NEW YORK EYES

new york eyes 4

patrick

"I have a brain tumor," I repeat over and over.

I need to tell pete. I've known him for six months now and we started dating. dating. mom said I should tell him. he deserves to know, right? he's my boyfriend.

we've been dating now for three months, we got together after that time we sort of kissed in the photo booth. that led to making out.

making out led to telling each other we liked the other and we made out some more, then got kicked out and we decided we would start dating.

"ugh!" I yell as my head starts pounding again. its gotten worse lately and no chemo is helping me.

"bub, what's wrong?!" mom asks, running into my room and looks around frantically.

"I want to tell pete but I don't know how!" I pull at my hair. "and my damn head hurts!"

"patrick calm down. come on. you didn't get your headache medicine this morning, thats why it hurts so bad," mom says and pulls me downstairs into the the kitchen.

she grabs my medicine off the dark marble countertop and hands me the pill.

"thank you," I mumble and look down at my feet once I take it.

"of course, bub," she ruffles my hair. "wanna listen to glee cast with me while I clean? they covered raise your glass. I think you'll like it."

"okay," I shrug and sit on the couch and as she hooks her phone up to the bluetooth speaker. raise your glass starts playing.

she pulls me to my feet and we move back and forth, hands connected and we dance.

"we will never be, never be anything but loud and dirty little freaks! so come on, come on and raise your glass!" we sing.

she lets go of my hands and grabs the duster and dusts while dancing.

I smile and dance along and I keep singing.

I hear sweet, familiar laugh behind me and I turn around and face pete. he stands in front of the front door. I smile and feel my cheeks heat up.

he steps forward, hand on my hip and we dance.

"all my underdogs," he sings off-key. "come on, come on raise your glass!"

I laugh at his off-key singing and hug him as the song ends. "hi, petey."

"hi, 'tricky," he replies and boops my nose. I giggle and rub my nose.

"oh.. uh, can I tell you something? its important- or.. well it can wait for later," I mumble.

"patrick," mom says warningly.

"what is it?" pete asks.

"I-I... I don't know how to tell you this! dammit!" I cover my face with my hands and sit on the couch. "I'm sorry."

"its okay," pete comforts and crouches down in between my legs, my hands in his hands. "tell me."

"I..." I look at my mom and she nods. "I'm dying."

"I'm sorry. w-what did you say?" he stutters out. "you're joking right?"

"no," I shake my head. "I have a brain tumor."

"why didn't you tell me?" he asks.

"I'm scared. I'm scared you'll leave me because I won't last long. because I won't always be here for you like I said I would."

"oh patrick," he says and wraps me in a hug. I feel tears drips through my shirt.

"are you going to leave me now?" I ask.

"I'm never gonna leave you."