When former beauty pageant queen, Ellie Wilde, hears of her grandmother's sickness, she's the first to offer to drive her to her chemotherapy. What she didn't know she was agreeing to was an obnoxiously cheerful blond boy somehow nudging his way int...
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The chairs in the waiting room on the fourth floor don't feel quite right to her. They're the same chairs she usually sits in with Cooper in the lobby; except they're not. They're much too stiff, she doesn't feel welcome in her seat. And as if the bad back she'll acquire from her thirty minutes of waiting isn't awful enough, the fabric scratching away at her skin, as if she's a pest invading its personal space, does the trick.
But the worst part of it all, beyond the stiffness and the scratching, is her lack of companionship.
She stares down at her phone, contemplating whether or not she wants to check it again. She knows what she'll find, but against her better judgment, she presses down on the button on the side anyway. Her screen illuminates to show nothing but the date and time. No text messages. No calls. Not even a push notification from one of the numerous apps on her phone. Sighing, she slides it back into her jacket pocket and continues to await her grandma's arrival.
A whopping five minutes—and two phone checks—later, Ellie's grandma greets her with a smile.
"All done," she says, an extra chipper tone to her voice.
A ghost of a smile tugs at Ellie's lips as she takes in her positive aura. "You're quite happy for someone who's leaving chemotherapy."
"That's because I am quite happy, dear."
"Oh?" She asks with a laugh, reaching for her grandma's jacket in hopes of lessening her load. She drapes the fabric loosely over her arm and presses the button to summon the elevator. "And why is that?"
"I'm cured," she says firmly, the smile never leaving her lips. "I'm all better."
Ellie freezes, turning to face her with a blank expression. She almost misses the sound of the elevator but is quickly brought back to reality as her grandma steps forward. She follows after her, thankful that they seem to be the only people occupying this particular elevator.
Ellie hits the button to take them down to the lobby before turning to her grandmother once more. "I can't believe you're better. This is such great news! Did the doctors tell you today?"
"No."
She frowns. "Well then why did you wait so long to tell us?"
"The doctors haven't told me anything." Her grandma sees the clear confusion on her granddaughter's face as she laughs before adding, "But I can feel it. I can feel myself getting better."
"What do you mean, 'you can feel it'?"
"I know my body better than any doctor in this world. And my body is telling me that I'm better. The chemo is working on me."
A sad sigh leaves Ellie's throat. "Grandma, science—"
"I don't need you to talk to me about science," she says, cutting her off from her what-was-sure-to-be-long rant about reality. The elevator chimes, alerting them to their arrival at the lobby. "I just know that I'm getting better, Ellie."
