SPLASH! I jump out of bed wet and cold, and my dad stands next to my bed with an empty bucket.
     “Really!” I shout furiously, as I wipe my wet hair out of my eyes.
     “You didn’t get up,” he responds simply. Shivering with cold, and anger, I grab a new t-shirt, a beanie to cover my hair and some jeans,
     “I had my clock set!”
     “You broke it, remember?” Oh. That’s right.
     “Get out Dad!” He just laughs and walks out, leaving the bucket in my room, and I kick it across the room. I change faster than he does, so I’m sitting in the car, water dripping down my back. When my dad finally comes out, whistling, I snap.
     “What are you so happy about?” I yell as soon as he gets in the car. He just starts the car, and starts driving without a word. Today is the first day I have to babysit that Emily girl. This is going to be the most awkward situation of my life. I sit quietly, stare out the window, and every so often, wipe water out of my eyes. Too soon we pull into the parking lot. I walk as slowly as possible down that hallway, till I reach her room. I lean in the doorway and look in. Emily’s just sitting there reading a magazine. With the morning light coming in, she looks paper thin. I stop and wonder how sick she is. Who cares, I think.
     “You know, you can come in,” she says without looking up from her magazine. I walk in and sit down on the plastic chair. We sit in silence, and the only noise is her turning the pages.
     “What are you reading?” I ask, because the silence is starting to suffocate me. She looks up and makes eye contact.
     “People magazine,” she says evenly.
     “Why?” I laugh. She looks up, but doesn’t answer right away. She just laughs lightly,
     “I don’t know really. My mom brings them for me whenever she comes.”
     “Does she...visit you a lot?” I ask unsure.
     “No,” she says flatly. “Neither of them do.” I just nod and look away, and I see her go back to her magazine. “Why are you all wet?” she asks. I feel embarrassed answering.
     “Uh...my dad threw water on me to wake me  up,” I say quickly. She bursts out laughing and I jump. It’s the same laugh I couldn’t get out of my head yesterday. I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t say anything. She starts reading again, laughing to herself. Nurses come and go, and each of them look at me strangely. One even leans in and says.
     “Are you Emmy’s boyfriend?”
     “Uh, no.” I say way too quickly. The nurse looks disappointed and leaves. Emily laughs,
     “As if you’d be my boyfriend.” I look up, “No, I’m too messed up for you.” Emily laughs again, this time it doesn’t have the same ring,
     “You really want to play the pity game? I’m undefeated.” I stare at her thinking that she’s probably right, but I go for it anyway. I just want to know more about her,
     “Sure, let’s play. Want me to go first?” I ask boldly.
     “Of course,” she says with false sweetness.
     “My dad hates me, my mom left us, ran off with my dad’s best man and my savings account. Now I’m doing community service so I’m stuck here everyday trying to be your friend.” I leave out the part about being arrested. No need to get into that today.
     “Tough luck, but I think I take the cake.” I wait expectantly, but she goes back to her magazine.
     “Well? Are you going to tell me?” She doesn’t even look up,
     “Nope,” she pauses to turn the pages. “Not yet.
     “Fine,” I mutter. “I guess I’ll die unfulfilled.” She just nods once and looks away. Great Chris, talk about death to the cancer patient. We sit in silence until she breaks it again,
     “So what now?” I don’t look at her right away. I stand up because I can’t sit in this chair the whole time. I look around and my gaze falls on the wheelchair. I walk over and sit in it and wheel around.
     “What are you doing?” She asks judgmentally.
     “Forming a theory about you,” I respond casually. She laughs,
     “Which is?”
     “You haven’t had fun in a long time.” This time she doesn’t say something. Instead she swallows hard and looks back at her magazine. God, please no tears.
     “You’re right,” she says without even looking up. “I can’t remember the last time I had fun. But I don’t think your idea of fun is...fun.”
     “When’s the last time you went somewhere?” This time she’s the one who avoids my eyes,
     “Never...I don’t know,” I can see she’s embarrassed and the human emotion buried deep down in me tells me to stop.
      I stand up and pace. I can’t get my mind off the wheelchair and the fact that she hasn’t left that bed in a long time.
     “Well, I am not going to be able to stay in this room all day. All summer!”
     “No one asked you too,” she retorts.
     “My dad did.” She stops, as if remembering that detail, “So then where are we going? I can’t leave the hospital!”
     “Then we won’t leave the hospital. There’s plenty of ways to get in trouble here.”
     “How do you know?” This girl is really starting to irritate me. I whip around to stare at her,
     “Look. There’s two things I do well: art and getting into trouble. Right now, I can only do one. So, you coming or are you going to just lay here and feel sorry for yourself?” Her green eyes harden, and I know I’ve hit a chord. I think about apologizing, but she’s already throwing off her covers and picking up her weak legs and throwing them over the side of the bed. She looks away suddenly,
     “I can’t get into the chair by myself. I’ll have to call one of the nurses.” I almost laugh,
     “That would defeat the point. I’ll just lift you.” She turns toward me and I see her face is bright red. Yikes. Without a word I wheel the chair closer and gently pick her up, under the knees and elbows.
