a breath is all it takes.

Date: September 18th 2018

Red paint falls on the floor. The sound of the tin can ringing in my only good ear. I feel intoxicated and nauseous to the touch. My back slides to the ground as the words "I have cancer," leave his lips. I try and make sense of the situation. Why would my best friend decide to say he has cancer? Unless it’s a sick trick trying to fool a gullible man. His voice is calm, A voice of a live one so soon to go. He crouches next to me and places a soft gentle calm hand on my violently shaking body.

"It's ok," his voice is perfect. Like summer rain and soft like cotton.

“No it’s not.” I call leaning my back on the wall. The red paint resembling a murder scene around us.

“Listen. I have 6 months and we should make the most of it.” I look into his eyes and see his prosthetic leg out straight in front of him. I remember when we were both young. Sitting on my deck last summer him touching my thigh as I look into his deep brown eyes. He touches my thigh again and I smile gently. Anxiety seeping out of my body. The paint was for our anniversary and now he’s telling me he has 6 months to live. He’s always had short of breath, but I just thought it was asthma not this simplistic gateway to death. I mean a lot can happen in 6 months. And he has to live.

“Well. Let’s live.” I say getting up fiddling with my hearing aid. He brought life back into my life and now it’s time to pay it forward. We’re going to live.

The next day I travel to his house because I need to get away from my mom who's nagging about chores. He's my secret get away. When I open the door he ambushes me behind a fort of pillows using his prosthetic leg as a fake army gun. God what a DORK! I pretend to get shot and fall onto a heap of pillows where we recreate the scene from hacksaw ridge where he carries me on his shoulders and instead of saving me from impending doom. He saves me from myself. He's tickling me and it's a childish frendzy of pillow fights and pretend Army soldiers, but it's exactly what I need.

October 27th 2018

Around 11am on a Wednesday afternoon I open my locker to find a note. Signed with a G. Telling me to “meet in the art gala,” of course I gotta go see him. I’m the only person besides his family who’s knows about this whole cancer situation, and I’m good at keeping a secret. He’s waiting in a room full of canvases stacked on plastered walls and I catch a glimpse of him standing there in converse that I vandalised with aquatic life and trees and a giant sun with a smiley face. My only talent is art I guess. And even then it’s not that good. He’s the sporty one even when he only has one leg he’s better than most the kids on the team.  He locks the door behind me and I gulp hard, and does a sign in ASL that I don’t quite catch. He touches my shoulder and presses play on a speaker to play the band oh wonder. It’s funny, we both like the electric feeling and the rain is our song even if it’s depressing as hell, but I can still find joy in it. We’re slow dancing in a dim room undisturbed because he doesn’t have that long left. It’s a weekly occurrence of expensive medicine and chemo that probably won’t work. I place my hand on his waist and we go around in a circular motion that can somehow stop time.

“I’m gonna miss you.” I say looking at his scruffy face. He’s wearing a navy blue button up with white sword fish swimming around the fabric. It’s sweet and simplistic because they’re his favorite animal and Because I love them too. I envelope him into a hug as we turn in soft circles as the song ends, and as the bell rings for us to head to 4th period he kisses my lips for the first time in a long time. I feel a electric shock in my heart as he pulls away.

“I’ll see you later,” he says before heading for the door. Just before putting all of his weight on me and we nearly fall to the floor before he signals his departure. He's Amazing.