Awakening to Life Read online

  Dad clears his throat and I tear my eyes from the scene.

  “We need to talk about school, Allie,” he says solemnly. “You won’t be able to hide it anymore. It’s time to tell your friends and teachers what’s going on.”

  “No!” I exclaim. “Please Dad, don’t say anything. Not yet.”

  “I won’t, Allie, but I think you should.”

  “Not yet. I’m not ready. I’m not even that sick at the moment.” I argue as calmly as I can, but he hears the panic in my voice.

  “Allie, it’s going to get worse. Your friends will support you.”

  I shake my head. “They won’t know how to act around me.”

  “They’ll work it out.”

  “Please, Dad. There’s still time. Please let me have a normal life, just for a little longer.”

  “Allie–”

  “Can we just go home, Dad?” A flood of exhaustion hits me. My voice has aged seventy years.

  He bites back his next argument. “Yeah, sure.”

  Chapter 2

  It is the weekend: Saturday morning. My eyes scan the essay on my laptop. It is far from perfect, but I no longer have the patience to tinker with it. I attach the essay to an email and send it to Mr. Peterson.

  Leaning back, I look around my bedroom and contemplate how I will spend my morning. My eyes fall on the slip of paper with Paul’s number. I get up, grab it from my desk, and send Paul a text. Dad, Mum and Josh are downstairs, trying to remain inconspicuous; but one of them walks past my open door every twenty minutes. It is worse when I close the door. They find reasons to come in and check on me. Do I want a hot chocolate? Am I hungry? Do I have any dirty washing?

  Paul texts back in less than a minute saying he is free. He suggests a time and place. I leave my room and walk down the stairs, across the living room and into the kitchen. Josh sits at the table. He shovels enormous spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth. Milk spills from the corner of his lips as he sees me enter. Dad stands at the kitchen sink, washing a bowl and cup.

  “Hello,” Dad says in a cheery voice. It sounds fake, probably even to him. “What are you doing today?”

  I reach into the cupboard and grab a slice of bread. Putting it into the toaster, I reply. “Can you please drive me to a park in Brighton? I’m catching up with a friend.”

  “Sure. Are you seeing Hailey?”

  “No. Paul – from the hospital.”

  Dad turns back to the sink to hide his frown. “When are you meeting him?”

  “In an hour?”

  “Well, eat fast. I’ll drop you off after we get Josh to his soccer game.”

  I eat my toast as Josh rushes around, looking for lost items of clothing. By the time he finds his soccer boots and fills up his water bottle, I am also ready. The car ride passes quickly. Josh and I sing along to the radio, as usual. After he is dropped off at the oval, I grow silent. I start to doubt myself. Paul is not a close friend. We have spoken only a handful of times in the past six months, usually bonding over foul treatments and broken board games in the teenagers’ lounge. And we have something big in common. Still, I barely know him.

  We arrive at the park. Dad pulls into the parking lot. “I’ll pick you up at twelve, unless you call for me to come earlier.”

  I nod.

  “Do you have your phone?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Dad.”

  I get out of the car and walk towards the playground. On the way, I spot Paul sitting in the shade under a tree. He has set out a picnic rug, piling it with food in transparent containers. I see sandwiches, brownies, strawberries, and fairy bread.

  I walk up to him. “Hey.”

  “You made us fairy bread?” I laugh as I imagine him laying out the coloured sprinkles and dipping the bread in, probably eating most of the slices before they make their way into the container.

  Paul smiles back at me, leaping up and guiding me over to the picnic. “I didn’t know what food you like… so I brought all my favourites.”

  I laugh again. “Fairy bread is everyone’s favourite.”

  We sit down, picking at the food. There is so much of it that I instantly regret eating breakfast. We take it in turns to ask questions, starting off with the easier questions – like “What’s your favourite colour?” and “How many siblings do you have?” – and progressing to the harder, more complex questions that no one had really dared ask since I got sick, or ever I guess.

  “When and how did you discover you had cancer?” he asks openly.

  “About two years ago. Mum was on a work trip and Dad was pretty busy dealing with Josh slacking off in school. I just vomited all morning and couldn’t get out of bed that weekend. I was so tired and aching all over. She took me to the doctor and I got a blood test. The next week the word cancer was mentioned and I’m off to the hospital to get more tests, bringing Mum back early.”

  “How did you feel when you were diagnosed?”

  “Umm… Scared? Confused? Angry? Upset? Take your pick,” I say. “I couldn’t understand how things could go from so normal to have needles stuck in me every second day. I hated needles, so much so that I would throw up every time they stabbed me. And I swear they just kept getting bigger and bigger!”

  He laughs softy. “And then you got used to it.”

  I nod. We sit quietly for a moment. “I pretend to have a normal life. The people at school don’t know I have cancer.”

  “That must be lonely.”

  It is my turn to ask the questions. “Who did you find were the people that matter? And who surprised you?”