     “You’re light as a feather,” I say quietly, and gingerly sit her down in the wheelchair. She still doesn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah, one of the perks of cancer, I don’t have to worry about being overweight,” she says tightly. I have to laugh at this one. I expect her to be offended, but she just giggles. I start pushing her, but she stops me, “I can push myself.”
     “Oh really? I bet I can go faster than you,” I say casually.
     “Okay tough guy, bring it on,” she says, taking the bait. I just want to do something and a challenge seems like the perfect way. I run down to the nurses station and grab a spare wheelchair and get in it. I start pushing myself back down the hallway and instantly I get stopped by a nurse. I recognize her from the first day, and she looks like something out of a movie: North Philadelphia born and raised, easily 5’ 11” and just plain big. She didn’t smile when she met me. She isn’t smiling now either. Oh no.
     “Where y’all think you’re goin’?”
     “Uh...” I stammer. I see Emily rolling up behind her,
     “It’s okay Min, he’s with me.” She says out of breath. She didn’t even roll that far.
     “With you? Where you goin’? To smoke some pot? Nuh-uh, you git your butts back in the room,” she says menacingly. This time I find the words to snap back,
      “Pot! I don’t do drugs!” I snap. Marijuana is barely a drug anyway, and besides I stopped. “We just wanted to explore, is that a crime?” I ask vehemently. This time Min just threw back her head and let out a hoot of laughter than me me jump,
     “If y’all wanted to go somewhere ya coulda jes said so! I just wanted to make sure my Emmy wasn’t goin’ off with no one skeevey. I had to make sure you was a good person.” I stare at her open-mouthed, until Emily turns around to look at me,
     “Min’s on our side, Chris.” I nod vaguely while Min hoots again and walks away.
     “Is everyone in this hospital insane?” I ask quietly. She doesn’t answer so I start pushing myself toward her again. Under the fluorescent hallways lights she looks even paler which makes her green eyes look greener. Suddenly she gasps and I jump again. God, why am I so jumpy?
     “What?” I snap.
     “We need to get out of here! Go somewhere! Anywhere!” She’s ducking down in her chair and I look around wondering what in the world she could be hiding from. I turn around and I see a monster of a man storming into Emily’s room. Trailing behind him is a small, pale woman wringing her hands. He bursts out of the room yelling at the top of his lungs at a nearby nurse, while the woman tries to quiet him.
     “Who is that?” I hiss.
     “Just please! Get me out of here, he can’t see us!” I don’t ask questions, because I sense this man means trouble. I jump out of my wheelchair, snatch my beanie off my head and shove it on her head to cover her. I start pushing her down a nearly empty corridor. I turn around just before we turn the corner to see the man kick my wheelchair against the wall.
     “I’m glad I wasn’t sitting in that,” I say with a nervous laugh. Emily doesn’t seem to be hearing me though,
     “They’re going to find us,” she says softly. I don’t know why, but the look on that guy’s face makes me walk faster,
     “Who is that, Emily?” She looks back at me, “My parents.” I stop short and Emily almost flies out of the chair.
     “Why are we running from them?” I didn’t sign up for this kind of stuff. She doesn’t answer so I’m forced to keep going. I’d never thought I’d be running from a sick girl’s mother and father, but here I am. I take a left and we wheel into the lobby, and smack right into my dad. Perfect.
     “Chris! This is...different. Emily’s parents are looking for her. Wheel her back to her room, would you?” He walks away before he even finishes his sentence. Emily looks up at me wide eyed,
     “We’re gonna get caught!” The hardness that I’ve built up over the years replaces the fear. I know that we can’t get caught, but I don’t know why,
     “No, we won’t!” I start looking around for my father, to make sure our getaway is clean and I see an elevator. I walk over and push the up button, but before it opens I hear shouting,
     “She couldn’t have just disappeared!”
     “Now sir, I’m gonna hafta ask you to calm yourself. This is a hospital. Please be quiet!” I recognize the roar of Emily’s dad and I instantly know Min’s calm, city voice. I also know she can only buy us so much time. The elevator door dings opens, I wheel in and push first button I see and Emily punches her finger in the close button. The shouting reaches the lobby just as the doors close.
     “I don’t know if my heart can take this convict run. I can’t go back to jail.” I laugh, but I realize my mistake as soon it as soon as I say it.
     “You were in jail?” She asks incredulously.
     “Long story. Another time.” No point in denying it. The elevator door opens, so I have an excuse to stop talking. I wheel her down another hallway and we get to a hallway that’s off limits for maintenance.
