Nora

Chapter 3: First Impressions

I’ve never been the kind of person to take chances or great leaps of faith or follow gut instincts. It just isn’t a practical survival technique. Everybody knows that. But here I am running after a girl at six O’clock in the morning. Surely this cancer is making me lose my mind. I would normally never do this. Never even contemplate doing this.

After about two minutes of trying to discretely chase after mystery girl I’m out of breath. Either she’s an extremely fast runner or I’m seriously out of shape. I’d decide to protect my ego and go with the former. She’s at least three hundred metres in front of me and soon she’s going to be off the beach and I might lose sight of her. I could yell out for her to stop but for what reason? ‘Oh excuse me miss but could you stop for a minute? I just want to have a little chat with you as I have this insane feeling of being pulled to you.’ Yeah that’s not creepy at all.

“Just slow down for heaven’s sake. It isn’t a race.” I mutter.

My fears become reality and mystery girl takes a sharp left right and is running up a path that leads off the beach and into the city part of the beach. I pick up my pace but my legs are burning and I have an awful pain in my side. I take the same path that she did but she’s disappeared. I run for a little longer trying to find her but she’s gone. I swear under my breath and wipe the sweat that’s collected on my face off.

I’ve been so lucky lately why it couldn’t have stuck around this morning I don’t know. I just wanted to follow the damn girl to wherever she was going. Hmm okay so maybe that’s a bit stalkerish but hell I’m dying I can do what I like.

I make my way back to the house feeling deflated. For a second there I felt alive again. It was just a moment but it felt good. And I have a feeling that  if I’d found that girl I would finally have a purpose again.

God that sounds stupid. What the hell is wrong with me? Why can’t I be a normal teenage boy that likes eating too much and reading car magazines?

Mom and Dad aren’t up yet when I get back so I have a shower and dress in clean clothes. I decide to screw waiting for Mom and Dad to wake up to have breakfast and make myself some toast and coffee.

“Is that coffee?” Dad asks yawning.

I jump as I didn’t hear him get up. “Yeah, you want some?”

“Thanks bud,” Dad says sitting down at one of the kitchen chairs and running a hand through his full head of hair. I really hope I’m 43 I still have a good head of hair.

I feel like hitting myself. I’m not going to make it to 43. I’ll be lucky to make it to eighteen in March.

“You alright Riley?” Dad asks concerned.

I must have a weird look on my face or something. “Yeah fine, I’ll get that coffee.”

I get up and go over to the coffee machine to pour Dad a cup and Mom comes out in a big fluffy dressing gown. The one I got her for Christmas two years ago. She barely ever wears it. But since the diagnosis it’s become a staple in her wardrobe. I should be touched but it’s just another reminder this morning that death is upon me.

“Morning baby,” she says ruffling my hair and taking the cup of coffee I made Dad for herself.

I sigh and pour another one for Dad, “Morning Mom.”

“Sleep well?” Mom asks.

“Yeah really well actually.” I say.

“Have any plans for today?” Dad asks sipping the coffee I gave him.

“I’m just gonna take a look around, try and find a decent book store.” I say sitting down.

“Your Dad and I were going to go to the big shopping centre we can give you a lift if you want.”