Catcher in the Rye meets The Silver Linings Playbook in this coming of age tale.
Life is complicated for nineteen-year-old Miles Henderson. He was supposed to go to community college, graduate, and leave his crime polluted community for good.
But...
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Taking a deep breath, I shift my body back and forth. My brown curls danced past my tensed eyes as I struggle to describe Selina to my interested father.
Black and gray hairs weave together to make Dad appear younger. His nose is slanted, his skin is light caramel and his white hospital gown reached down to his emaciated legs.
Patients craned their necks to watch Ronald Reagan's speech on television. Light blue or white nightgowns and wheelchairs quivered on the icy blue floors as nurses and doctors work around the clock.
A long tube pierced Dad's left arm as the pale liquid flowed from his IV. I catch sight of the discomfort sitting on Dad's worn face and asked him what was wrong.
"Hey, are you sleeping okay?" I ask, feeling uneasy.
Puzzled by my attitude, Dad nods his head very slowly.
"I am fine, Miles," he answers back. "What's going on, kid?"
My older brother studies Dad's stagnant breathing as he places his hand on his wrinkled forehead.
"Jesus, Dad," he mutters. "You're burning up."
Quickly, Jesse sits on the pastel green chair close to Dad's hospital bed behind the beeping heart monitor.
Nervous, I bombarded Dad with millions of questions until he attempts to console us.
That no matter what happens, he would always love us. Unfortunately, his warm smile couldn't wipe the fear from our faces.
"How many months do you have?" Jesse inquired hastily.
"Is the chemo working?" I blurted.
After a few bad coughs, Dad only shrugs his shoulders. "To be honest, I don't know."
Chewing my bottom lip, I picked off the lint from my dreary blue hoodie. Long, brown khaki pants protected my legs from the cold gust of wind.
Dark gray loafers were caked in thick, black mud but at least I wiped them before I got inside the hospital.
Even though I wanted to tell Dad about my shy crush on Selina, I couldn't stop worrying about his lung cancer taking away his freedom.
I mean, what if the medicine isn't working?
What if Dad is stuck living in this shitty clinic for the rest of his life?
Reaching for his hand, I mutter, "I wish you got better."
He nods in silence, clinging onto my hand.
"Yeah," he mumbled softly. "Me too."
I wipe the tears away from my eyes. "I am just. . . really glad that you are okay."
Wrinkles begin to disappear like magic as Dad laughed until the tumor in his lungs forced him to stop.
Jesse checks his vitals while I scanned across the room for a doctor or nurse. However, Dad stopped us from fearing the worse.
