Learning to Love Again

Four ~ Jonathan

Recap:

"Mom? What's wrong?" I ask her.

"We just got a call from your sister," she says, her voice quivering.

"About?"

"Jonathan, Lacy has cancer."

That's when everything I had been holding in, finally came pouring out of me.

Jonathan's POV

"Cancer?" I ask her, in shock of the words that just came out of her mouth, not caring about the tears rolling down my face.

"Yes, Jonathan, cancer," she starts crying and comes over and engulfs me into a hug.

"How? When? Why?" I ask.

"I don't know why, baby. I don't know how this could've happened either. And she found out a week ago, and called me about two hours ago."

I fall to my knees, unable to keep myself steady.

"Jonathan?" Mom calls out, "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay. You just told me that Lacy has cancer!" I shout.

"Don't yell, your not the only one who's hurting," she scolds me.

"I'm sorry, I'm going out for a drive," I told her, running back to my car.

Why does this have to happen?

I reach my car and open the door, collapsing into the front seat, and scream.

I scream as loud as I can.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

After about two, three hours of driving, I reach a park.

It seems fairly empty, so I climb out of my car and walk over to a bench by the small, heart shaped pond and sit down, putting my head down into my hands, letting my emotions flow out of me.

"He-hey, are you okay?" A small, familiar female voice asks me.

"Huh? Oh uhm, yea, I'll be fine," I look up and see a girl, familiar and tiny, standing in front of me.

Sofia?

No, Sofia was different I think. Not openly willing to talk.

"Have we met before?" I ask her, doubting my initial thoughts on who she is.

"Uhm, yea. I'm Sofia. We met at Dr. Sanchez and Dr. Richardson's office," she says, nervously moving next to me, motioning with her hand towards the empty space next to me, "can I sit?"

I nod, "Oh yea, I remember now. What brings you to the park though?"

"No-no reason, really," she looks down at her hands, "what about you?"

"Just..." I start, letting out a deep sight, "needed some air."

"Why were you crying?"

"It's nothing," I say, getting up, "well, I should probably head home, see you around."

"Okay...see you around, I guess," she says awkwardly, looking looking back at the murky blue water.

She's different.

Like Taylor was.

Taylor was outgoing, beautiful, carefree. She never let a single thing get to her. Until our grandfather passed away. He was her world. She was also his favorite. That's when she first got depressed.