Project Fat Suit

Twenty-Nine: A Magical, Talking Rat

Thank you to Kboou2 for interviweing me! You're awesome. 

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

The only thing I’ve ever understood about my life from living seventeen years is that life is unpredictable. One moment you’re smiling and laughing with your family, the next you end up one family member less. One moment you’re on a date with an extremely sweet guy, the next you find yourself breaking down in a hospice.

“Rena, promise me something,” Sherry said, extending her hand out to me.

I took her hand of course, but didn’t answer. I was too busy trying not to let a sob out.

“After I pass, take care of Trent for me.”

Trent. I haven’t even thought about ever since this crisis arose. Did he even know? He’s lost both of his parents and now has to go through another death?

“Sure,” I said, just saying what she wanted to hear.

“You’re lying. And crying. Hey, that rhymed.”

How can she joke at a time like this?

“Sherry, does he even know?” I tried to avert her from the ‘crying’ statement.

“Darling, he’s known ever since I was diagnosed. The doctor told him and his aunt straight away that my expiration date was in two years. He was upset at first, but he got over it and I think he’s accepted it now.”

“Why. . . why didn’t I know?”

I was somewhat offended that I wasn’t told, but I quickly slapped myself mentally for thinking such selfish thoughts. It was Sherry’s decision after all.

“Honey, you were already going through a rough time with your mother’s death. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to suffer anymore than you had to,” Sherry told me softly, giving my hand a squeeze.

I looked at Sherry’s calm face and remembered back when my mom just died. I was fifteen, the age where you need your mother the most. I remember going to visit Sherry in her nursing home every day and how I would break down every time I went to see her, but she always brought back my smile. But then she was moved to the hospital and I found out she had leukemia. She even comforted me about that, even though she was the one who had it. She taught me to be stronger and every time I couldn’t be, she was. Every problem I had, I never went to my family members. I went to her. She’s my best friend and like a second mother to me.

. . . And she’s going too.

Suddenly I couldn’t take it anymore. The serene look on her face. The beeping of the heart rate monitor. The presence of death in the hospice. I just couldn’t. Everything just reminded me of when my mother died. How bad things got. How I felt.

Tears were streaking my vision and I quickly got up. I just couldn’t be here anymore.