When I Die [Wattys 2016]

Chapter 35: Letting Go

I still went to scans twice a week. My mom and I traveled back and forth for every appointment. We had to go into Boulder for the appointments and it was about a forty minute drive. We didn't mind, in fact, it gave us good time together.
This week, to my surprise, my dad insisted on coming along. We talked a bit less than mom and I normally did on our drives, but it wasn't tense. I hobbled into the hospital, my hip joint popping like it had been for a few days. I was sure it wasn't good, but I was afraid to know. I'd put off asking about it until my scheduled appointment.
The scans this week weren't good, just like every other week, it was confirmed once again that I was not going to see any improvement. It got a bit exhausting just to hear this news over and over. Once I stopped being hopeful and started being realistic, it hurt less.
There was talk about trials, experiments that we could take part in that might extend the time I had left. I'd told them no. I was sure of my decision. I couldn't gamble away my precious borrowed time. The doctor had nodded. They scanned my leg and hip and said I'd get the results at the next scan.
After the appointment, my dad stayed behind with the Doctor. As I was walking away down the hall, I looked back and saw the looks on both their faces, one which marked a difficult conversation. I knew what he'd needed to ask. My dad was a very meticulous man. He liked to know the plan. He liked to have a play-by-play. He relished in statistics and odds and numbers, the concrete. My mom oftentimes preferred things like hope and faith and prayer. She relied on asking me how I was feeling. She took a good day as a good sign. It was her blissful ignorance. She preferred to pretend a bit. Their stark opposition to one another came to light in situations like mine. Usually things were okay, we could avoid talking about how different they were. I wondered how two people so different ended up together anyway.
And if they stayed together, how did they manage to stay happy?
As I looked down the corridor at my dad, I tried to decide which of them I was more like. Did I want to know what he knew? Did I want to act like nothing happened like her?
My mom wrapped an arm around me and squeezed.
"Let's get some lunch, huh?"
I nodded.
We'd pushed the talk of experiments to the backs of our minds. My dad decided on a sort-of nice chain restaurant.
We talked about everything we could think of except for what my dad now knew. I decided that when I got him alone, I would ask him. I need to know.

Halfway through lunch, my mom excused herself to the restroom and I caught him alone.

"How much time?" I blurted, as soon as she was out of earshot.
He didn't look up from buttering his bread, but he didn't say anything at first.
He sighed deeply and then met my eyes with his, putting down his utensils.
"Six months to a year," he said.
He looked up at me.
"I'm sorry, son."
I appreciated him being honest and blunt with me. His words hit me directly in the chest. I'd never put a time-frame on it like that. I was just going to live until I died. I knew that wasn't a good plan, all along I'd known that one day I'd need to know. I didn't expect it to ever hit me like this.
"Okay." I shook my head, recollecting myself. "It's okay." I choked out.
I wasn't sure if I expected him to tell me the first time I asked, and truthfully, I wasn't sure if it was okay. I mean, it was probably anything but okay. There was nothing I could do about it. Now, I could plan. I could make decisions. I would know how much time I was working with.
"Everything okay?" My mom returned to the table. We broke our stare and tried our best to pretend nothing happened.
"Fine," I said.
"Everything's perfect," he said.
She smiled, "Perfect."

