Bucket List

Chapter 1

"I have a brain tumor."

I looked down at my hands. The skin around my nails was dry and cracked from the recent change from the autumn to winter. Crimson blood seeped out of the larger cuts, but I smeared it away, making blend into my white, pale skin. It made me look sick, which was pretty ironic.

I wasn't, but she was.

She sat there in her bed, with a mountain of blankets on top of her. An IV pump sat next to her bed, slowly dripping medicine into her body. Her head was propped up on a pillow and her wispy hair was mangled into a braid, one most likely designed by her mother, the primary care taker.

"I have three months." She explains blantingly. Her eyes were not the usual sparkle blue, as I looked into them. They were gray and cold, and the usual whites of her eye was tinted with pink, making her look tired and weak.

"I don't believe you." I answered, after my inspection of the room. The issue was hard to miss. Bailey's usual kick ass attitude was replaced by a fragile teen in a twin bed. It was sickening to see, excuse the pun.

She watched me process the news. Or at least that was what she thought I was doing. I was really contemplating what to say. Or what not to say.

"When are you coming back to school?" I ask. I instantly regretted the ignorant question as I watched her expression go from sympathetic to irritated in a matter of seconds.

"I'm not going to back to school, Ellie. I can't."

"But it's our senior year."

"El," She says quickly. "I'm dying."

"No," I shake my head. "Doctors are going to fix you. You're going to get better. You're going to graduate with me."

"Looks like God had other plans."  She smirked.

Bailey had a unending faith in God. I was an atheist. It was a topic we often bumped heads on, an chose to avoid as a topic of conversation. She's tried to convert me since seventh grade, when I admitted I didn't believe in him.

"That's not funny."

"I'm dying, let me joke." She orders, her eyebrows scrunching together. The expression caused me to realize how much I would miss her.

"What do you want me to tell the others?" I ask, referring to our friends. Bailey's been gone from school for almost two weeks with no word, so everyone was worried.

"Could you tell them for me?" She asks hopefully. 

"Of course." I nod.

"Thank you."

"Do you need anything? Magazines?" I ask.

"How about your brain?" She asks, her eyes closing.

"Bailey." I say her name quietly. Her eyebrows raise but her lids stay close. I could see her body go into a deep sleep.

"Ellie," I voice calls from behind me. It was Bailey's mother, leaning her head on the door frame. "Would you like some coffee?"

*****

"We've tried everything, there's nothing we can do." Her mother, Mary, handed me a cup of coffee. I wrapped my hands around the mug, warming the skin and calming my nerves.

"I can't believe it." I shook my head.

"Neither could I." She pours some creamer in her cup.

"I'm so sorry, Mary. No one deserves this."

"You're right."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Be there." She looks down at her coffee with hazy eyes.

"I can do that." I nod.

******

I walked back to my car. It was an Oldsmobile '93, it ran like shit and smelt like cigarettes, the woman who had it before me smoked like a chimney. The aroma usually gave me a blinding headache, but as I slid into the driver seat, it gave me unusual comfort and warmth. Something so familiar felt like home amidst the unknown.

I started the car and felt the engine wake from it's sleep. I grabbed the sticky wheel and took a deep breath. I glanced towards Bailey's house and saw her window. The curtains covered the glass, preventing her from seeing outside. It hit me suddenly, the knowledge that soon when I drove by this house, it would be just a house, and not my home away from home. That the curtains will be closed, because no one was in the room to enjoy the sunlight like she used to.

Tears grew at the corners of my eyes as I put the car in drive. I pulled out of the side of the road and drove away. I contemplated how I would tell her friends that she had three months left and how to comfort the one's who didn't take it well. I was never good at that, people who cried openly made me feel uncomfortable.

Slush began to fall from the sky as I rolled into my driveway. I exited the car and went into the house. My mom, Susan, looks up book and over her reading glasses.

"How was Bailey's?"

I drop my bag on the floor and take of my winter coat, letting it fall onto the ground.

"Ellie?" She asks worriedly.

"She's dying." I answer.

"Ellie, that's not funny."

"I know."