     “This looks like the place for us.” I push her under the caution tape and wheel her into the nearest room. I sit down on the floor across from her and wait. She avoids my eyes, and I know I won’t get any answers without a push,
     “Emily?” She barely tilts her head to look at me. “Why are we running from your parents?” I swipe the hair out of my eyes and look at her. I wonder what type of hair she had. I bet she was pretty. I stop, surprised at myself again. I look at her in my beanie and her deep green eyes start filling up with tears, and I know it’s going to be bad. She takes a shuddering breath and wipes her eyes,
     “I can’t tell you. It would take too long and you’d probably get bored,” she says with a shaky laugh. I shake my head and try to meet her eyes.
     “I’m you’re caretaker, remember? Pretend like I’m being paid.”
     “I-” Blaring alarms make both of us jump, only she makes it look painful, “Are you-”. A voice over the intercom booms, “Code Amber!” I look at Emily and she’s stifling a laugh.
     “What’s code amber?” I ask slowly.
     “Um… It means they can’t find a child,” she says plainly. I pull out my phone, and scroll through the notifications. Six missed calls and fourteen texts. We’ve only been gone half an hour!
     “You’re the child!” I grab the handles of her chair and bolt back to the room with Emily yelling out directions for shortcuts and almost running over nurses along the way. Emily’s laughing so hard, I almost forget she was crying her eyes out two minutes ago. I arrive in her room, sides hurting, and see my dad, fuming,
     “Where were you?” He yells at me, but it’s Emily who answers, “We were in the hospital chapel, right Chris?” Her eyes demand I go along with it,
     “Uh… Yeah! She wanted to pray and I can’t deny my patient’s desire to be with God.”
     “You? In a church? Ha! I bet you broke out in a sweat,” He says laughing at his own joke. After a second he explodes again, as if remembering he was mad. “Didn’t you get my texts? You were gone for an hour!”
     “I turned my phone off so I could bond with God and the girl I’ll be taking care of for the next couple months. And besides, God has no timeframe.” His eyes travel down to my beanie on her head and before he can ask questions I take it off and shove it back on top of my curls. For once in his life, my dad has nothing to say. He storms out of the room and yells over his shoulder,
     “I see you manage to get in trouble in a damn hospital!” A chorus of nurses scold him for cursing in a children’s hospital. “Darn hospital!” He corrects himself and walks away. Emily and I look at each other and burst out laughing.
     “That was incredible! Except for the dad’s ruining everything,” she gasps out. I turn away from her and look around her room. I liked this girl a lot more in one day than I expected to in the whole summer. I told myself I wouldn’t become friends with any of the patients. Too late for that, if that’s what we were now. My dad walks by again and snaps that we’re leaving in five minutes. I take off my beanie and put it back on her head again,
     “Keep it. To keep your bald head warm.” She smiles and I turn to go, “Chris?”
     “Yeah?”
     “Can you lift me back into bed? I don’t want to call a nurse.” I walk over and scoop her up and set her in the bed, “I’m glad you're my caretaker.” She looks embarrassed as soon as she says it.
     “Me too.” I say quietly. I stand up and walk out to the car.
     My dad doesn’t say anything, but he’s radiating anger my way.
     “I’m sorry Dad.” Those words sound strange coming out of my mouth, but anything to stop this silence.
     “Not as sorry as you’re going to be.” I don’t like the sound of that,
     “What do you mean?” He doesn’t answer right away, as if he’s wondering what to say.
     “I think it was a mistake making you be her caretaker. I don’t want you to get too attached or develop...feelings for each other.” I laugh a little too loudly.
     “Dad. I’m in this for your satisfaction, so I can ‘serve my time’ and get out. Okay?” I hesitate, “Just wondering though, why’d you ask?”
     “It’d just be bad Chris! If you can’t see why, then I can’t tell you!” If we had this conversation yesterday I would have yelled, but today I don’t. We sit in silence again, until we reach our house. I walk in and walk straight to the stairs. My dad grabs my arm.
     “Chris,” the tone of his voice makes me resist the urge to shrug away. “I don’t want you to get hurt again, okay?” I feel a stab of pain. By again he means Lily. I nod and shake free of his grasp. I pound up the stairs and go to bed without eating dinner.

I wake up before my dad every morning after that. Every day I go to her room and I find myself becoming closer to her. And each day I push myself away. Today I pull on a pair of jeans and feel a lump in my pocket. I reach in and pull out a bag of weed. I stare at it and wonder how I got here. I never thought I’d end up where I am now. I stare at it for a minute before tossing it in the trash. A year ago that would have killed me to do. Now I’m surprised I didn’t do it faster.
     I go outside and sit in the driveway and watch the sun come up. A car pulls up and I look up. The person rolls down the window and I see Dan. Oh God. He gets out of the car and walks over to me, joint in hand,
     “Hey dude! I heard you got sprung. Or sprang. Heh, whatever.” He comes over to sit by me, but I put my hand up to stop him,
     “Really Dan? It’s not even seven in the morning!” His easy, marijuana induced smile turns into a frown quickly.
