"Why are you mad?" My question came out in parts, heavy almost, as I worked on slowing my heart rate, which seem to have sky rocketed after whatever that was that we just did.
With heated eyes his hands pressed me closer to him "Mad about how I sho...
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DR. WINTON'S OFFICE was colorful. The office walls were painted a deep blue, the desk was a glossy platinum white and the filing cabinet to the left of the door was army green with hand stuck childish stickers. Its main light source is only one floor-to-ceiling window, which faced the main road.
"How long?" My mother asked as unshed tears glazed her eyes.
"I can't say for certain." Dr. Winton turned his sympathetic gaze to focus soulfully on me.
"But our best guess is a month. That could mean a little less or a little more."
My mother let out a strangled sob, her hands flying up to cover her teary eyes.
My father, who's sitting to the right of me, was better at hiding his emotions. Most men are.
I was like him in some ways. I rarely cry and I'd rather throw a softball around with him than throw cash on a counter in a designer shop.
But when Dr. Winton threw out how long I had left into our weekly checkup, I felt my heart squeeze and halt to a stop.
A lump formed in my throat and I didn't try to swallow it down. I guess at one point we knew this was coming.
My eyes fled to the window. There's so much I want to do. So much I need to do. Now that my life has an expiration date...
"I see you'll be turning eighteen on the 29th of July." Dr. Winton began, flipping through my records and notes he's kept since I was born. "I must admit I'm quite surprised with your resilience River."
"Surprised?" Mum questioned, her voice shaking.
He nods. "About 65% of babies born with critical CHD are expected to survive to eighteen years of age. Whereas 75% are expected to survive to only one year of age."
My father wraps his arm around me and pulls me into him. His hand cupping my face as he holds me close to his chest. I feel him shaking.
He's not crying just yet, he'll do it alone in a bathroom or out of sight where no one will see him crumbling. I thread my fingers through his calloused ones, comforting him but also myself.
"I'm very sorry," Dr. Winton said as he got up from his desk to come around to us. My parents and I stood up, our appointment coming to an end.
Dr. Winton pulled me into a hug, his embrace strong.
He's been my cardiologist since I was born with this heart defect and he's been an amazing one too. "You've always been my favorite patient."
But I bet he's said that to his every dying patient.
"And the pills?" My father asks, referring back to my medication that's to lower blood pressure and control my heart rate.
"Keep taking them, it'll help you get through the month easier and hopefully decrease the intensity of the symptoms. We'll make a few appointments, but not as regularly, we can't have you spending what's left with an old bat like me."
He gave me a small smile. "Now get out there and be a teenager. Do everything you want to do."
As we headed out the door he called out. "Don't be afraid to call me if even the slightest of things change with your heart or symptoms."
The drive home started off quiet, Mum and Dad sat in the front and I was left with my thoughts in the back.
One month.
Thirty-One days.
Seven hundred and forty-four hours.
Forty-four thousand, six hundred and forty minutes.
Two million six hundred seventy-eight thousand four hundred seconds.
How much can I do in that time? Will I even make it to my birthday? Or will I go before then?
"Rillipop?" My dad repeated, glancing at me through the rearview mirror.
I look up at the sound of his nickname for me, its crazy mix of lollipop and River bringing a small smile to my face.
"Sorry, I zoned out."
Mum twists around in the front passenger's seat to look back at me. "We asked what you think the new neighbors will be like?"
My eyebrows crease together. "New neighbors?"
"Yeah, real estate finally sold the house next door to ours last week." Dad's ocean blue eyes meet mine.
I mostly got my mum's features; black hair, fair skin, perfect cheekbones. But I was lucky enough to get my dad's smile and his eyes. I love the color of his eyes, the way they're lighter than any blue. Mum's are a beautiful green, but I still prefer my dads.
"Well, my bets on a Canadian hippie with a pet goat called Nelly," Dad grins, chuckling to himself.
Mum laughs. "You are ridiculous."
The mood is lighter now, with fewer tears. I don't want to imagine what the mood will be like after the month is up.
We've always been the type of family to enjoy what's happening now and the time left, not focus too much on the future.
We turn into our street. Our neighborhood is nice, it always has been. Lucious trees and gardens bloom sweetly, there's even a cute little playground further down. Another plus is there are no rundown houses, rotting with creepy ghost stories. I hate creepy things.
"Hey look," Dad points out. "Here they are now."
An orange and grey moving van is parked outside the recently sold two-story house. Workers in uniforms identical to the colors of the van struggle to carry a large couch inside.
We pull into our drive way. "See! That looks exactly like a couch a Candian hippie would have!" Dad exclaims, joking slightly as he hops out of the car.
Mum and I roll our eyes at him. "Shut up and just go inside," She gives him a playful push.
Fletcher, our brown and white border collie barks in excitement when he sees us walking through the front door.
"Hey boy!" I say, scratching his fur. He jumps up, causing me to topple over onto my backside. I feel my chest tighten, and it takes me a moment to re-catch my breath -one of the symptoms of CHD that I have to consistently deal with.
Dad heads upstairs to do something while Mum places her handbag on the kitchen islander. "Are your ankles still swollen?"
I glance down past Fletcher's fur. "Not as much," I shake my head.
Along with shortness of breath, I also get a lot of swelling. But the medication helps. "We need another prescription, I forgot to ask Dr. Winton for more pills, I took the last ones this morning."
"Okay, I'll head back out, and I might as well get some groceries too. Would you like to come?"
"Toby and Tiana said they'd come over once we got back."
Toby and Tiana are my best friends. They're the only people at school who know about my CHD, along with the teachers.
Honestly it's never been that big of a deal for the other students to know, I don't want to be seen as that sick and dying girl plus if they mean nothing to me, it's none of their business.
Mum headed over to the door. "Have fun then, text me if you want anything."
A/N: This book is inspired by a film I recently watched, Will Smith stars in it and it's called Seven Pounds.
My science teacher recommended it, and she said "I'm telling you now, you will for sure need tissues" but, me being me, I didn't believe I'd need them cause I don't cry in movies but how wrong I was, LITERALLY SO GOOD BUT THE ENDING 😭😭
