One Wish

"Jane, come on now. You have to eat something." My mother says. I didn't turn to her. I only continued to look outside my window. The clouds were dark in the sky, and rain drops began to softly hit the pavement. Children were running back inside their homes, and the wind began to pick up, making the trees dance. I loved the rain. There's something about it that gives me warmth and comfort.

"Hello? I'm speaking to you."

"Huh?" I turn to face her. "sorry.."

"Come on. Eat hun. You need it for energy." She says, jabbing a spoon at me. I look down at the tray she has brought for me. Looks like soup.

"Chicken noodle. Something not too heavy and it's nice and hot."

"Thanks mom…" I mumble. "I'll be back in a little while. You've better have eaten something by the time I get back"

She closes the bedroom door behind her, and I stare at the soup for a good minute or two. I eat a little bit. It doesn't taste too bad. My mother liked to cook.

She was good at it too, I always told her she should have gone into the culinary arts instead of accounting. She always replied with the same story. Grandma wouldn't allow it. Culinary arts wasn't as steady as a job as accounting.

My mother did what she was told, and she's been an accountant for a couple of years now. Grandma always taught her to be independent, and independent she was. Mom had my older brother, John when she was basically a teenager. It was her freshman year of college. She married my dad when they found out she was pregnant.

I swear they are each other's soul mates, because even with all the ups and downs, they still managed to stay together all these years. My dad joined the military, so he's gone a lot. My mother had to manage myself and my older brother alone most of the time. She had me when my brother was two. Gran thought it wasn't smart of my mother to have another child at only twenty years old, but mom didn't care.

I guess you could say John and I are very close. Not in just age of course, but other things. Our interests seem to meet each other's and we get along about 75% of the time. Once when I was in the hospital he told me about the time he put gum in my hair and told mom it was the neighbor kid who did it. Then he admitted that yes, I was a cute kid but pretty annoying- and that now I'm just annoying.

Despite his egotistical and somewhat sarcastically dark personality, he's also very sweet and kind. I think he's the only one who sees me as me…and not as the sick girl. Maybe it's because he doesn't fully understand, or he just doesn't want to… I don't like being treated differently. I just want others to be okay around me, and at least pretend it's going to be alright. I'm alright for now, so why can't they just pretend? For me…

I have Leukemia. I'm currently in remission, but it's only a matter of time before I relapse. (Or well, I seem to think so.)  I suppose as time progresses I'll get worse. It always does. 

"Honey? Have you eaten yet?" My mother calls from down the hall. Uh oh. Quickly, I eat a couple of spoon full's before she enters the room. "Good, I'm glad to see you're eating."

I nod. She sits down on the bed, looking at me.

"So Jane! I have some good news!" "Hmm?"

"Your father's coming down this weekend."

I smile at her, embracing her with a hug. "That's great mom, I'll be glad to see him. Only the weekend though?" I ask. She sighs, "I'm afraid so…But once he gets here, we have a surprise for you."

I give her a puzzled look. "Surprise?"

"Mhm. You'll just have to wait and see tomorrow." She chuckles. I narrow my eyes at her, and she turns to me gesturing if I still want my soup. I shake my head and she removes it from the bed. "I'll be back." She says, heading out the door once again. It's getting darker outside. The sun is setting, and the rain still falls. I'm a little tired today. It's early, but sleep sounds pretty good right now. I think sleep is best thing ever invented next to stuffed crust pizza and the snuggie. (Just kidding about the snuggie.)

My mother comes back in. She pulls the blankets over me, turning off the light next to my bed. She kisses my forehead, and heads out. Yes, she still tucks me in- but I don't mind. I kind of liked it when she did. She seems to be doing it a lot lately these past few weeks. She probably feels like she won't get to do it someday.

I was diagnosed with leukemia when I was fourteen. I am now seventeen. It's been three years. I've been in and out of remission, but according to my doctors- things may not get better from here if I relapse. 

Sometimes I hope that maybe God will spare my life- but then I think back and say…Why me? Out of all the children and teenagers and adults suffering with cancer, why would He save me?

I am no other than just a girl, tired of this painful disease. There are people out there- husbands, wives, even grandparents, all suffering like me- and sometimes I wonder, how could this happen? You always see things like this in movies, or doctor shows, and you never think this could possibly happen to you.

It almost seems unreal. My parents, including myself were in denial for quite a long time. They couldn't believe it. Their little girl was slowly withering away. I broke out of my denial, and tried to be optimistic about the situation. I strongly believed I could beat this thing. I wanted to believe this was just a big mountain in my way to getting to the promise land or something…But then later, I learned that this was not just a mountain. This was Mount Everest. Climbing over this mountain would be one of the hardest things I would ever do in my entire life.

I really thought I could do it. When I went into remission two years ago, I couldn't have been happier. I thought I was going to be alright. I prayed every day that I wouldn't relapse. I did, and I think my mother lost all hope then. It crushed her. After that I stopped hoping for things. I promised myself I wouldn't get my hopes up if anything like this happened again.

I wouldn't want to hurt my mom or myself. I know it's hard for her, seeing me this way. She's lived a hard life. She had to grow up pretty fast, but she played it off like everything was okay.

My father being a Marine and all, made things a little more difficult. My brother seems to have a lot of resentment towards him for not being here. I didn't. I knew he had duties to do, and that is what he wanted. Whenever dad was with us, he and mom would act like teenagers, but I think mom would hide her sadness just so she could have a good time with dad and us without any fights.

They did fight though, but whenever they did, it was never a five minute argument, it lasted for a while. My brother would come into my bedroom and play music for me so we didn't have to hear them.

My brother, John was sixteen when we found out I was sick. I think he was just as scared as I was, but didn't like to show it. I was the little sis that he would play pranks on and call 'butt face'. Now, there I was- sick, weak and full of unusual bruises that would soon lead doctors to diagnosing me with leukemia.

My brother loves me, even though he doesn't like to admit it. He still throws pillows at me, and calls me names like any other brother would do. He's nineteen now, and lives at home. Sometimes I feel like he's miserable and that it's my fault. He is smart, but I think he likes to hide his intellectual capabilities from us.

During his senior year of High School, I found letters in the trash. Acceptance letters into some pretty good Universities, but didn't bother to tell anyone. He ended up going to the nearby community college that was only a couple minutes away from home. I feel like the reason why he didn't go off to school was because of me. It makes me feel guilty.

Because dad is away, he feels obligated to do things for myself and mom. I think dad always made him feel like he had to be the man while he was away. He made John feel like we needed him to be strong for us because no one else would.

In a way, John did make us strong. He helped take me to my doctor's appointments, pick up prescriptions and even got a part-time job. Sometimes he would come into my room and we'd talk for hours. He'd talk about hating dad, but I never liked that. He would say that it's pretty 'fucked up' that a father would leave his wife and sick daughter just because he felt like it was his patriotic duty to go out there and be a part of some stupid war.

John always did have strong opinions. I admired him for that though. He was more outspoken than I ever could be. Never did he let someone try to run him over or try to change him. He was who he was. John's inspired me in many ways. He's made me see the brighter side of this illness. He made me want to be more like him.

I turn over to my side, closing my eyes and taking in a breath. My blankets coddle me, making me never want to leave my bed again. The warmth surrounds me, until slowly I drift off into sleep.