The Crumbling Tea Party #Wattys2016

The Crumbling Tea Party

"What did your hair look like when you were younger, Mommy?" Daisy stares up at me, her golden eyes reflecting my own blue ones. The teacup I placed before her sits untouched on its floral platter.

"It swayed behind me as I walked, people would stop to stare," I happily continue, telling her of my healthy years. Back when I was her age and felt capable of anything. That was before the cancer took so much from me. I've lost my hair, my friends, and been stripped of my spirit. "I don't miss my hair, of course. Losing it made me better. Now I can play and sing again."

My smile is strained, held in place by the small piece of me that continues to care about my life. I lie to spare Daisy the pain. I've always kept myself strong for her; I know she tries to do the same for me.

The doctors told me it would take a miracle for the cancer treatment to heal me. That it doesn't always work on the first try, and I should pray that it works at all. They were wrong. The recovery wasn't miraculous; nothing that amazing could make me feel this bad.

The only way I keep the cancer from coming back is by pretending it's gone forever. So I do. And so far, I guess it's been working.

Daisy finally lets out a long yawn. I gently pick her up and bring her away from the tea party. She obliges, lying her soft head down on my warm bed. While she sleeps, I pull my memory book out from under my bed to flip through the photos. In most of them, my head was as bald as my father's.

One particular picture has always stood out to me. It's in black and white, and was taken before the cancer, back when I still had my hair. I look confused, maybe a little worried, as my father leads me across an empty parking lot. I don't remember the picture being taken, but I remember the parking lot. I could never forget.

That was the day my parents told me I had cancer. They took me to a parking lot, just down the street from Murphy's Deli, and asked me to tell them what I saw. Looking around, I thought they were crazy. All I saw were buildings and trees. But when they told me to look harder, I saw what they saw. I saw a crumbling street in a crumbling town where nothing ever happens.

But something did happen. It happened to me. And so, we left. We went to this huge city with the huge hospital where everything is always happening at once. This was the place they took me to die.

That was three years ago, and I'm eleven now. I know better than to expect things to be easy. I miss being young, I hardly feel like a kid anymore.

Daisy keeps me young. I know she isn't real, of course. But pretending makes me feel like the girl I used to be, the free-spirited girl I will never be again. I might not have died, but that girl certainly did. And I miss her.