When I got home that evening, I was tired. My knee popped a bit more than usual. My hip locked in a weird way as I walked. I didn't know why I felt so off, I'd been so okay. I headed upstairs past Sam, who was lounging on the couch.
I told my mom I was feeling tired and wanted to rest. Her and my dad had made plans that evening to go to a birthday party for a friend. They needed this. They headed out the door after kissing my head. Aaron and Lara were visiting Lara's parents for the evening, and they'd taken Hattie with them as a favor to my parents. Sam had band practice in a bit. It'd been so long since they'd left me alone. I was glad to be able to rest without people panicking over me.
I called Reid to invite him over.
"Reid," I groaned, "I'm dying."
He chuckled on the other end.
"Right now?"
"Oh my god, shut up. I'm dying of boredom you jackass," I rolled my eyes.
He sounded amused with himself.
"Sorry, I had to. Choose better words."
"Noted. Wanna come over?"
Within twenty minutes, Reid and I were playing xbox on the floor of my living room.
We played in silence for a while. I was too tired for talking. I didn't want to.
Reid had other plans.
He paused the game mid-battle.
"How did your appointment go?" He asked.
I looked over at him and shrugged.
"It's the same as always," I replied.
"What does that mean, though? I mean, you seem so much better. You seem great, in fact. Better than you've been in a while."
I shook my head and looked back forward.
"Well, I'm not, okay?"
I was a bit annoyed and my reply came off drenched in attitude. I knew I was being unfair to him. He looked hurt. I sighed.
"It's not good, Reid. I mean... I'm not home because they fixed me, that's for sure," I swallowed. I was surprised at how hard it was to talk about with him.
"We don't have to talk about it, Leo. I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"No, it's okay. I just don't think anyone understands this. I mean, I didn't come home because I'm so healthy and well off... I came home because there's nothing else to do."
His eyes were wide, I could see them out of my periphery.
"And I only have about six months to a year, maybe. I'm gonna die. And I've known that, you know? But for some reason that time-frame really makes me feel weird. Like, I dunno, like I'm watching the time run out. I know what's left. I don't know how to fit all this stuff I want to do into six months or eight months or a year. I want to be one of those people who exceeds expectations. I want to prove the doctors wrong, but the way I feel... Inside... I know it won't happen."
Reid kept listening. He didn't say anything while I ran my mouth. When I stopped, I was even more tired before.
"We'll just have to see, then, won't we?" He said finally.
I turned to him, pulling my brows together.
He smiled, "so what are we doing? We got at least six months right?"
"I want to throw a party. Not a dying party, but a birthday party. My mom offered and I told her no, but I've changed my mind now,"
He nodded, making a mental note of it. I hadn't really planned out this far.
"And... I want to travel some."
"Okay, cool, what else?"
I closed my eyes.
"And I want to go to school, college, I mean,"
His brow furrowed.
"Okay..."
"And I want to get married. And I want to have kids," I blurted out. It was always in the back of my mind. Usually I could keep it put away. I was scared of his reaction to this vulnerability. I didn't want him to comfort me, I just wanted to say it out loud.
He squinted a bit, and then, feigning surprise said, "Well, God, Leo, I don't know what to say, this is so sudden... You haven't even asked my father yet."
I rolled my eyes. I couldn't contain my laughter.
"You're a dumbass," I said.
"We'll figure it all out, okay? I mean, in the meantime, stay alive, and we'll figure it all out."
With that, he unpaused the game.

The next morning, mom was sitting at the table in the kitchen with Sam.
It was around 9 am on a Saturday, and I'd just finished my final assignment for my history course online.
"Good morning, mom," I walked behind her and kissed her cheek.
"Good morning, baby. How'd you sleep?"
"Fine."
There was a silence as I poured cereal in a bowl and sat.
I looked at her, as she looked through the papers.
"Mom, I want to be cremated."
Sam choked on his bite of cereal and my mom dropped her letters. They both looked at me in shock.
"I do. I want to be cremated, and I want my funeral to be casual. I don't want any... Priests or anything."
She blinked.
"And I want Sam..." I gestured towards him, I want Sam and Aaron to play the song that we wrote together. You know which one, right?"
He nodded slowly, almost as if he wasn't sure I had the right person, like he was trying to decide who I was while I was talking to him.
"And I want Reid to give a eulogy. It's really important that he does that."
She looked slightly angry and confused.
"Leo, why would you even say that? It's not even time to be talking about that..." She had an incredulous pitch in her voice.
"But... It is, mama," I pleaded.
Sam looked uncomfortable and in the way.
"Baby, we have so much time to talk about this. We don't need to do it now."
And then, unfortunately, the tears started on my part. She looked shocked.
"Leo, don't, sweetheart..."
I shook my head furiously.
"Mom, we need to talk about this now. Don't you understand? I can't fit everything into the time I have and I just want to do this... This one thing, okay? I can't control anything! I can't go off to school, I can't plan anything, I'm not in control of any part of my life. This is pretty much the only thing I can control, please let me do it, okay?" The frustration was welling up in me. She was stunned and silent. I felt bad for a second. But in the middle of her sad expression was an understanding. I knew that before now, she wasn't sure where I was, if I fully grasped my condition or not. This assured her that I knew.
"Okay." She stood up, and walked around the room and upstairs.
"You made her upset," Sam accused.
I looked down at my hands. It had to be said, right?
Just when I was about to get up and head back upstairs, she came downstairs with a notebook in hand. She sat across from me, placed the notepad down and clicked her pen.
She jotted notes,
"Okay, cremation..." She said as she wrote. I watched her write the word PRIESTS in all caps and bold and draw a circle around it and a line through it.
"Reid - eulogy... Sam and Aaron... Song." She looked up at me.
"Intubation?" She asked.
"Uh... What?" I stammered.
"Intubation? If you stopped breathing, do you want to be intubated?"
I shook my head, still stunned.
"CPR?"
"No."
"Defibrillator?"
"No."
She continued to jot down what I was saying.
"Organ donation?"
I scoffed, "sure, but they won't want 'em."
She smiled, and wrote that down on the paper.
"Anything else?"
I shook my head.
"No, that's all. Thank you mom."
She stood up and walked around the table, she leaned over and hugged me.
"I will do right by you, baby, I promise."
The tears flowed then, and I couldn't stop them. The weight was lifted off of my shoulders. She knew. She wasn't in denial. She would take care of it. She would do right by me.

It was the first step in learning to let go.