For Every Missing Shade

Entry 20

I woke up to the same disoriented reality I fell asleep to. I checked my phone for messages, but there weren't any. I sat up in my bed, my body oddly sore. What happened yesterday was still a fantasy. A fictional book that I'd never want to read.

I walked downstairs in my pajamas. My parents were sitting at the kitchen counter, a third cup of black coffee sitting on the opposite side of the table. They gave me a look of sympathy. I shrugged back.

"It's okay," my dad said. "And we don't want to smother you. If you want things to go back to normal here, that's exactly what we will do."

"Thanks," I said. "I think I could use some normal."

I sat down to drink my coffee as I heard a knock at the door. My mom started walking but, in hopes of it being Emma, I said I'd answer it.

I opened the door to her fist about to knock again. She looked taken aback by me being there. The bags under her eyes begged her to fall asleep and her hair was a nest of tangles. Her eyes were slightly red and she was still wearing the clothes she wore the day before. I hated it that she still looked beautiful.

"Emma, what are you doing here?" I began.

She fidgeted with a paper in her hands. "I stayed up all night if you couldn't tell by, well, everything about me." She waved her arms up and down her body.

"Here, come in," I said as I stepped to the right of the door. She followed me inside and into the kitchen.

My parents must have heard her because they were already next to each other, standing with sorry looks in their eyes.

My mom spoke up when we entered. "It's so good to have you here, Emma. Can we get you anything to eat or drink?" It looked like she was watching a puppy die.

"No, Ms. Taylor, but thank you for asking."

"Oh, please, Ms. Taylor is what they call me at work. You can call me Susan."

Emma smiled as I opened the door to the basement. "We'll be down here if you need us," I said.

We walked downstairs and sat down on my couch. I toyed with the cracked leather and she unfolded the paper in her hands.

Sorry about them," I said. "Ever since I told my parents, they've been a non-stop pity party."

"Oh please. This is a cold slap in the face compared to what my parents are doing. It's insane. But I am here for a different reason."

"What's up?"

She turned around the paper and on it was a list. I quickly glanced over it.

"So the doctor said that I had, more or less, a month or two left. She said that I could get chemotherapy for it to help me live a bit longer but cancer has spread too far for much else. And, because of the circumstances, the chemo would be very intense."

"Are you going to do it?"

"Well long story short, no. It would knock almost all ability out of me and I wouldn't be able to do half of the things on this list."

I looked at the list again. "So this is a bucket list."

"Kind of. The doctor said I had probably twenty to thirty days until cancer started making damn sure I was bedridden. So, this is everything I want to do before then."

I took a look at the list. It only had fifteen things on it. Fifteen.

1. Go on a Camping trip

2. Go Skydiving

3. Go to the mountains

4. Feel like I'm tiny