Charlie and Miles

Charlie

"I find over the course of human existence one thing consists of consistence, and it's that we're all battling fear." - Car Radio, TØP

***

"Happy birthday, dear Charlie, happy birthday to you." My family watched as I carefully blew out the candles on my cake. Mom, Dad, and Julian, my little brother. All of them had been ruined by me. A thought that never stops to haunt me when I see Julian doing his homework in the plastic chair outside of my door, or when Mom comes in, worry lines and grey hairs forming, or when Dad follows her, stressed enough with work.

Dad was the one I feared most. Julian I knew could get by, Mom would be devastated, but Dad, Dad would be disappointed. First I turn out to be gay, and then I get an unknown cancer. Of all the things to happen to his son, I imagine those two would be in the top five worst.

I couldn't even imagine the money it took to keep me in the hospital. I'd been at Northwest Children's for three weeks doing tests, and then they moved me here, to St. Matthews, and even before I got sick, we weren't exactly rolling in the dough.

"Whatcha thinking about, snickerdoodle?" My mother, Cynthia, pushed back my brown hair away from my eyes. Being in the hospital forced me to grow my hair out longer than I'm used to, the sides starting to touch my shoulders. But we hadn't started chemo yet.

They weren't even sure what I had. Just that it was something.

There was a knock on my door before I could answer, and my old doctor came in, followed by what must be my new doctor and his fancy assistant. At St. Matthews, the doctors get personal assistants that were churned straight from the med school a couple of blocks away. Or, at least, that's what I heard my dad tell my mom when they were choosing a hospital for me.

Dr. Bell cleared her throat. "Hello, Charlie. Cynthia, James, Julian. Since you're officially an adult, we thought it would be a smart idea to move you to the adult hospital. Are you okay with that?" The question was directed at me. She'd always belittled us, probably because she knew us when we were really young, but after talking to some others, it appeared that anyone who was sick automatically had the mental capacity of a toddler, with the physical health of an old man.

I shrugged. "Yeah."

She turned and pulled the older guy forward, who was obviously the doctor. "This is Doctor Morse. He's worked a lot with patients that have the cells where yours are." She began talking about his credentials, and I tuned out, studying the guy who would be studying me. He was about 10 years older than my parents, with that pepper and salt styled hair that only the older actors can pull off and stubble on his cheek. His wedding ring caught on the light as he reached to shake my parents hand.

"And this," Bell continued, pulling the nurse forward. "This is Miles Hart. He will be your nurse practitioner during your stay here. You know, taking blood, getting you food, just checking up on you."

I shifted my focus to the nurse, and almost gave a Hallelujah to whatever god blessed me with him. He was around my age, maybe a little older, which kind of shocked me, considering that I always thought med school took a long time. He had short black hair, obviously styled for meeting his new patients, and he didn't even bother wearing scrubs. Just skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that said "Patient number 0". Well, as long as he's got a sense of humor.

"Miles just started with us last month, having going through 3 years of medical school at the young age of 19!"

Considering I just turned 18, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from hailing Mary. My parents made the natural remarks that parents made, like "Impressive" or "Charlie graduated a year early too, and is planning on taking classes at the community college while he kickstarts his band."