Then They Happened

Chapter 1

**posted: 11/29/2018**

(Picture of Zander above.)

Chapter 1

I use to look forward to coming home after chemo, I was eight then though, naive. It also helped that my stepmother didn't know that I was the product of my father's infidelity. . . Surprise! After that things changed, luckily I went into remission and didn't have to take her hatred and cancer at the same time.

My stepmother is a vile, selfish woman underneath all her makeup and charity events. She doesn't even care that her son, her only child, me, has cancer. Again! Susan, my stepmom, has even convinced herself that I'm faking it, and that my selfishness will be dealt with accordingly. Really though, my cancer is just another reason, out of an infinite pool of reasons, for her to bring me down.  

Shit I digress..... Anyway home isn't exactly where I wanna go right now. Right now I'm thinking about laying wrapped up in a blanket underneath a tree in some stranger's backyard. Don't get it twisted, I'm not a creepy stalker or anything, I've never even seen anyone at that house before. It's just that this particular tree is the perfect spot to watch the sunset. This house has an open backyard open to a plot of land that slopes down to the forest edge. It's prime viewing real estate. I know I'm a guy who's supposed to be manly, tough, but sunsets are my thing, they're beautiful, calming and all those other warm, fuzzy words. Plus I don't know how may more of them I'll get to see. One day, I'll become another color to blend the sky at dusk, and I hope someone will be watching.  Damn, I sound like a pansy, but you get cancer and then we'll talk. Another good thing about this house, is that it's only a few streets over from mine. So I can stay out here till about 6:30pm and then I have to head home, its 4:30 pm now, gives me plenty of time to unwind from a hard round. Don't worry I brought a giant smartwater and my own barf bags, this isn't my first show kids.

I pull my thick blanket out of my car and walk slowly to my tree. My legs ache, making every step a painful chore. I'm happy I have a giant blanket with me because I can fold one end in a few times to cushion the ground and use the rest of it to wrap around my body. Golly, I did not miss feeling like this at all, who could possibly fake this! God my stepmother is an idiot.

I've decided to go to school while I can, I signed myself up to go to Ashley Walters two weeks ago, shortly after we moved here. The move originally happened because my father wanted me to have a specialist take over my case. Ewing's Sarcoma is rare, fewer than a thousand cases in the U.S. per year. Hence the reason for the specialist, Dr. Roberts. He's cool I guess, for an old guy. I've only had my cancer back for about a month and a half, and I  started chemo two weeks before we moved here. I'm doing a session about every other week now and the full effects of pumping poison into my body are starting to take their toll. God I don't think I've ever been this nauseous, I take a few deep breaths hoping to keep what little food I have in my stomach, well, in my stomach. I know puking is inevitable when my saliva turns thick and metallic tasting. I hate throwing up, it's the worst thing ever, but I've kinda created my own system for it. It'd probably be annoying for anyone within hearing distance, but I don't have to worry about that. My process works for me. I twist my body so I can place my arms on my knees. I let my head rest on my arms and place the barf bag on the dirt beneath my head;  essentially building my barf bag a home with my body. I hum softly, trying to help with the dry heaves. Soon the taste of bile fills my mouth, and I choke on the thick, yellow liquid as my body fights the poison that's supposed to help me.

When I'm done I tie off the bag, with shaking hands and readjust my body, wrapping myself back up. My head is pounding and I close my eyes to take a few deep breaths trying to calm my senses. This fucking sucks.