Things Unsaid

Realizations

I woke up the next morning starring at my bracelet. The countdown, the cancer, the symptoms...it all made sense.

The bracelet counted down the days I had left to live.

I'm not sure why I didn't realize it before. After all, I always loved to believe in that supernatural stuff. Mysterious bracelet? Sudden illness? Of course there was a connection. Still, it felt quite uneasy knowing that the bracelet had a countdown. I couldn't stop it by taking off the bracelet. Did it really mean I only had 98 days left? 98 months? A knock on the door got me up.

"Don't worry, I got it!" I called so that the rest of my already getting ready family couldn't open it first. Sure enough, Jake was at the door. I smiled. Last night definitely wasn't a dream.

"Good morning, sleepy head!" He said while holding a cup of what looked like to me a better than hotel coffee.

"A mocha latte from the bakery in the lodge."

Smiling, I accepted the coffee. It was lovely. "Thank you."

"So are you ready?" he asked. I chuckled a bit looking at my messy hair, morning breath and pajama pants with the oversized tee. "Do I look ready?"

"I'll give you a bit. See you at breakfast."

Right. Breakfast. Spilling the news of the millennium. Great. At least Jake was going to be there and help me through it. He understood. I finished off the late and got dressed. High waisted shorts, fuchsia tank top, and a light breezy coverup. Vacation fashion for the summer. My family double checked the room and eventually headed downstairs to where the dining area was. Breakfast buffet. Hotel morning scent would make a lovely candle smell. Christine started packing a plate with hash browns and scrambled eggs as my parents stood in the hot n' fresh line. I grabbed some French toast, a cinnamon roll, grapefruit juice and yet another coffee. Never enough coffee. Christine sat next to me as we waited for our parents.

"So, about this boy..."

"His name is Jake, and he's a nice attractive beach lover that also comes all the way from Rivertown like us."

The moment of gossip was perfect. I didn't tell her about the whole terminal thing, but she didn't even need to know that yet. A girly moment can't be ruined that quickly. Shortly after mom and dad sat down with their omelets and pancakes. We ate and Christine passed giggly eyes at me referring to our Jake conversation.

"Speak of which..." I turned around to see Jake standing there with a glass of orange juice, some toast and a yogurt with some fresh fruit on the side. 

"Hey, do you mind if Jake sits with us for breakfast?" I asked, pleading my parents to say yes. Christine encouraged the idea, and they approved. Taking a deep breath, my mind tried to focus on what was happening. Never in a million years would I ever actully plan to admit such news at breakfast on vacation. Luckily for me, having Jake on the side helped...a lot. It seemed okay.

We ate in silence for a bit. Awkward tension undercover from all the chewing and processing of food. Eventually Jake started up a conversation. Habitual chit chat, but a tension breaker at it's finest.

"So how long are you staying?"

Three days. 

"I've from Rivertown as well. I've been homeschooled for most of my life."

You don't say.

"This fall i'm actually starting up at public school for senior year at Rivertown High."

Oh, so you're going to be at the same school as Christine and Angie.

"Yes, I am. Public school seems a bit scary, but hey, I think if something scares you, it should be faced head on." He turned to stare right at me. "After all sometimes what scares us the most, gives us the most life."

I smiled as we shared the brief moment. It wasn't just a nice comment about his philosophy on school. It was encouragement about cancer. I would even bet that by going to public school for the last time he has was another one of his wishes that he begged his parents to agree to. Living a normal life even when it is destined to end.

When the next moment of silence occured, I finished off the little bit of the cinnamon roll that was left, and put down my fork. It was time. Realizing that the moment was finally clear, I was ready to make my move and spill my guts. Tell them about the cancer and the doctors appointment, and even the bracelet and what I believed it meant. I wanted to say everything about what was happening and end up in a group hug where under layers of tears I would tell them just how scared I was. But then it all changed. Instead, I saw my loving family sharing a nice breakfast the morning of the second day of vacation. I saw the sparkle in my dad's eye as he was proud of the promotion. I saw my mom's beautiful smile as she ate the omlet, looking more relaxed than she had in months, potentially years.

I chickened out.