Stories the Butterfly Told Me

3. London

Chapter 3

 

The butterfly fell silent. This story had really affected me; I felt how the range and sadness pumped in my veins, still long time after the story had ended. Why was that? I had never heard of this story till the butterfly told me. Strangely enough it was the guy I was annoyed with, some part of me truly pitied him, but I just could not help thinking it was his own fault. Why had he not followed their plan? Why had he not thought of her feelings in this? I just knew she had her reasons for being angry with him, for leaving him in the rain and well - in life. I was still picturing the guy with the curls standing there in the rain, as the butterfly started on the next story.

"You have six months left to live in," the doctor gives me a look filled to the edge with pity, "I'm sorry." These are the first of his words I hear, he has been talking for almost an hour about 'my condition'. Speaking a language I did not understand filled with words such as; glial cells, chemotherapy, astrocytoma. I do not move an inch. I keep my gaze on the plastic plant in the corner of the room; I think it is suppose to look like an aloe vera. But it is way too neon green, too unnatural to be real. I am suddenly filled with a blaze of anger and the deepest hate against that plant. Why does it have to be fake? Why does it have to look like something it is most definitely not? Aloe vera symbolizes 'good luck'. I hate that fact.

I hear the door close, as the doctor exits the room, probably trying to give me some time. Time to what? I only have half a year left to live in. Time to think over my time left? Spare me. I do not even know why he bothers. I should be the one leaving his office, not him. I am perfectly capable of doing so.

Which is why I get up. I hate this room; the walls are too white, too clean. Everything here makes me sick to my stomach - especially that fake and way too green flawless plant, that is still in the corner.

I emerge into the hallway. I feel fine, perfectly fine. I have an appointment with my boyfriend at 3 AM; we are going to meet a place close to Waterloo station. I am fine. I am good. I feel fine. I have six months left. Six months left to be perfectly fine.

This hallway is also way too sterile; there is no soul to this damn place. The only stories haunting these hospital halls are the ones filled with sickness and pity. Because of that exact fact I am truly annoyed and I can not stand it anymore, it feels like I can not breathe in this air, my lungs simply do not cope with it.

I am practically running to get away from there now. Finally I am outside, but it is not far enough. I cannot stand the sight of that place, those hospital buildings. As I run further through the park, the only thought on my mind is him; his curly brown hair, crooked smile, amazingly brown eyes. We have been together for years and we share an apartment here in London. I am fine.

The sunbeams are sneaking their way down the massive roof of leaves, which the trees are creating. It is leaving everything in a slightly green colored light. Abruptly I stop up to catch my breath and listen to the music of my pounding heart; it is galloping away.

The only sound besides my heartbeat is some laughing kids at the green lawn, which have one of those "do not step on the grass" signs. The trees and plants here are the right colors, not the fake neon green. And most importantly; these plants are not made of plastic or 'made in China', these trees have been standing on the sideline of the world, as life has passed by and history has been written.

I defy the sign and walk across the lawn to the nearest and biggest tree. I love the smell of the grass. I am fine.

I glide down with my back against the tree and simply sit there, while staring at the playing kids. To be honest; I do not really see them; my mind is finally letting the doctors words sink in. Six months left. That is not even the time it takes for a fetus to fully develop. I am never going to get the chance to become a mum. I am never going to make that one-year world trip. Aaron. I am not the one, who is going to grow old with him, who is going to enjoy the company of our playing grandchildren.