     “Okay man. Fine! A guy can tell when he’s not wanted.” He gets up and before I can say anything, he gets back in his beater car and speeds away. I hear the front door open and close and see my dad walk to the car. If he saw anything he doesn’t say so. Thank God. The car ride is silent, like usual, but lately I don’t mind it as much. There’s no longer a pressure. I go ahead of my dad and walk towards Emily’s room. I know the route by heart now. Before I get there, I hear sirens and nurses rushing a gurney to an operating room out of the emergency wing. Without thinking I run after the gurney and see what I dreaded: Dan. I yell his name, but he doesn’t answer me. He’s unconscious.
     I stop following the gurney and turn around. Karma. I go to Emily’s room and see that she’s still asleep. Without making a sound I go in and sit on the chair. I stare at her and really study this girl who I’ve been forced to get to know better. My dad never intended either of us not to mind so much.
     Emily slowly wakes up, and she still has my beanie beside her bed that I gave her on the Day of the Dads. She sits up and yawns and I look away quickly so she doesn’t know I was looking at her.
     “Hey,” she says sleepily.
     “Hey,” I say stiffly. She notices the tone of my voice and looks at me curiously. She stretches, but she winces and drops her arms quickly.
     “You okay?” She gives me a quick glance, and looks away again, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Before I can ask another question, my dad comes in and begins his daily interrogation. Emily shoots me an exasperated look and I cough to hide my laughter. She smiles, but looks back at my dad. I tune out his questions and look back at Emily carefully. Are we friends now? When did that happen? Maybe running from her dad two weeks ago started it all. She is still closed off about her home life. I haven’t gotten any clarity on her father and why she is so terrified of him, but I know it can’t be good. I brush my hair out of my eyes and look down at her hands. Her nails are bitten to the quick and she’s clenching her hands so tight that the knuckles are turning white. I try to signal my dad, but he’s already wrapping up his questions which she probably lied right through. I grit my teeth till he leaves,
     “Why’d you lie to him?” I hiss quietly. She makes eye contact with me and her eyes bore into mine. I’m still shocked at how green her eyes are,
     “I wasn’t lying,” she says evenly.
     “You’re lying again! I can see it in your hands!” She looks down at her hands and unclenches them quickly.
     “I don’t have any pain, I’m just tired.”
     “You just woke up!” I say incredulously, “Emily. Why can’t you tell me the truth?”
     “That is the truth!” She yells and starts coughing. Before I can say anything, she leans over the side of the bed and vomits. I stand up so suddenly the plastic chair falls over. I ran to the hall and right into a nurse and practically drag her into Emily’s room.
      I stay outside and sit with my back against the wall. A little time later, nurses wheel Emily on a gurney into her room, back out and down the hall. I stand up and race after her, “What’s going on?” “Where are you taking her?” “What’s wrong with her?” Questions tumble out of my mouth faster than I’m getting answers. I see Min and stop her. I know she’ll tell me,
     “Where are they taking her?” She looks at me like I’m actually a person, and not a problem,
     “To stop her pain and run some tests and the works.”
     “But why?” She sighs heavily, as if the sentence weighs her down,
     “To see if the cancer’s spread, honey.” No one’s called me honey in a long time, and I know it’s not good. I step back and turn away from the gurney. Emily notices me and twists around to look at me,
     “Chris? Chris!” I don’t turn back around, but somewhere, deep down, the sound of her voice makes my heart hurt.
*     *     *
      I sit on the floor, head in my hands and try to block out the world. I pull my curls in front of my eyes and watch pairs of shoes go by. No one stops by me. I hear heavy footsteps coming my way, and I already know it’s my dad.
       “Chris,” he says softly. I don’t look up. “Come here, we need to talk.” I pull myself up off the floor and fall into step behind him. He leads me down a couple of hallways until we reach his office. I’ve only been inside once, and that’s when I waited for my aunt to pick me up. She came to tell me that my mom ran away. I shake my head free of the memories and follow him inside. My dad doesn’t sit, instead he just paces back and forth.
      “Oh God, what happened? Is she alright?” I half raise out of my chair in worry. He motions me back down. I sit down uneasily and watch him pace,
     “I warned you,” he says flatly. I don’t make eye contact, because I know exactly what he means. “Did I not warn you? I told you not to get too close! Or develop feelings!”
     “Okay, I do not have feelings for her!” I yell. “We’re friends! Isn’t that what you wanted?” This time my dad’s the one who looks away,
     “You’re telling me, that in no way at all, you don’t have the slightest feeling for her?”
