Teenage Bones

The Same.

The doctor flipped the light back and forward into my left eye. My left eye has heterochromia iridium. It doesn't do much, apparently it could. It just makes my left eye a blinding blue and my pupil a red in sunlight; I'm still getting check ups every month although I'm pretty sure if I'd know if happen to go blind. She disregards my long strand of hair that had fallen down my face and moved it aside with the thin torch. She turns it off; goes to her papers and scribbles before leaning on her desk and eyeing me. The room was a grey with white ceilings, and bed I was on was covered with the classic paper and I watch my legs swing past the blue ground. She was leaning on a desk opposite the bed where a computer was and screen. The keyboard had a card slot where her ID was; her desk was a mess of paper and wooden tongue sticks. The only clear thing is her printer. The blue curtain that was hushed aside waved at me with summer breeze. My doctor herself was in her late twenties, her black hair in a bun. She was African, which I found cool. I loved it when she'd tell me what it was like in Africa. I remember my first blood test, she told me about it, even the elephants. Her dark eyes were always comforting and always checking me. When I asked about her accent she said her dad was African and her mum was English. They had a common factor that they both knew English so they stuck with that.
Even now, with her hands on her hips, it was nice to see her. I stopped swinging my legs when she persistently starred at me.
"How long are we not going to talk about this Esmè?" I smile at her concerned face and straighten my back.
"As long as I need to. " I say and she sighs in return. She clears a space on her desk with her hands and lifts herself onto the table. The expression on her face wasn't angry but concerned. She speaks again just when I thought that'll be it. It normally is.
"Look, you are seventeen and that means you have the choice if your parents are being involved." She clasps her hands in her lap. "The last time I weighed you, you were fifty kilograms on the dot, now you're forty six. What are you doing Esmè?" She askes. I look down at my black skinny jeans and rainbow crop top, my thighs were at least four centimetres apart but my knees were together. It wasn't a surprise, honestly I was waiting for her to ask me about it for about three months now. My weight had been like a rollercoaster ride and I just didn't have the time for it. Collage was right around the corner and medical stuff with my eyes were bad enough. Not that it was really bad.
So I shugged and swung my legs forward and backwards. She couldn't do anything and I think that's why she asked, in case I knew. I didn't.
She muttered and turned away, jumping from her table and typing away at her keyboard. 
"Well you're free to go, but come back if you feel dizzy or sick or, you know," she turns to face me,"You faint."
Moving my butt forward, I push myself off the bed and get caught by my feet as they land firmly on the floor. She shakes her head at me as I open the door. Before I leave, I turn to her.
"I'll be fine dr. Adivan." And I smile politely and walk out before I'm stopped.

Walking off the public bus gave a small sense of relief from a reoccurring headache every time I was on it. Black jeans began to heat up in the sun but my rainbow short top let out the heat. The bus stopped by a medium recregration ground in Cobham in Surrey where (down a couple roads) I lived with my dad, step Mum and little brother. It wasn't a far walk and I'm always thankful for it. It gets tiring some days and I have to stop to catch my breath because I can't get enough oxygen. It's not a big deal and nothing my doctor should be worried about. Across the field accompanied by lights and past a slightly bigger park then usual, there's an exit that leads to the main road and a crossing with lights. By the time I have reached the lights, my breathing is heaving and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. When the lights turn red and the beeping sounded, I walked (while holding my chest) to the other side and passed the ACS primary school. I take a right down Pennyfield road and look for my door number, 50. As I walked, I notice the door colours like rainbows but darker version, other than my step mum's infatuation with painting the door a bright red so 'We have a bright midset as we reach our home'. It was horrifying ugly when it was first done but now I look at it, it's not too bad after all.

