11:11

**one**

Arlo

     My mother got diagnosed with cancer exactly one month and two days ago.

    If there was one moment in my life that I would never forget, it would be when we received the news. My mom was strong, and would rarely cry in front of me. I remember holding her hand in the hospital and seeing her break down when the doctor told us.

It was absolutely heartbreaking.

I was crying as well, leaning into her shoulder and staining her shirt with my hot tears.

The doctors said that they didn't know if they had a cure for this type of cancer and she'll have to stay at the hospital day and night for tests and for treatments.

But, nothing has been working so far.

    I dreaded the nights where I had to leave the hospitals and return to my aunt and uncle's house. I hated leaving my mom in that room all alone with nothing but the IV's to accompany her. My dad left when I was seven, so there was no other option. Sleepless nights went by fast because they were occupied by worrying. A month and two days with my aunt and uncle. A month and two days of feeling fatigued, stressed, and broken. A month and two days wondering if my father found out the news and where he even is. A month and two days where I've drank enough Starbucks to keep me awake for the rest of my life.

    I stood beside her. She was asleep with tubes sticking up inside her nose and little bruises from where needles were pricked into her skin. I watched chest go up and down as she took a breath with her helpless, diseased body. I sighed and tried my best to make myself not cry. My mom began to blink a few times and then yawn. She turned to me and smiled.

    "Were you watching me sleep again?" She chuckles and repositions herself on the bed.

I laugh beside her, but I remain silent.

     "Arlo, you don't need to be here every second of everyday." She sighed.

     "I know."

     "The hospital is an upsetting place. You don't belong here."

      "I'm not leaving you."

I grabbed her hand and a smile spread upon her face. I could tell that she still has hope for a cure.

     "They're going to find one. I promise." She tries to relieve me.

     "I know. And I'm staying here until they do."

     My mom frowns, "I don't know how long I'm going to be in here. It maybe for many more months. You should make friends, go to parties, and have fun."

     "No. I'm staying with you."

I could tell my mom wasn't trying to be the bad guy in the situation. She only wants to help and block the pain from my brain. But, going around, making friends, and pretending that everything is okay when really it's tearing me apart is not something I'd like to do at this time.

     The doctor came in with his clipboard and a stethoscope around his neck as usual. His brown hair was ruffled and his eyes were baggy and blue. He gave my mother and I a smile and then sat down on the stool next to the bed. I moved towards the chair in the corner.

    "Eve, we would like to test you in about a week. We want to know where the cancer is growing and affecting you. Hopefully after this test we could create a formula of how to cure you."

My mother nodded and I watched as her flimsy tubes followed her head up and down.

     Dr. Adams looks at me and shrugged, "Visiting hours are over, kid." He states when shuffling out the doorway.

     I make my way towards my mom, "Goodnight, I love you."

     "Take care of yourself, Arlo."

I kiss her on the cheek and begin to exit the room.

     I hear the sounds of doctors rushing in and out of different rooms, nurses on the PA system, and family members crying over the relative that wasn't strong enough to make it. I push through the double glass doors and get into the Nissan my aunt was driving. My uncle sat next to her, not muttering a single word, as he usually does. They avoid the topic of my mother because I know that every time they see my face, they're reminded of the present and what is going on.

We drive away from the hospital in silence, and each mile we get closer to the house, more worries pop into my head.

     I check the time when we arrive home, 12:03 am.

It's been officially one month and three days and nothing has changed.