     “We’re friends, Dad,” I say sternly. “Nothing more.” I grit my teeth as I say it, because I know that’s all we’ll ever be. My dad sits down heavily at his desk, and I take that as an opportunity to leave. He calls my name, but I keep walking. I walk till I reach her room, even though she’s not in it, and sit down on her bed. The white walls and spotless floor make the room seem so bare, and I feel my anger build up. Before I even know what I’m doing, I launch off the bed and feel my fist connect with the wall. Pain radiates up through my arm and I stagger back. I look at my fist and my knuckles are already bleeding. I punch the wall again, and again and again till all the fight leaves me and I sink down onto the floor with my head in my hands.
     I forgot what it was like to punch something and now I can’t remember why I liked it. I stand up and go into the small bathroom and run my hands under cold water. The water turns slightly pink as I see my blood go down the drain. I look in the mirror and I don’t recognize myself. Who am I? I turn off the water and dry my hands, wincing as the towel rubs my cuts. I leave the bathroom and see Min waiting for me.
     “What do you want?” I say quietly. She’s not looking at me. She’s looking at the smear of blood on the wall. Great.
     “Got a little angry, did we?” She turns arounds and her eyes travel to my hands behind my back. “Lemme see your hands.”
      “No,” I say severely.
      “Fine. Let ‘em bleed.” With that she gets up and walks to the door.
      “Wait!” She stops at the doorway. “Can you fix them up?” She turns back around and orders me to sit on the bed. I go obediently. She gets some stuff that I think is called gauze and starts winding them around my hands,
     “Why’d you punch the wall, hun?” She asks without looking up. I don't know how to answer.
     “I’m not in the mood for a psychiatry session,” I say flatly. She looks up at me with exasperation on her face.
      “Hun, lemme tell you something. No matter how many times you deny something, it doesn’t go away. My husband told me that when I became pregnant. The first time.” This is the first time I look down at her hands and see a simple, gold wedding band on her left hand. I didn’t know she was married.
     “Ew,” I snort. “TMI. If you ignore something it goes away.” She shakes her head as if I’m not understanding.
     “Bottom line is, it’s okay to feel upset, furious even, but don’t let it consume you. We all care for Emily, not just you.”
      “I don’t care for her!” I say annoyed. She gives me a look,
      “Don’t you though?” With that she gets up and leaves, leaving me confused and rubbing my sore knuckles. Shaking my head I decided that Min was just using messed-up psychology to get inside my head. I go into the bathroom, get a wet towel, and try to wipe the blood off the wall. Most of it comes off, but there’s a faint pink smear. With the walls so white, it’s noticeable enough for Emily to see it. I definitely don’t want that. She deals with enough. I look around to see what else I can use to get it off, instead my eyes fall on a get well card on her bedside table. I walk over and open it and see that it's one of those pity cards sent by the nurses. I stare at the card for a while, but I only notice the color. It's a pale blue green. Nice. I realize I'm still holding the card when my dad comes in and tells me it's time to go. I see his eyes move down to my bandaged hands and then to the card I'm still clutching.
     "It's time to go," he says abruptly. I set the card on her pillow next to my beanie and walk out. When we reach the car I come to a conclusion,
     "Dad, can I buy some paint?" He snorts,
     "What for? Your spray painting again?"
     "I want to paint Emily's room.” He doesn’t look at me,
     “Why?” he asks tightly. I don’t really have an answer for that.
     “How long will she be in the ICU?"
     "As long as it takes." I don’t want to ask to do what. He drives me to the nearest store and I go in and buy rollers, brushes and a can of pale blue paint.

I stand in Emily's room the next morning with a can of paint in one hand, and a roller in the other. It's been so long since I painted anything besides old building, that I don't even know where to start. I hear someone come in and I can tell that it's Min. She seems to be the only one in this hospital who's somewhat okay with my presence,
     "Staring at that wall ain't gonna get it painted," she says slowly. Everything she says to me now is in a cautious tone, because she knows I can go off the chain and probably doesn't want to be the cause of it.
     "I know Min, I know," I say annoyed. "I just...don't know where to start." She shakes her head as if I'm stupid and starts prying the lid off the paint with a screwdriver and pouring it into a paint dish that my dad said I should buy.
     "Okay, now you roll the brush in the paint, and paint the walls. Make sure you get every speck of wall. And cover up that blood stain real good." She says this last part with emphasis and I look away. She walks away and I start painting.
*     *     *
     I feel a tap on my shoulder, and someone roughly yanks my earphones out of my ears.
     "Hey!" I turn around to come face to face with my dad.
     "I said your name six times, Chris!" I shrug away from his grasp and step back.
     "Sorry, I was in the zone I guess," I say causally. My dad scoffs,
     "Yeah, just like the night you were arrested.” He turns shaking his head and walks away.
     “What is your problem?” He stops short, but doesn’t turn around. “I’m trying to fix things! I’m trying to turn my life around, but you won’t let me! You’re always right there making my life miserable! I’m trying, and I’m trying...but...” He turns to look at me, and opens his mouth but closes it and walks away without saying a word.