  Paul takes a deep breath and I watch him from the corner of my eye. “My mum really came through for me, you know? She used to spend most of her time drinking and smoking… messing around, but she quit all that when I was diagnosed. I was four at the time. Dad stopped visiting. He has a new family now; perfect house, trophy wife, two healthy kids. But Mum took care of me. I made some pretty close friends when I was in remission at fourteen years old. One of them was my neighbour, is still my neighbour, and we’re pretty close. And then there’s the occasional sick kid like you.” He winks at me.

  “My brother, Josh…” I begin. “He used to try and annoy me in every way he could. Then I was diagnosed. He shaved his head when I started chemo, so that I wouldn’t feel like a freak.” I laugh at the memory. “Too bad I didn’t lose my hair.”

  The conversation flows easily. By the time Dad arrives, I feel like I’ve known Paul my whole life. As much as I want to stay, I feel an inevitable tiredness creeping up on me. I sit in the front seat smiling to myself, replaying our conversations in my head.

  When we get home, I go straight to my room to lie down. By now, I’m also feeling nauseous. I catch my reflection in the mirror as I pass the bathroom. The image pulls me in. I stand centimetres away from the glass and examine myself. My skin is chalk white, my eyes are lively and alert.

  As I watch, a single bead of blood leaks from my nose. It drops onto the cabinet next to my hands. As I bring my focus back to my face, the blood flows faster until it is gushes from my nose like water from a tap. I fumble for a hand towel, knocking my tooth brush holder onto the floor.

  There was a time when Mum and Dad could not beg, or bribe, or threaten Josh to get off the Xbox quickly. It would always be one more game, one more hour… But now, when he hears the crash of the china, he immediately runs into the room. I see his reflection behind mine in the mirror. He stands transfixed. An expression of unfiltered fear crosses his face. He starts shouting for our parents. He reaches me at the basin in the exact moment I lose consciousness.

  ***

  Five hours later, I am sitting on the edge of a hospital bed. My hospital gown is folded on a chair. I am changed and waiting for my parents to reappear in the doorway, telling me I’m free to leave the hospital.

  The clock above my head emit
s a slow ticking rhythm. My fingers trace the folds in the bed sheet. The crinkled fabric barely shifts at the pressure of my touch. It is harsh and rough. I dread the thought of spending another night under its cover.

  Josh sticks his head into the room. I glance behind him, but the corridor is empty.

  “Let’s go to the teenagers’ lounge. They’re going to be ages,” he says.

  I sigh, but follow him out into the hallway and through the corridors. We have the teenagers’ lounge to ourselves. Most of the other kids are with family in their rooms.

  Together, we open Monopoly and settle in for a long game. Josh has changed into an oversized tracksuit. His hair is short and patchy, still growing back from when he shaved it. Within the children’s oncology ward, he looks much more like a patient than I do in my faded jeans and t-shirt, hair spilling over my shoulders as I reach to grab the dice.

  The game calms my nerves. Before long, I’ve almost forgotten the drama of my sudden collapse and the ambulance ride which brought us here. Besides, the game is hilarious. People have added their own chance and community chest cards to the game, scribbled on matching pieces of paper. Josh and I embrace their instructions wholeheartedly; swapping, doubling and halving properties and money when told.

  An hour passes easily, and then Josh gets bored.

  “Dad told me what’s going on,” Josh says hesitantly as I move my player around the board, passing him a few notes when it lands on his property.

  “What did he say?”

  “That you’re going to die soon. He said there’s nothing more the doctors can do.”

  I say nothing. It is like swallowing thorns.

  “I don’t want you to die, Allie.”

  My heart breaks. Tears fill his eyes but he wipes them away, refusing to cry in front of me. I am suddenly reminded that he is not really a child anymore. He is a teenager. A fourteen-year-old boy who is too proud to cry in front of anyone.

  “I’m sorry, Josh,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

  I lean over and wrap my arms around him. He leans his head on my shoulder. His breath is loud and uneven in my ear.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I tell him. “You’ll be okay.”

  Neither of us speaks after that. We keep playing Monopoly in silence. I watch him from under my lashes. His eyes are red and the skin is a splotchy purple, although he refuses to let his tears fall. I notice that his face has lost some of the roundness and softness of youth.

  Pushing away the sadness, I concentrate on the game. People start to drift into the lounge. The room gradually gets louder. With the change in atmosphere, our game loses some of its tension. We start laughing again. Josh yells in excitement each time he outsmarts me. He piles his hotels in neat constructions on the board. Until a small girl in fairy wings darts past, knocking over Josh’s plastic towers. A teenage boy rushes after her, grabbing her by the waist and swinging her into his arms. He turns to look at Josh.

  “Sorry about that, she’s a bit excited to watch her new movie.” He holds it up.

  Josh glares at the board. I laugh at his expression.

  “It’s not a problem,” I say, meeting the boy’s eyes. My mouth wants to fall open, but I clench my teeth together.

  Jayden. From school.

