❝ Life's only fun if you're a Pogue, Rafe ❞
❝ You're not a Pogue, you taste way too good ❞
𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗
would have predicted
this summer to be full
of gunshots and blood,
since beers and surf
sounded like a great plan...
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California, San Bruno June 30th, 2020 8:23 pm
"Dad, how am I supposed to cook dinner out of a single egg for us two and a bottle of expired coconut milk?" I yelled through the kitchen as my eyes laid on the bottle's expiration date.
My father made his way in the kitchen and I looked at him desperately. "Come on, don't be so hopeless darling, be creative for your last dinner here," he stated calmly, both of his hands on my shoulders.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
He scratched the back of his head and looked away, smiling like he couldn't keep whatever he had kept secret, for himself anymore. His hand trailed down his jean's back-pocket and he pulled two plane tickets out of it, grinning.
"Do you miss mom and Top'?"
I covered my mouth with my hand and after a few seconds, I jumped in his arms, which caused him to leave out a little squeal. He hugged me tight after placing the two tickets on the kitchen counter.
As I pulled away from his comforting embrace, I grabbed the two tickets like somehow they weren't real. I knew I'd go there by the times summer was arriving but definitely not so soon.
Something caught my attention as I read what was written on them, and I looked up at him, confused.
"Why are those two one-way tickets? Are you coming with me this time?" I inquired.
He laughed like my question was stupid but unless I was missing an important clue, I didn't know what was so funny to him. "Sweetheart, you don't get it"
"Yeah, apparently"
"We're moving there, as I had promised you when you were younger," he softly explained. "Now the cardiologist said it was all clear, I don't want to miss a single second of our life as a family"
My eyes filled up with tears, as I recalled remembered his words, back when I was 4 years old and I watched my mother and brother moving away, very far, without me.
My father had promised me one day we'd be reunited again and I'd have my mother to hold me everyday. I always thought he had said that just to comfort me, because I was a diseased baby who needed a lot of reassurance. But my father rarely broke his promises, I should have known better.
"Wait, so we're leaving to the Outer Banks, for good?" I asked, wiping my tears off my wet cheeks.
"Of course, our plane is tomorrow morning at seven, and trust me, your mother is really excited" he replied, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead.
"Thank you dad, thank you so much"
My whole world seemed to lighten up, and I headed out the kitchen before rushing to my room where I packed for hours. Living in San Bruno was alright, but all my friends were in the Outer Banks, so I never really enjoyed being by myself here. I kind of felt left out.
After my parents had learned of my cardiomyopathy when I was 2 years old, they had made all they could to help me recovering, but they didn't have much hope. The doctors and cardiologists had explained them how there were only 2% patients who recovered, not even fully, and how the weekly injections could hurt me even more.
But turned out after 15 years of going to the hospital every week, the cure had shown itself effective. By finding out about my disease early, my parents had saved my life, because I could, to this day, scream to the world that I was healed.
I had always kind of felt privileged that my disease wasn't conspicuous on my face or body, and that I looked completely healthy on the outside, but part of me feared this horrific day would come. I feared waking up weak and pale, with new symptoms or crisis, so to be honest, recovering released a lot of anxiety.
My parents had always made everything they could to make my life easier though. I even got to visit my mother and brother every school break, but a nurse had to home every morning to check up on my state. It was always heartbreaking to say goodbye to everyone, but my friends liked to say I was a Pogue extension in California.
For my last night in California, I didn't sleep a lot, but it was okay. My head was filled with surfboards, beers, the chateau, blunts, keggers, but most of all with Kie, John B, Pope and JJ, who made my life worth living.
They had kept on sending me pictures, calling me, asking after my well-being or even visiting me when they could. All those things reminded me how loved I was, and where I belonged: to the Outer Banks.
