Dying Wish

by Margaret McHeyzer

“Miss Lauren,” I say taking over. “Please, take a seat.” I gesture to the chair a few feet away.

  Her face falters with worry. She sits and looks around the room again. “What’s going on, Alice?”

  “Um.” My voice cracks as I try to hold in the tears. “I have something to tell you.” Elijah’s hand squeezes mine. “I won’t be returning to ballet.”

  Miss Lauren blinks a few times and she pulls her shoulders back. “Why?” she asks in a pissed-off tone. “Have you been approached by another school? Another teacher?” her words are angry.

  “Nothing like that.” I try and muster a smile, but the tears falling defy the fakeness of the smile. “I won’t be . . .” I clear my throat. There’s no easy way for me to her. “I only have months to live.”

  Miss Lauren gasps, and covers her gaping mouth with her hand. “What?” she says in a small voice. “What are you talking about, Alice?”

  “I . . . ah . . . whoa, I didn’t realize how hard this was going to be to tell you.”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” Dad says.

  My entire body is shaking and I can’t help the thumping of my heart bouncing around in my chest. “I have cancer. Stage four. One at the back of my eye.” I point to my eye. “And one at the top of my spinal column.” I then rub the area at the back of my head. “The doctor has given me only four or five months. There are a lot of symptoms and things my body may go through, one of which is pins and needles in my feet and hands. Which means, I may end up losing my mobility.”

  “Oh my God.” Tears fall from her eyes, and her black mascara melts down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “There’s nothing you can say. And there’s nothing you can do either. It is what it is, Miss Lauren. But please know this.” I let go of Elijah’s hand, and scoot forward on the sofa so I’m close to Miss Lauren. I grab a hold of her hands and clasp them tightly in mine. “You are the best ballet teacher I’ve ever known. You work your students hard, and you push us to give you our absolute best. Please know, I have loved every single moment of dancing for you.”

  Miss Lauren is crying, and as I sneak a look sideways, so is Becky. “I’m in a state of shock.” She shakes her head and takes a tissue out of her purse to wipe at her nose. “You are by far, my proudest accomplishment, Alice. You gave me a reason to wake up every day, to teach you.”

  What? “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “I suffer from depression and anxiety. And when I started teaching you I saw something in the way you move. You dragged me out of that depression, you pushed me to be the absolute best I could be, because you deserve to have the absolute best. Thank you, Alice. Thank you for being the student you are, the young lady you are and for helping me through one of the most difficult times in my life. For that, I’ll never be able to thank you. But if there’s anything at all I can do for you, you call me.” She grasps my hands and tightens them in her grip. “Anything.” She lets go, and throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly. “Thank you for being you.” She leans down and kisses my forehead.

  I swallow back the tears, and try to control my breathing so I’m not a blubbering mess. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “I should go now.” She straightens, wipes the tears away and stands to leave. She offers me something I’ve barely ever seen. A smile. She turns and walks away, and I lose the control I was barely holding onto.

  This is so real to me, now. I’ll never dance again.

  “It’s okay,” Dad says as he brings me in for a hug.

  “I love you so much, Alley-cat.” Becky throws her arms around me too. But I can’t stop the sobbing.

  “I’m just going out for some air,” Elijah says as his voice cracks. Obviously, he doesn’t want me to see him like this, which may make me feel bad. I love him for being so considerate of me.

  “You okay?” Becky asks as she moves so she’s sitting close to me.

  I nod my head and smile. I pull myself together and wipe the tears away with the back of my hand. “It had to be said, and I didn’t want to tell her any other way. She needed to know.”

  A good span of time passes before Elijah comes back into the family room. He too has gathered himself and wears a beautiful smile for me. “Do you want to go to the movies?” he asks me, then turns to Becky silently asking her.

  “Actually, today I’d like to go roller-skating.”

  “Alice, do you think that’s a wise idea? Besides, you don’t know how to roller-skate,” Mom says in a concerned voice.

  I stand and make my way over to her. I grasp her hands in mine and look into her eyes. “I want to do things with these few months we have left. I want to experience everything I can. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  Her shoulders lose the tension they were holding. She leans in and kisses me, then nods her head. “You’re right.”