  His eyes scan over me, widening in shock as his gaze darts to Josh and back to me. His lips part.

  “Come on, kids! Dr. Marsden is waiting!” Mum yells sharply from the door. Josh and I pack up the game at rapid speed. Jayden remains standing over us. The little girl tugs impatiently at his sleeve.

  “We have to go,” I say. “See you at school.”

  He nods. Josh and I stride across the room towards Mum. I feel as if I am in a trance.

  He knows.

  Goosebumps erupt on my skin. A cold wave floods my body.

  Everyone will know my secret at school tomorrow. The quiet girl has cancer. People will treat me differently.

  Chapter 3

  On Monday afternoon, I slip into my usual seat, next to Hailey—our first lesson together for the day. Our Religion and Values Education teacher, Mrs. Colliey, starts introducing the DVD we are to watch in class. I sense Hailey trying to grab my attention, but, as in every class yet today, my mind drifts to the memory of Jayden’s face when he saw me. After a day spent convincing my parents and Dr. Marsden that I would tell the school when I am ready, and that I would take as many sick days as I need, it seems like a waste. Jayden will ruin everything.

  The DVD starts. The image is projected on a large screen, suspended above the whiteboard. I try to focus on the documentary, but the door opens and Jayden sneaks into the room. He takes the seat diagonally behind mine. Our eyes lock together. He takes a seat and turn back around.

  The DVD is about teenagers ruining their lives, mostly through drugs, alcohol, and violence. It is cliché and stupid – but it makes me feel cheated. I do not deserve to die. I hope he hasn’t told anyone yet. I am not ready. The kids on the screen are throwing away their lives; and I would give anything to have mine. All I can think about is how they are getting a second chance. That they have opportunities, even after screwing up so badly. But I will die. I never took drugs, or even drank more than one glass of alcohol. I eat relatively well; only having junk food once a fortnight. I used to play netball and take dance lessons.

  As hard as I try to contain it, anger and sadness wells within me. Tears spill from my eyes. I brush them away, hoping that nobody notices the chaos of my emotions. The tears just flow faster and a tiny sob escapes my throat. Hailey turns to look at me. She stares, unmoving, then extends a hand to my desk. I push back my chair and run from the room, weaving violently through the maze of desks. I slam through the door and run along the edge of the undercover area.

  “Allie! Hey, Allie! Wait up!”

  Hailey runs after me. I keep moving, pushing myself faster and catching snippets of conversations with each door I pass. Barely slowing for the swinging door, I burst into the girls’ bathroom and lock myself in the nearest cubicle. Then I sob, freely, for the second time since that Friday. The door swings open again, crashing into the wall. Footsteps hurriedly enter the room. I try to smother my sobbing, but it is as if they are being pulled from my chest by a higher power.

  “Allie, please talk to me. Are you okay?” Hailey stands outside the cubicle. I can see her shoes peaking beneath the door. “Allie? Was it the video?”

  All year we have been learning about self esteem and good habits. We are lectured about short-term and long-term goals. I even did the exercises, when everyone else in the class thought it was a waste of time. They were right. I wrote down my hopes and my dreams. I poured my heart onto the page and truly believed that I would fulfil them; or, at least, have the chance to grow up and find new ones, only to look back and laugh at how childish or simple my aspirations were at the age of sixteen.

  “Allie. I know something’s wrong,” Hailey whispers, her words echo off the bathroom walls. “You’ve lost a lot of weight. You’re so skinny. You never eat much…”

  I cry even harder. She knows nothing. I have not been honest with her. And yet, she cares about me. God, I wish she was right and it really was an eating disorder. Well no, I just wish I was not cancer.

  I concentrate on calming myself. I control my breathing, just like the hospital psychologists recommend. In and out. Deepen the breathing, lengthen the inhale. Expand your lungs. “Nothing’s wrong, Hailey. I’m just overly emotional. It’s that time of the month.”

  I slide the lock free and push my way out into the bathroom. Hailey’s face has crumbled and her posture is slumped. Her hands are shaking. She steps away from the door and leans against a basin, as though it is the only thing keeping her upright. Then she shakes her head quickly, once to each side, and pulls me into an embrace.

  “You’re lying. Admit it, Allie. You need help.”

/>   “I’m fine. I’m just going to go home.”

  “Allie - “

  “Just drop it, Hailey. Please. I’m going home.”

  She does not follow me as I leave the bathroom. With each step away, I am in more control of my body. My breathing is even and natural now. My body loosens and the dizziness I felt whilst crying fades away.

  I walk around the corner to my locker with greater speed and urgency, and crash into another person. For the second time in the last two school days, I hurl towards the ground, only to be grabbed by the shoulders and raised to my feet again.

  “Sorry!” It is Jayden again. His eyes are fixed on mine and I feel like I cannot escape. I feel the heat radiating from his body, it is so close. His gaze travels the trails of tears on my face. He will know I have been crying. My face flushes and my breathing quickens again.