SkaterGirl

Chapter Four

I sent a text to the boys, telling them I couldn't meet with them for a couple of days. That my dad really needed me and that I would see them when I could. And I told them to not come by my house so my dad could get the rest he needed. They said they understood and hoped the best.

I didn't tell them about his cancer or that we were at the hospital. They didn't need to be burdened by my problems. I desperately wished I had my mom with me. She was an angle. She made my dad happy, made me happy. But she passed when I was ten in this same hospital.

She hadn't gotten sick. She had been shot and she was rushed here for care. But she obviously didn't make it and so my memories of her are slightly vague. The only memory that is clear that I have of her, was one of the last times I spent with her.

She had taken me to McDonalds (now you know why that's mine and the boys' place, because I declared it when we became friends) and we went into the play place section. I was in the ball pit and it was so much fun.

"Abby, what are you doin?" She smiled at me.

"In the ball pit!" I smiled.

"Did you eat all your food?" She asked.

"Yes!" I nodded.

"Really? Because I know your drank all your drink, but I still see some chicken nuggets and fries on your plate," she said.

"Those are yours!" I said.

"No, I don't think so," she laughed. "Here, eat these two more nuggets."

"Okay," I said and I finished my food.

She was the reason I'd eat. Because she was the only one who cared. And after she passed away, it had taken seven more years before someone cared. And that someone were my boys. I'd just gotten so used to not eating, I didn't want to anymore. So yes, I met the boys when I was fifteen.

"Abigail," the doctor came into the room. "How is he?"

"Good, I guess. He's resting," I said.

"I know this must be hard for you. And if there's any way we could erase it, we would. But we just have to observe him for now. Since he's drank for so long and he's refusing treatment," she said.

"Yeah, thanks for telling me things I already know," I snapped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude."

"It's fine. I'll check back in later. Why don't you get something to eat while he's resting or something? Or you get some rest?" She asked.

I shook my head. "I'm good. Thanks though."

"Are you thirsty?" She asked.

"Look, I don't have money," I told her.

"The cafeteria food is free," she said.

"Well, vending machines aren't and I just want a water," I said.

"I'll be back," she said.

I looked at my sleeping dad and thought of the old him. The dad that would hug me every night. The dad that held me when I cried. The dad that told me that Mom would be alright. The door opened again and the doctor was back with a bottled water.

"Here you go," she said.

"Thanks," I said.

I opened the water and sipped it so it would last.

"Abigail, do you mind if we had a chat outside?" She asked.

"I already know what you're gonna say," I said. "This happens every time I come to the doctor. They ask if I've been eating, if I'm depressed, and then give me pills that I just flush down the drain when I get home. I just want this to be about my dad. Not me. I don't need any help or pills or therapists. I'm fine."