  “Now, who has roller-skates?” I ask as I turn to look at my family. Becky and Elijah are my family along with my parents.

  “Hell no,” Becky voices quite vocally.

  “I’ll take you to the store to buy some.” Dad’s already on his feet and reaching for his car keys.

  “You take the kids. I’ll stay here and sort out all these vegetables.” Mom looks behind her to the kitchen.

  “Mr. B,” Becky says as she moves toward him, looking over her shoulder at me. She whispers something in his ear, and by her shame-filled face I think she’s probably telling him she has no money for skates.

  “You’re part of this family, Becky. Don’t worry about it. You too, Elijah. Let’s go.” We all head out, get in Dad’s car and head to the store to buy skates.

  As I sit in the front seat, with the window down and the wind in my hair, I close my eyes and feel the sun beaming its spectacular rays on my face.

  It’s then I decide that these next few months aren’t going to stop me from experiencing life. I have a lifetime I need to pack into months. A lump rises to the back of my throat when I think about the simple things I’m going to miss out on. I look over my shoulder at Elijah, and think about all the times I’m going to miss with him.

  He catches sight of me and gives me a smile. My eyes keep hold of his, I want to crawl onto the back seat and curl up in his lap. My heart swells with love for him. I haven’t told him yet, because I don’t want him to tell me he loves me just because I’m dying.

  Some may think I’ve jumped in with both feet and fallen for him, and maybe I have. The only man’s love I’ll ever know is Elijah’s. And I’m more than okay with that, because he’s the best man I know, apart from Dad.

  I want Elijah to be my first and only. To make love to me, and to love me.

  “Are you ready?” Mom asks from the front porch.

  I tighten the straps of my roller skates and give Mom a nod. “I’m ready. Are you guys?” I ask Becky and Elijah.

  Both have their skates on, and are holding onto the white fence in front of my home. “Yeah,” they both echo in unison.

  “I swear if I fall, you’ve got a lot to answer for.” Becky points toward me.

  “Come on, Crest. You’re a big girl, just suck it up,” Elijah teases Becky.

  Becky’s hanging on the fence and turns to look at Elijah. Her mouth open as she shuffles closer to him. “Crest?” she asks as she scrunches her eyebrows at him.

  “And you call yourself a musician. You should be ashamed of yourself. Gibson Crest.”

  “Oh my God, you know what a Gibson Crest is?” she asks, her voice a high-pitched squeal.

  “Seriously?” he tilts his head sideways and gives her a small snicker. “I so know what a Gibson Crest is.”

  These two are talking in tongues. “What the hell is this Gibson thing you’re both squealing like school girls over?” I yell at them as I stand and stumble—albeit slowly—toward them.

  Both turn to look at me with gaping mouths. “It’s a guitar. Like an incredibly rare guitar. Oh my God, a Gibson Crest! I swear I would do anything to see one, let alone touch one.”
Becky’s body shivers and she yelps with excitement.

  “A guitar?” I ask them both, incredulous.

  “You’re not serious, Alice Brackman. Not serious at all! Take that back,” Becky shouts at me. “Take it back right now.”

  I throw my hands up in surrender and scuffle backward away from the crazy woman. “Ohhh, she’s gone and done it now,” Elijah mutters under his breath.

  “I don’t get it, it’s just a guitar.”

  “It’s not just a guitar, princess. It’s a work of art. It’s a guitar so rare because it was odd. And there wasn’t much of a market for it when it was made back in the late sixties,” Elijah says almost like he’s reading it directly from Google.

  “Just to touch one.” Becky shivers. “Look.” She points to her arms. “Goosebumps. Freaking goosebumps. Anyway, how do you know what a Gibson Crest is?” she asks Elijah.

  I stay back a few feet from them, and watch as they talk about their common love of music. It sends a smile straight to my face, and to my heart. I love seeing how they are with each other. It gives me hope to know they’ll fulfill their promises to me and they’ll actually get on.