I drag my feet to the door and flick my wrist a couple times, ending in a loud knock. I can hear crying already, which would belong to my brother, Jonathan, which gets called Jace. He gets upset when someone knocks and he can't open the door, he's too tiny. For a three year old, he is really well behaved. He hardly ever cries over not getting something and he always brushes his teeth, even if it is because of the the brush being paw partol themed and the flashing timer. He still does it and doesn't complain about mouthwash. The crying stops and I hear two locks turn before the latch shifts and my freckly, fiery red headed step mum is in the door way, holding it open with Jace on her right hip. A red dinosaurs vest and small jeans with orange and black socks was what covered most her right side. His ginger rooted head was calm once he saw me, smile across his face as he blew bubbles at me in his siliver.
"How'd it go then Es'?" She questioned me as I attempted to step into the house but was blocked by her moving slightly. I knew why and yet, I still didn't agree.
"Let me in. " I sighed, she did this every time since I hit 16. It's not that I didn't want her there because she is rude or disrespectful, it's because she worries about it. She has enough to worry about, my dad and work and Jace. Honestly these appointments are my burden to bare. If anything got too concerning, I would obviously tell her but they won't.
I point at my left eye, "Well I'm not blind yet Liz. " I lower my accusing arm and try to go around her, she moves to block the door. Again. Jace was content playing with the hem of her lime v-neck top.
"What about your weight?" She questions and I shrug.
"It didn't come up," I say as I bite the inside of my cheek, I hate lying. I can taste blood already. She bought the lie.
"You were meant to bring it up. " she pouts. It was then she moved out the way and I walked in. The hallway has creme walls and the stairs are to my left. The hallway is wooden floored and has a door mid way on the right to lead to the lounge and straight ahead was the kitchen. The stairs was carpeted with a blinding white fluffy carpet; some how they always manged to make the carpet stay blinding white. The kitchen walls were grey, with a sliver oven and van above. The floor was stone tiled with floor heating, and marble counters with an island in the middle. Cupboards were black with sliver horizontal handles. The window was directly opposite the entrance to the kitchen and below it was a sink, even though we have a dishwasher. If you walk into the kitchen, to the right there is a large open area with tables and chairs, spoons, knives, forks, plates and bowls with glasses were all laid out on a black table cloth. A new batch of flowers would always be sitting in a long triangular glass vase. They always were. As you were facing the table, the left wall was instead complete windows that opened to enter the garden. The hallway, kitchen and lounge had canvased-printed photos of my dad, Liz, Jace and me. The the white sphere lampshades matched except the ceiling lights in the kitchen and lounge. On the kitchen counters there was a silver and black microwave and toaster. Above the toaster is a magnetic knife rack was was literally knives stuck to the wall. The two door fridge- freezer was silver too, with long vertical black handles.
Walking to the lounge; the room was a medium size with dark purple walls, wallpaper was on the opposite walll to the door. It was trees, some of the leaves were made of a shiny pinkish paper that annoyingly reflected light. The light shade matched the rest and the furniture was mostly leather; double leather sofa by the back wall and two single chairs against the wall paper. There was a wooden coffee table in the middle, that looked like a large square log. In the corner of the room, left from the door, there was a smart television hung on the wall. Step by step, I carry myself over to one of the leather armchair and make myself comfortable. Liz sits in the one next to mine with Jace still in her lap. She gave me time to sit back and breathe from the walk.
Liz cleared her throat.
"Look, ever since Hope passed, you've been distant. I need you to know you can talk to me, or Jace- though all he'd do is blow bubbles at you. " she said. Jace looked confused, having heard his name being called and only me starting at him. He looked around the room in his unstable baby neck. He was also looking for Hope, I know he missed her.

I remember one summer evening, she was staying at ours for the week while her parents were on a cruise. Jace had just started to nearly walk and she'd hold his hands, encouraging him to move and dance and balance. She'd go laps around the garden, her straight long strawberry blonde hair getting in the way of her gorgeous green eyes. They both loved it. And at the end of the night, she'd be with me, alone in the lounge watching movies. We'd cuddle on the sofa and I would try my best to sync my breathing with hers, hoping my heart beat would do the same. I'd hold her and she'd hold me too sometimes. She loved everyone, shy but always polite- even when it was really hard for her to do so.

I realise I've been staring at a toddler for minutes, and turn to see Liz's concerned face.
"I'm not distant, or acting out; I miss her. "
Apprently that's no better.
"We're having chicken kebabs today," she mumbles, " I hope you get a whole one down. " she walks out of the room a hurry, taking Jace with her.