Kjrsten waves me back
and we walk
to her office.
"Your hobble
is considerably
better,"
She comments.
"Pain meds."
I tell her
with a
light grin.
She claps her
hands together,
following me
into her
office
and closing
the door.
"You are looking
so much
better
in general!"
She wiggles
in her
chair.
"I'm so
excited!"
She asks me
how the
thoughts about
death have
been going.
I suddenly
realize
I haven't
thought about it
in weeks.
I've been
far too busy with
suffering and
venomous
step-sisters
and whatnot.
Kjrsten's face
lights up
with this news.
"Oh, Emma.
I told you
it would
get better."
She seems to think
this is a time for
celebration.
I gesture to the
cannula,
in case she's
forgotten.
Kjrsten waves
it away,
as if it
doesn't matter that
I am
in capable
of breathing
on my own
anymore.
Carrying around
the oxygen tank
is even more
obnoxious
than suffocating,
but better for my
longevity.
And it's
noisy.
Mom and Jeff
didn't want to spend
money we don't have
on a quiet
machine
so I'm not
distracting
people in school.
"You're always so
negative,"
She tells me.
"Well, that would be
because
I'm dying,"
I remind
us both.
Kjrsten's
excitement melts
into stern
solemnity.
"There are stages
of Emphysema,
yeah?"
"Yeah."
Where is
she going
with this?
"The last update
in your file
was...?"
"GOLD 3 if it's
updated correctly in
your system,"
I say.
Kjrsten's fingers
whiz across
the keyboard on
her laptop.
I wait
for her
to resurface
from her
info. dive,
silently judging
how boring
her office looks
because all she has
up are
her degrees and
an enlarged
photo of
a beach.
"Tell me I'm wrong,
but stage four
is marked as
'end-stage.'"
"That's true, but-"
"Emma...
you're not
dying."
YOU ARE READING
Remember; You Have the Universe
Teen FictionCover by kyromaniak Everyone wants to be different. I just want to be like everybody else. ---- Seventeen-year-old chronically ill Emma has traded dreams of flying into space for, "Support Therapy," aka, "The Dying Kids Group," and Student Council...
