaking. It's not like I have anything to live for, though. I'm about to turn eighteen, and I've been locked away in this hellhole since age two. My dad couldn't afford the bills, so he got drunk and drove into the side of a building. I made a few friends in the hopsital, but they either passed or left and never called me.

"What caused it?" I said it it slowly, racking through the possible causes. Was it my extremely unhealthy diet? No, I usually ended up puking up what I ate because of chemo, anyways.

"The chemo."

I got up out of the bed, and walked toward McCloskey. "So, you're saying you put me on this whack new chemo, and it fucked me up? If you put me on new chemo, would this have happened?" Disgust oozed out of my voice. I pointed at him, my finger almost making contact with his face.

"I can't confirm that, Bianca." I whimpered slightly. A headache formed. I wanted to live. Over the past years, I made myself believe I was done. But a little part of me always wanted to live. I've never been to school. I've never kissed anyone. I'm a virgin. I'm a clean slate.

"I.. What good news could there possibly be?" I asked it slowly, letting the words fall out of my mouth. I stared at the wall inbetween Brenda and Dr. McCloskey's heads.

"You'll be free."

✧

My drawings were stacked on top of each other, while the supplies lie next to them. I sat cross-legged on the bench by the desk. I didn't have anyone to take me, so I didn't really have anywhere to go.

A sandy brown haired boy emerged from one of the rooms, pulling his coat cuffs further down his arms. He had on glasses, showing off his brown eyes. Please don't come over here, I thought bitterly.

He walked over, and sat down on the spot next to be. "I like your drawings." I bit my lip as I smiled. "Thanks. I like your accent. Where are you from?"

"Australia. I'm in America because of summer vacations." I nodded, wondering why anyone would leave Australia for America. America was simply religious people and loud people. "I'm Ashton, by the way."

Ashton. "Bianca. Why are you in the hopsital?"

Ashton hesitated for a moment, but told his story. "I was in a dangerous prank. The victim of the prank. And, er, I got some burns." I winced at the sight of his burns, trailing up his arms. That's why he was pulling down his coat cuffs, to protect them. "Why are you here, Bianca?"

"Cancer." Cancer, simply cancer. I decided to leave out the fact that it was terminal.

"So, you're better now?" Ashton made full-on eye contact, something that made me uncomfortable.

I shifted, and pushed a lock of short brown hair behind my ear. "No. It's, uh, terminal. I just found out today."

Ashton's mouth opened a little bit. His brown eyes scanned me, finally reached my own eyes. "I'm.. Oh my god."

"It was the chemo. The doctor denied it, but it was the whack new chemo they put me on. I felt like a science experiment," I gushed.

He furrowed his eyebrows. "Do you have anywhere to go?" I laughed slightly, then ran my finger over the seam of my jeans. They gave me clothing from the lost and found to wear.

"No, I've been sitting here for the past, uh, hour or so figuring out where to go, though I don't know where anything is."

"You could come with me," Ashton said sheepishly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I gave him a questioning look. "You've known me for, like, six minutes and you're telling me to follow you home. How do I know you aren't some sort of criminal on the run?" I teasingly poked his stomach.

"Do you think a mastermind criminal would nearly burn his arms off?" Ashton stood up, and looked at me like he wanted me to do the same.

For some reason, I stood up. Usually, I would have told him to get bent, but no one had acknowledged me as a person for so long- just a hopeless patient.

The jeans were tight. There was almost no space around my ankles, but the assistant told me it was 'in style'.

Ashton lead me down the corridor. I wondered why he waited to leave until I talked to him. The bright lights were white, and again with the damn cleaner.

The lobby was bustling. People had cellphones pressed against their ears, talking loudly. Sunlight spilled through two double doors. Before we walked through them, Ashton stopped. "How long has it been since you've been outside?"

"Three years," I said quietly. It was two months before I got the new chemo. The first period I had to stay inside the whole time, but then I just got used to it and preferred being inside.

Ashton grinned at me. He held the door open, and I walked out, in a daze. The sunlight burned at my skin, something I have never truly appreciated. Birds fluttered from tree to tree. Pink dogwood trees lined the road to the hospital.

"It's beautiful," I breathed. Ashton watched the world take my breath away.

"It really is, isn't it?"