     “AGH!” I pull my fist back towards the wall, but just let it stay there. I’m shaking with anger, but I drop my fist to my side, and let my breath out in a rush. I’m out of paint and out of anger. I put the roller back in the dish and sit down on the hospital bed. I sit hunched over, and hold my head in my hands, running my thoughts through my mind over and over. Someone knocks on the door, and I look up in time to see Min. She walks in and looks around at my work,
     “The doctors think she’ll be back in her room in two days, so just in time for the paint to dry.” I nod, barely listening. “Chris. Look at me.” The way she says my name makes me look up, and I’m startled to see tears in her eyes, “You have to be honest with yourself in order to be happy.” I don’t meet her eyes. Too late for that, I think.
     “I can’t remember the last time I was happy,” I say evenly. She sighs and nods,
     ¨I know honey, I believe that. I know more about your life than you do. I've known your dad for a very long time. I even met your mom once.¨ My heart tightens at the mention of my mom. It's been awhile since I let myself think about her because it usually never ended well.
     ¨-good man,¨ Min is still talking and at that phrase my thoughts snap back to reality.
     ¨Who's a good man?¨ I snap. Min looks at me startled.
     ¨Your dad,¨ she says calmly. I scoff and get up and start pacing.
     ¨He is not a good man,¨ I say automatically. Min gives me a look as if she can't believe how stupid I am.
     ¨Why of course he is. He didn't throw you in the slammer, did he? He's here giving you a second chance and you're a fool if you don't take it!¨ This time I'm the one shaking my head,
     ¨He doesn't want me here. He doesn't want me near Emily,¨ I say my voice thick with anger. When did I start caring about Emily so much? We've only known each other two weeks!
     ¨Because her cancer is now terminal Chris!¨ Min shouts in frustration. She realizes her mistake, and covers her mouth with her hand. I stop dead in my pacing and stare at her. Without a word I run out of Emily's room and down the many hallways until I reach my dad's office. I see him sitting calmly at his desk and I throw the door open so forcefully that it knocks a picture off the wall,
     ¨Why didn't you tell me her cancer got worse?¨ I shout. My dad barely looks up,
     ¨Sit down, Chris.¨ His calm attitude makes me do what he says and I look at him expectantly.
     ¨Emily has Ewing Sarcoma,¨ my dad begins. ¨Its very rare, and can usually be treatable. However, Emily did not come in soon enough. She's only been with us for a year, and I suspect she's had it a lot longer. Ewing sarcoma attacks the bone cells and it attacked Emily's legs. That is why she uses a wheelchair, because her legs are too weak to support her anymore. The latest round of chemotherapy didn't work as we would have hoped...and her parents have decided to stop the treatment.¨ My dad says this last part with a sigh and I see a glimpse of pity in his eyes.
     ¨But if you can treat her, why do they want to stop it?” I ask incredulously.
     ¨Call it lack of money, or lack of love, whichever works. You met her parents briefly,¨ my dad says bitterly. I suddenly am taken back to the Day of the Dads and how scared Emily looked of her father.
     ¨Why is her cancer suddenly terminal? Two weeks ago when I met her, you said it wasn't,¨ I ask, struggling to understand. My dad heaves another sigh,
     ¨The tumors have spread to her pelvis and rib cage, and seeing as her parents won't allow chemo anymore...she doesn't have much time.¨ I hear what he's saying as if through water.
     ¨How much?¨ I ask dumbly.
     ¨Probably till the end of the summer,¨ he responds quietly. I get up suddenly and run out of his office. I hear his voice behind me but I don’t stop. I run, past nurses, past Emily’s room that was freshly painted and out the main doors. I don’t stop running till my legs collapse and I’m left shaking and coughing on the grass in front of the hospital. I notice a woman coming in with her small child and I can’t help but overhear her,
     “Don’t stare honey, he probably just received some bad news.” I almost laugh at her remark. Considering my life, I am not surprised by how this day has turned out. I don’t even know who to talk to. My thoughts automatically flick over to Dan. He was my best friend, and I feel like I don’t even know him anymore. I pick myself up, brush off my pants and walk back inside. I walk by my dad again, but he doesn’t stop me this time. He realized awhile ago that I do not come to him with my problems, however important. I walk straight up to the wrinkly woman sitting at the information desk,
     “I would like to know if Daniel Forest is out of surgery, and what room he is in,” I ask directly. The woman looked up at me through her reading glasses. I immediately brush the hair off my face so she doesn’t judge me.
     “I’m sorry, I can’t give you that information. You’re a minor,” she responds bluntly. Minor? When was that ever an issue. I hear footsteps coming up behind me,
     “It’s okay, Marge. It’s his best friend,” my dad says coming up behind me. My best friend? My dad has never referred to Dan as anything but a bad influence. I turn a surprised gaze on him but my dad only nods and walks away. The woman gives me the room number a little reluctantly, and I take the elevator up to his recovery room.
