Tea Leaves and Diamond Bracelets

Mesquite

Match Two: Mesquite:

She's wasting away.

Florence started to look more frail. Her red hair looked stringer and brittle. Her eyes looked so empty. Her clothes hung off of her body now. Sometimes, Florence could barely stand up without any help. This was like that winter she went with Alfred and Lydia to Coney Island only worse. Was she ever that pale?

"How long does she have?" Alfred asked Lydia.

"I'm not sure," she said. "The doctors say about ten months to a year. But now..." She clutched her wrist.

"It's going to be okay," someone spoke up. Alfred and Lydia looked up to see Florence sitting across them on the couch. She smiled with her bony hands in her lap.

"I am okay with the news," Florence said. "You've told me what was going to happen. I have accepted it."

"Florence..." Lydia said.

"It's okay, Lydia," the older sister said. "I have accepted that I will die soon enough." Alfred stared at her with big eyes. How could she be this brave? Florence wasn't mad at her illness. She didn't curse it. She didn't cry over it. She seemed to cherish each day before the end came.

"Hey, Florence," Alfred said.

"Hm?" she asked.

"Could we go to Coney Island again sometime?" he asked. "All three of us." Lydia turned her head with shocked eyes.

"You serious?" she asked. He patted her on the head.

"Of course," the American man said. "We are all family."

"Since when?" Lydia asked.

"Aw, don't be like that!" he said. "And here I was thinking that we were getting close." The young woman wrinkled her nose and clicked her tongue.

"What was that for?" Alfred asked. He and Lydia looked up when they heard laughing. Florence covered her mouth as she giggled.

"So nice to see you two getting along so well," she said. Lydia raised her eyebrow.

"Huh?" she asked. Alfred rubbed the back of his hand and laughed.

"You can say that!" he said.

"No," Lydia said.

"And yes," Florence said.

"Yes what?" the American man asked.

"I would like to go to Coney Island one more," she said. "With both of you."

"Yeah!" Alfred shouted, pumping his fist into the air. Lydia rolled her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

"Whatever," she muttered under her breath. Florence sat back and smiled.

Florence's declining health isn't his only worry, though.

Alfred's having strange visions again. Something about them seemed off. He's had nightmares before and they meant nothing to him. But these felt too real. He saw that high school gym again. That fifteen-year-old boy stood watching the basketball game again. His clothes hung off of his body. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days, but he wouldn't go get something to eat. Alfred couldn't understand the reason, but something about that boy looked familiar.

He couldn't see his face. The blonde bangs hid the boy's eyes. Someone walked up to him and tried to talk to him. The boy functioned like a normal person for the most part. He smiled and talked to that other person in front of them.

But it was all an act. The skinny blonde boy was hurting on the inside.

It seems unfair that I have to keep living like this. I just don't know if I can keep living like this. It's so exhausting. What if things don't get better? I'm scared that I'll be trapped in this cycle forever. I'd rather die than live with this for the rest of my life. Things are already falling apart. I've gained so much weight and I don't think I can tolerate gaining any more.