Glen

Chapter 11

Despite my inner turmoil, I chose to move forward with the chemo. I had a renewed vigor and wanted to go ahead and give life a try.

I had hope that my hair would grow back after the surgery, but the treatment wiped it out, totally, leaving me as smooth as a baby's rump. I didn't mind. Who was I impressing?

My 30-day rehab period had come and gone, and I was back in the comfort of my very own looney bin room. It was surprisingly good to be back. Outside of our basic cable, there was endless entertainment among the crazy people.

Dr. Cody graciously gave me a couple of weeks to adjust to the endless illness that came with cancer treatment and then we were back in the saddle. He arrived for our final part of the story, looking wary of my condition. I assured him I would live, for the time being, and I was ready to give him what he had waited so long for.

"Scotty," I said, nodding absently. "My Scotty. She was my favorite. Probably the only woman I never wanted to kill."

"Oh, really?" Cody seemed surprised. "Why is that?"

"Simple, Doc. She understood me!"

Scotty was older than me, which was already interesting. She was 30, tired, and yet endlessly giving of love and optimism, despite what life had handed her. She was a freckle-faced wheelchair user, short, squat, and round, with the figure of a Thanksgiving turkey.

Cody chuckled in surprise. "That's not very nice!"

"Her words not mine! It had to do with that fact that she was fat with had thunder thighs and no calf-definition. A surgery on her elbows had also given her little turkey wings. Don't think I'm being mean! I thought she was precious!"

Cody shook his head, grinning in spite of himself, and gestured for me to continue.

She had a dark sense of humor and went out of her way to be independent, to be anything but disabled. When we started our friendship, she was mousy and quiet, but as I got to know her, she bloomed into a sardonic, funny, psychopath.

I knew, deep down, that she would never hurt a soul, but it didn't stop her from joking about it. She knew when to flex her darkness and when to show people her light. She wore the perfect mask.

"What do you mean?"

I smiled, sadly. "She was one of the saddest people I ever met."

She tried desperately to maintain a smiling, sunny persona, but her heart had a hole in it that threatened to eat her alive. A great deal of her dark humor was self-deprecating and geared with the thought that, if they intend to laugh at her, she would instead make them laugh with her. She was strong, to me; like Atlus, bearing the weight of the world on her delicate shoulders.

It didn't matter how low she was feeling, she always had warm, encouraging words if someone else was in a dark place. There was just one problem. She was far too forgiving.

"Why do you think that's a problem?" Cody asked.

"Simple, Doc. So many people hurt her, almost continuously, and she would just smile and brush it off."

"That's a good quality, isn't it?"

I shook my head. "Not when you become a doormat just because you love someone."

Now, I'm not saying everyone she knew did this to her -I certainly didn't- but there were many throughout her life that did and she would shake it off, and give them the benefit of the doubt, again. It was then that I realized, hope could be toxic.