Red

Nosebleeds and Sharpie Markers

Zona

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Light from the tv screams through the darkness of the living room. It is currently 5:07 on a Friday in Ohio and I am watching my favorite movie of all time: Ferris Bueller's Day Off. What Ferris says here is my favorite quote from the movie because he speaks the truth. He's saying that everyone should live in the moment or what this generation refers to as "YOLO". No one really knows exactly when their life will end but I have a pretty good idea of when mine will.

My name is Arizona and I have stage III chronic lymphocytic leukemia. This basically means my circulatory system sucks. I have too many lymphocytes and not enough red blood cells flowing through my veins. I've gone through some stages of this cancer. First there was stage 0, then stage I, and stage II. I'm just waiting for a final level up.

The front door opens and my mother's face appears. I lift my head from the couch with a yawn and pull Alana closer to me. Alana is my six-year-old sister who has down syndrome. She may be different, but she means the world to me. We ignore each other's differences.

"Mama!" Alana runs to the door.

"Hey Zona," she calls, a bag on one arm and Alana in the other. The bag is probably full of canvases. Each week she paints one with an inspritational quote and hangs it in my room.

"Hi Mama." I feel sick and tired and I want to lay down, but I won't let her see me in such a vulnerable state. She's constantly busy with my appointments and taking care of Alana. I don't want her to feel like she's loosing a daughter. Then again, she barely has one.

"You okay, honey?" Mama sits with me on the couch. Alana begins dancing around the living room.

"I'm just grand." Alana moves with little finesse in the vibrant light of the tv.

"Are you watching that movie again?"

"Of course!" I smile. "What would my typical Friday night be withought Ferris Bueller?"

She grins and folds me into her arms and we watch the tv. Alana falls to the ground and laughs. Her laugh is beautiful. For a moment, I get lost in the laugh and forget about problems that this world and I share. But then, she looks at me and frowns. Alana covers her eyes.

"Blood." She points at me. I pull myself out of the embrace of my mother with sudden discomfort.

"You okay?" Mama leaps from the couch to find a light switch. The room suddenly illuminates and I notice my blood stains on her t-shirt. I touch my face and hold my hand out. More blood.

"It's alright, Mama. It's just a nosebleed." I reassure her and she brings a box of tissues. She's out of breath and she begins her usual nervous shaking.

"It's just a typical Friday night," I say.

Canvases

It's a chilly morning and I'm still alive. I pull a calendar out from underneath my bed and cross out yesterday's date in a bright red sharpie marker. It's a ritual I perform each morning when I wake up. If I wake up.

The sun streams through my window and I breath in the cool air circulating my pink bedroom. My mother always asks if I would like to give my room a "makeover". I always decline because this particular pink reminds me of innocence and times that were carefree. I also didn't want to waste the money.

I awake to a snoring Alana. She has decided to sleep with me. I kiss her rosy cheeks and my mother stands in the doorway.

"You ready, baby girl?"