     I stand outside his room for a brief second. I don’t really want to see him, but I know I should. It’s better than waiting for Emily to get back in her room. Shaking the invading thoughts of Emily from my mind I walk into Dan’s room.
     “Hey man,” I say softly. I notice my voice is getting quieter after my time as a volunteer because that’s what patients prefer. He’s propped up on a few pillows, and when he turns to look at me it looks painful.
     “Hey...Chris. What’s...happening?” His words come in short gasps and he holds his side while he talks.
     “Broken ribs?” I ask quietly. He smiles sarcastically,
     “Yeah, don’t smoke and drive,” he chuckles weakly but then regrets it as he doubles over in pain.
     “Where were you going high like that?” I ask incredulously. “What even happened?” Dan sighs shortly and my newfound ability of pity shines through a bit. When we were twelve his brother ran away. I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I was never there for him.
     “I was going to Sam’s house,” he begins. I sigh heavily. I hate this story already. “Why do you hate him so much?” Dan snaps. I have wanted to have this conversation for so long that it takes all of my self-control not to explode,
     “He didn’t even come to her funeral. He didn’t love Lily!” I shout. Dan looks at me strangely.
     “And you did?” he says slowly. I sigh again. I’ve been sighing a lot lately. It gets more emotion across,
     “No. I didn’t know what love was,” I say quietly.
     “Do you know now?” Dan is looking at me like I’m not making any sense. I stop to think about that. No. I still don’t know what love is, but I’m starting to realize that I know more about it than Dan and Sam ever will. “Hello?” Dan says after a pause. I realize I’ve been drifting off into space this whole time.
     “No. I don’t. I do know more than you or Sam ever will though. Get well soon,” I say bitterly. I make my way towards the door. Dan calls my name but I keep walking, and walk right into Sam Jordan. This day keeps getting better and better.
     “Chris!” he yells. “Good to see you! I knew you couldn’t stay away! How are you, how was jail?” I try to brush past him but he grabs my shoulder. “What the heck man? I thought we were cool after what happened! Every man for himself right?” Without thinking I shove him off me and punch him in the jaw. He stumbles back, but doesn’t look his balance. I take his moment of confusion to walk away. I don’t stop till I get back to Emily’s room. The room seems bare and cold without her in it. The paint gives the room a bad smell, so I crack open a few windows. I walk over to her bed and lie down and stare at the ceiling. I don’t know this girl. How can I love her? I feel like every stereotypical 16 year old boy who thinks that anything is love. Maybe I didn’t love Lily, and maybe she didn’t love me. That would certainly explain why this feels so different.
     I know I need to see her. I get up and march to the nurse’s station again.The same woman is there, looking thrilled to see me.
     “Which way to the ICU?” I ask quietly. Without looking at me, she points down a hallway and I see several signs for it. I start walking till I reach the ward. It’s very clean, even by hospital standards. I walk up to the first nurse I see.
     “Excuse me? Can you tell me what room Emily is in?” I try to cover it up smoothly, but I’m shocked I don’t even know her last name.
     “Oh yes, Miss Smith, it’s the third one on the left.,” she says. “Wait, are you immediate family?” I hesitate just long enough for her to find out the answer herself. “I’m sorry, you can’t visit her then.” She looks at me sternly. I realize that it’s more important to act polite than to argue.
     “Oh. of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I say kindly. My manner shocks her slightly and she smiles at me as I turn around and start to walk away. When I consider it safe I switch directions and walk down the hallway the nurse directed. I stop at the third door and do a quick scan of the room before I enter. I see her laying on a bed and staring out the window. I walk in quickly and without knowing what I’m doing, I kneel by her and grab her hand.
      “Chris,” she whispers. She closes her eyes and squeezes my hand gently, but I see tears slowly spill onto her cheeks. I stand up and sit on the side of the bed and gently wipe them away.
     “Hey, no tears,” I say softly. She opens her eyes and looks at me and I swallow a lump in my throat. “This doesn’t change anything.” I say firmly. She looks away suddenly.
     “So you know,” she says bitterly. She takes my silence as a yes and begins to cry again. “It’s so unfair.” I look out the window so I don’t have to watch her cry.
     “I know,” I whisper. We sit like this in silence until I hear her gasp.
     “I’m actually dying,” she croaks. I whip back around to look at her and I see her cheeks wet with fresh tears.
     “Hey, you’re not dead yet. And besides, everyone’s dying. Some people are just doing it at a faster rate,” I say and gently squeeze her hand. She manages a laugh, but her eyelids droop and I see how tired she is. “Why don’t you rest?” I say rest because Emily believes that naps are for the weak. She nods and I start to get up but she holds on tight.
     “Wait, stay!” she demands weakly. I lower myself back onto the bed and swing my legs onto the bed. She leans her head on my shoulder and sighs quietly. “Do you think I’ll make it to my birthday tomorrow?” Her words slow down and I don’t answer her. We stay like that for awhile before her breathing deepens and a nurse comes in and catches me.
