Forever and a day

Chapter One: Christa p.o.v :-)

It is times like these that I wish I could be alone. I wish there was no one around. That way I could cry and cry and feel pity for myself. Then wipe all the tears away and tell everyone not to cry. Tell them to be strong for me. It is times like these I wish I wasn't strong. Then people will come and give me a hug and tell me it will be okay. Tell me lies that will never satisfy my hunger for happiness and peace.

  You see, I just learned that I have Coronary artery disease and will need a heart  transplant. May sound easy, just get a heart transplant. But that is the problem. We can't afford it. My family isn't very wealthy and I am in the hospital now because my sister's husband volunteered to help pay for my visit. But the cost of the surgery is way too much and I couldn't possibly allow him to pay such amount.

        I was going to die and I hadn't even kissed a guy yet.

   My mother was sitting in the corner with my father, weeping. My father's jaw was locked in place and his eyes were glaring at anything in the plain hospital room. My older brother was staring out the window with a shocked expression on his face.

Me? I was trying hard not to cry and look strong. What was the reason crying over the inevitable? I was going to die and no amount of crying would change that.

  "Please. Is there nothing more you can do for her? Is my baby really going to die?" I looked to my hysterical mother then turned to the doctor who had broke the horrible news. He looked nervous and would much rather be somewhere else. I felt sorry for him. He must have seen this millions of times, yet would never get the feeling of disappointment. I knew I would.

   " Mother. Do not make the man anymore nervous than he already is. He can do no more than what he has already done." My voice was small, but held authority and sincerity. "You may go now doctor. I think we will be fine for now."

    The man nodded curtly after a few moments and left through the door he had walked in through.

    It was quiet for what seemed like forever.

  "So, how is everyone doing?" Maybe not the best question, but I was tired of the silence and truthfully annoyed by it.

   My brother's eyes snapped up to meet mine. "How do you think we feel? I just learned that my sister is going to die! You never cared about what happened to yourself when we were kids. And truthfully, I didn't care back then. We were kids anyway. But we aren't kids anymore. Can you at least act like you care that you might die tomorrow? Stop acting like a selfish bitch and think about others for once. Think about me!"  By the end of his rant he was in tears and for the first time in my life, I saw what it was like to be him. All his life, he had to be the one who looked after my health. It was true. I did not care at all about my condition. I just wanted to appear strong. That way, I could help everyone else be strong too. But was this what I was really doing? Making my brother feel like I did not care for him? I loved him to pieces and truthfully did this because I wanted him to feel as if he was being there for me. Which, he was doing quite fine now, but I just.....thought.

  "Gabe...I-" I was cut off by a grunt from my brother. "Don't bother." With that, he stomped out of the room and somewhere in the building. Mother, not being one for unsettled fights with her offsprings, tan after him. Leaving me and father to ourselves.

    We seemed to be staring off into space. Looking at anything but each other. If one were to look at us as if we were a picture hanging upon a museum wall, they would not see the tension that stood in the air. The way it seemed to engulf us in a wool blanket. This picture was a one that held sadness and pain. It was a picture that held and rang truth that was vacant in most pictures. Here, there was no room for a probability. Only the darkest and deepest truth that no artist could capture.

My father's jaw ticked and my fingers fiddled on top of the hospital bed spread.     "You know he is right." The first thing to come out of my father's mouth since we had learned the horrible news, was the confirmation of my bitchiness towards my brother.  "I am a bad sister. I get that now. No need to rub it in you know."   My father did something that made me very surprised. He laughed. 

   "You are not a bad sister. You just make yourself look strong so that we don't feel bad about ourselves. You want us to feel like we have done our best to raise you and truthfully, I could never feel as if I hadn't. I just feel as if I am not a good enough as a father for you and your brother. I feel as if I am not a good husband to your mother and if I could....."   "Daddy. I love you. You are a good father. And don't get me started on how good a husband you are. I just feel as if I am not a good enough daughter. I am always sick. I am just pathetic. If I wasn't so sick all the time, maybe you and ma could go out and have a night together. And Gabe wouldn't be mad at me. And I wouldn't have to act so strong and just let people see my soft side once in a while. I should be ashamed." My father got up out of his seat and walked toward my bed side and hugged me tightly. There, father and daughter cried and cried. Both having many different reasons to cry. Soon, I felt more hands wrapped around me and knew my mother and brother were back. It was times like these that I wish would last forever.

     When my family left that night, I sat in my bed and cried. I cried for my mum. I cried for my dad. I cried for my brother. And I cried for myself. I knew what I had to do. Even if it killed me.