  “Let’s go,” I say a few seconds after they discover how much they have in common.

  I’m not the jealous girlfriend. I’m the opposite, I’m the one who loves them and wants them to find their happiness.

  Roller-skating was so much fun. We fell more often than we were on our feet. But it was wonderful—normal. Becky had band practice so she left a couple of hours ago. Elijah stayed for dinner, but left shortly after because he said he had to do some work at his Dad’s shop.

  I’ve had a shower and I’m completely exhausted so I’m lying on my bed trying to not fall asleep. There’s a knock on my door and Mom comes in carrying a glass with a green drink in it.

  “I made you something to drink.” Mom holds out the glass and I crinkle my nose at the sight of the deep green slush.

  “What is it?” I ask skeptical.

  “You didn’t have much dinner, Alice. I want you to try and have this. I got the recipe online, it has a bunch of superfoods in it. I also put some honey in it because when I tasted it I didn’t like it, so I knew you wouldn’t. But it tastes quite nice now. It’s a smoothie.” She edges the glass even closer.

  This will give my Mom a sense of relief, of fighting my cancer head on. This is her way of doing the best she can do. “Thanks.” I take the glass and automatically sniff it.

  It doesn’t smell bad at all. I won’t ask what’s in it, because she’s likely to say something revolting. I sip some, and find it tastes really nice. So I continue to sip on it as I pat the bed beside me so Mom can sit. “I want to talk to you about something,” I say.

  “See? It tastes okay, right?” I nod my head. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

  “Um.” This is so embarrassing. “Mom.” I drink some more of the smoothie, the taste forgotten as I try and gather the words I need to say.

  “Alice.” She uses the same tone as I’m using with her.

  “I ahh, um, I um. Whoa, I never thought this was going to be so difficult to say.” My stomach flip-flops and my hands begin to sweat.

  “Spit it out.”

  Swallowing, I take a few seconds to pull myself together. Be courageous, Alice. “Mom, I don’t want to die a virgin.” Shit, how humiliating. “I want to have sex before . . .” Crap, I’m going to have to say it. “Before I die.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation with you for at least another year or so. Your father would like you to be forty before you lose your virginity.” She chuckles nervously. “However, I know we don’t have time on our side.” She stops talking and swallows. “And I totally understand what you’re asking.” She turns her head slightly away from me, and wipes under her eye. She lets out a steady breath, then turns back to me. “I want you to experience the love only a partner can share with you. And I want you to truly understand how magical it can be.” She smiles.

  “What about Dad?”

  “Leave your father to me.” She winks at me. “He’ll learn to understand.”

  My mother is truly a stunning woman. She’s not one of those moms who colors her hair, or packs on the make-up to make herself look younger. She doesn’t even get any type of cosmetic surgery. She’s simply natural and timeless. A perfect example of sheer elegance. My mother can be wearing jeans and a t-shirt, or an evening gown, and people will always tell her how breathtaking she is. My Mom is the most real person I know.

  “Thank you.” I lean over and place the half full glass on my bedside table. Then I move to hug Mom. “Thank you,” I whisper again as I place a light kiss on her cheek.

  When I pull away, Mom pointedly looks at the glass. “Finished?”

  I’m not really hungry. I haven’t been for a while now. I nod my head and lay back down, sinking into my bed. Mom takes the glass and leaves.

  I don’t even hear her in the kitchen before my eyes have closed. My brain though, it’s fighting the heaviness my body feels. I bring both my hands up and grip them together in front of my face. “This is going to be hard for everyone,” I whisper, hoping my words will be heard. “I know you must get millions of prayers from people every day.” Small tears leak out of my eyes. “All I want, is for you to help them when it’s my time to leave. Please, don’t let them hurt for too long, don’t let them suffer with sadness.”

  Breathing in long and languid, my brain catches up to my body. I hope my prayers will be answered.

  Opening my eyes, I find the sun is beaming into my room. I take a breath and look around, committing everything to memory. Hopefully I won’t lose my sight before I die, because I want to be able to look at each thing and remember its beauty.

  I’ve been strangely calm about my death, it’s almost as if I’m at peace with it.

