Perfect II: The Art Of Living

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Skylar White watched from afar, behind the plastic glass that created a balk between him and Jesse who had pursed lips on his hospital bed. Jesse shut his eyes and laid his head on the tilted chair as his pointy nose was aimed at the ceiling. Skylar could not help his tear to slide and drastically fall to the marble tiles. Wearing his face mask, he insisted to penetrate the plastic glass with his face. They did not allow him to enter even though he said he was ohana: Angel’s favorite word from some kiddie T.V. show. Jesse The Barbarian lay there with mortified pale skin.

           It was Jesse’s first chemo. He had AML or Acute Myloid Leukemia. It was his first time to lose hair. The cap Skylar made him showed his long flowing hair like threads King Midas touched. Some streaked down and but mostly, the cap restricted his hair from blooming. However, Little Jesse liked it. He’d turn the visor in front, at back and all around. Today, he kept it on his hand. He wanted to sleep. He obeyed his thirst for rest. He cried all night according to his nurses, insisting that chemo would hurt. It did. Skylar broke it to him before Little Jesse sat on the tilted chair. He knew this would be for Jesse’s benefit but it seemed that Jesse lay on an electrocution chair that’d kill him any instant now. Skylar averted watching the macabre treatment and he paused to sit on one of the long sky blue benches nearby. He felt rivers of tears Jesse The Barbarian produced now. He could not watch. Four hours. Jesse would be a new boy. A new life form but same brave soul.

           Fear is the syringe that makes us aware we are alive. Fear is a precious emotion that tickles our consciousness and slaps our recklessness. It is fine to fear everything but whatnot is succumbing to fear itself.

           In geometry, a point is the simplest unit one can observe. It makes up lines, planes then three dimensional figures on the same method: connection between other points. Life is a point. Emotion is life. Have emotion, have life. Your life connects itself to emotions, making you, complexity upon figures. It doesn’t matter what emotion you are capable of acquiring but it matters what holds your foundations as a person. Producing fear or knowing fear doesn’t matter with how your life will be. Cherishing fears molds you to become a fortified ruler of yourself. It defines how you build/built yourself. That is how fear works.

           Three hours passed and still, no relatives showed up. Skylar stood and glanced to the empty halls. He was alone. He was used to it. Solitude never bothered him. Neither did it make him joyous.

           “Sir!” someone professionally claimed from the intersection to his left. “AML patient, Jesse…”

           “White.”

           “Jesse White’s relative?”

           “A new doctor?” Skylar inquired. “You don’t know me?” His tears were swept before he faced the neophyte. Skylar scowled. “I might be.”

           “So Mr,”

           “White.”

           “So Mr White,” the doctors said in a more confident tone but sadly, he showed signs of misfortune. “Jesse is in terminal stage,” he said, nearly vague and emotionless.

           Before he could add, Skylar already landed him a blow with his palm. Tears he imagined flaring from Jesse’s eyes now scratched his own pale face.

           “He’s a kid!” he curtly protested. “H-H-How come! It is impossible! Y-You’re an a-a-amateur! You cannot diagnose some stranger that he has t-terminal cancer stage! It is his first time to have chemo!”