The Chronicles of You ✔

{ 2.1 }

       

        All of a sudden, you started to get worse again. You were back in the hospital, and I was finishing up the school year, while still visiting you after school everyday.

      That one teacher was still failing me, which was frustrating because all my other teachers understood what was going on. One day, I came to math class early, which is the class that my teacher who seemed to understand everything teaches. The teacher who was failing me was in the classroom talking to her, so I waited outside the door until the bell rang, not wanting to intrude. I could hear the conversation a little; they appeared to be arguing over something. And then I heard my name, and I realized what they were talking about. "I don't understand why you're failing that poor girl," the one teacher said. The other replied, "If she cared enough about her grades, she would at least do a little work," to which the good teacher shot back, "When you care about someone, and they're sick like that, nothing else matters." The bell rang after that, so I didn't get to hear the mean teacher's response. I walked into the classroom and sat down at my seat, pretending not to notice the argument in progress.

        That was easier said than done, because the good teacher suddenly snapped loudly, "Just have a heart, her boyfriend is dying for God's sake!"

        No one had ever bluntly spoken about your condition like that, and it shattered my heart to think of losing you. Suddenly I couldn't hold back my tears, and I ran out of the classroom, through the people coming in the door. I saw your brother among them, blurred by my tears. He literally dropped all of his books in the floor and ran after me, calling my name. I stopped down the hallway a little, leaned against the wall, and fell to the ground with my knees to my chest. Your brother sat down beside me, and wrapped an around me. I was sobbing by then, and he just rubbed my back and held me in a comforting embrace without saying a word. Once I calmed down, he started to whisper in my ear that it would be okay, that everything would work out in the end.

        And maybe he was right. Maybe you have to look ahead to the ending; maybe there's a light at the end of the tunnel.

        But back then, I thought the only light at the end of the tunnel for me would just be a train going in the wrong direction.