  Pulling the blanket up under my chin, I shiver beneath the covers.

  I wonder what it’s like to die. Does it hurt? Or will I simply close my eyes and never wake up again? I really hope it’s not too bad, because I can’t have my parents see me struggling with pain. It’s hard enough they’re going to lose me, but to see me suffering will certainly send them over the edge.

  “No matter how bad it gets, you have to control it,” I whisper to myself. Making a silent pact with myself. It’s not fair to them to have to see me in pain and then to lose me. Be courageous.

  “You awake?” Mom asks when she pokes her head into my room.

  “Yeah.” I stretch as I turn to look at her.

  “I’ll make you a smoothie.”

  Great. “Thank you.” I smile.

  Mom leaves and I throw the covers back on my bed to slide out. Today my right hand is numb. I keep making a fist with it, hoping the numbness recedes quickly. But even the constant movement hasn’t brought it back to life yet. Heading to the bathroom, I keep doing the exercise, hoping to get rid of the pins and needles. These small things are a constant reminder of my body failing me.

  As I slowly walk toward the kitchen, I keep fisting my hand, hoping to get the feeling back soon. “Morning,” I announce to my parents.

  Mom looks over her shoulder at me and notices what I’m doing, then her eyes meet Dad’s. “Are you okay?” Dad’s up and out of his chair within seconds.

  Looking down at my hand, I continue to make a fist and shake it out. “My hand has gone numb.” I look up to see the fear in their eyes. The edges of Mom’s mouth drops, and Dad’s shoulders slightly droop. They know, this is the beginning of the end for me. “But I’m okay,” I quickly add. “What kind of smoothie is on offer for breakfast today?” I try to perk up, and change the mood.

  “Um . . .” Mom clears her throat, then turns and looks at the blender. “It’s kale and berries with some chia seeds.” She starts the blender and the loud noise fills the kitchen. Mom’s shoulders are shaking, and I know the noise of the blender is masking her soft weeping.

  This is real. So real it hurts them. And I ha
te how much I’m tearing them apart.

  By the time Mom finishes blending my smoothie, which seemed to take a while, I know she’s pulled herself together. But when she turns around, her red-rimmed eyes are a definite giveaway of the sorrow deep inside her heart.

  “What’s on the agenda for today?” Dad goes over to Mom and hugs her.

  “How’s it taste?” Mom waits for the verdict.

  There’s a funky taste in it, I’m fairly sure it’s the kale. I cringe when I swallow the first mouthful. Mom and Dad both laugh at me. “That bad?” Dad asks, making a funny face.

  “It’s good.” For the trash.

  “It’s not good. Here, give it back and I’ll add some more honey into it.” Mum takes it before I can protest. Thank God. Really, I’m not sure I could stomach that. She adds honey, re-blends it, and passes it back to me. Please let it be nicer. I take a sip, and I’m pleasantly surprised how much of a difference the honey makes.

  “It’s good, now.”

  “Right, so what’s . . .” Dad’s interrupted by our front door opening. He moves and looks to see who’s waltzed in. “Becky . . . And Elijah. Have you two forgotten how to knock?” he asks with lifted eyebrows.

  “You said we could come in,” Elijah protests in a horrified voice. “Sorry, Mr. B. Um . . . come on, Becky, let’s go back out and knock.” Elijah’s making me laugh because I can tell Dad’s messing with him.

  But Dad lets Elijah and Becky go back out, then knock on the door. Dad yells out, “Come in,” and they re-enter.

  “Leave the kids alone,” Mom snaps at Dad, but her face isn’t saying she’s angry. The smile on her face is saying she knows Dad’s playing.

  Elijah and Becky both enter the kitchen, their faces pink with embarrassment. “Why are you two knocking? I thought I told you to come in,” Dad says, shaking his head. “Kids these days, they don’t listen.”

  Elijah lets out a breath while his hand flies to his chest. “I swear, I almost had a panic attack, Mr. B.”

  “Just playing with ya, son.” He shoves Elijah’s shoulder and then pokes Becky in the side.