     “You’re not supposed to be in here,” she says after I ease away from Emily and go out into the hallway. “This is only for immediate family.” My old anger bubbles up inside of me.
     “Well I don’t see them here, do you?” I snap. With that I walk away as fast as I can and I don’t stop till I reach my dad’s office. Without even looking up from his paperwork, he seems to know it’s me. He goes into a drawer and tosses me the keys. I know I can’t go anywhere, but I know I can’t stay in this hospital a moment longer. I walk out and go sit in the car and just let the lukewarm air of the broken air conditioner wash over me. I lean my head back and let my thoughts overcome me.

I sit in front of the mirror with my dad standing behind me looking nervous. He’s holding a pair of scissors and studying my hair carefully.
     “Are you sure about this?” he asks cautiously. “I mean, I haven’t cut your hair since you were twelve.” I look in the mirror and make eye contact with him.
     “Yes, I’m sure. I need a haircut, and what better day than Emily’s birthday,” I say hurriedly. I haven’t been to the hospital in two days while she’s in the ICU and I want to get there before her so I can surprise her. The unveiling of the room and my haircut are the only presents I can giver her, so I hope she likes them. I see my dad’s sad expression and look away.
     “Okay, here we go,” he says seriously. I close my eyes and tense when I hear the first cut and I don’t open them again till he’s finished. I stand up without looking in the mirror. “Aren’t you going to look?” He asks incredulously. I just turn and look at him and say something I never thought I would again.
     “No, I trust you.” I can’t help but smile at the look on his face and walk out before he can say anything else. I sit in the car patiently and wait for him. “Hey dad,” I begin questioningly.
     “Uh oh, yeah?” he responds, sounding worried.
     “Can we stop at a flower shop?”

*    *   *
     I sit on the edge of the hospital bed anxiously, with a bouquet of roses in my hand, feeling completely ridiculous. To get my mind of the roses and my hair, I sit back and admire my paintjob. The early morning light coming in gives the color an almost seafoam hue. A pretty color, I think. Oh god, first roses and now “pretty”? Who am I? The sound of wheelchair wheels on the tile makes me raise my head. I poke my head out the door and see Min wheeling Emily with one hand and covering her eyes with the other.
     “Why are you doing this Min?” I hear her ask. “I know where we’re going!”
     “Hush, child!” Min fires back. I go back in the room and sit on the bed. As a habit I reach up to push my curls out of my face, only to realize they’re not there. They finally come into the room and I jump up and smile even though Min’s covering her eyes. I nod and Min drops her hand and Emily gasps taking in me, the flowers, and the room all at once. Her eyes get shiny as I hand her the bouquet and she closes her eyes and smells them. I wheel her over to the bed and gently pick her up and set her down. She feels like she’s getting lighter, but I push that thought out of my mind. She moves over and I sit down next to her without an invitation. Out of the corner of my eye I see Min crying and leave the room, and I can hear her sobs as she walks down the hall. Emily doesn’t seem to notice though as she keeps the flowers in one hand and grabs my hand with the other.
     “You did all this? For me?” she says. I can hear the tears in her voice and find myself not being able to make eye contact.
     “Of course,” I say and force myself to look at her. Tears are streaming down her face but she looks so happy. “Stop looking at me like that, you’re going to make me cry.” She starts to laugh, but then realizes I’m serious.
     “Well, why don’t you?” she asks. I look around the room and search for an answer. I feel her cold fingers on my face and I look at her again.
     “I haven’t cried since I was eight,” I say quietly. She doesn’t say anything, just leans her head on my shoulder and grips my hand tighter. “My mom told me it was a sign of weakness,” I continue. “I never realized she was preparing me to be brave. I...guess I needed it.” I finish weakly. I look down at her, but she is looking at the door and gripping my hand so tight it hurts. I follow her line of sight and see what I dreaded the most. Her parents.
     “You came,” she whispers weakly. The dad lurches in and I get up quickly. He barely looks at me as he makes his way toward his daughter, but as he passes me I get a whiff of alcohol. My blood runs cold. Her mother stands at the foot of the bed, forcing me to fall back against the window.
     “As if we would miss our special girl’s birthday,” her father slurred. I clench my hands at my sides and the look of fear on Emily’s face is enough to make anyone terrified. The mother reaches into her handbag and pulls out a People magazine.
     “I got you last month’s, since I couldn’t come visit you,” she says softly. Emily nods, but looks away. I get the feeling that even if her mother visited her everyday it wouldn’t change anything. I feel eyes on me and look over to see her father glaring at me.
     “So, who’s this boy, Emily?” he asks, without taking his eyes off me. “I hope you guys aren’t all sharey-carey with each other. People need their privacy.” The tone of his voice puts me on edge but suddenly Emily gasps and draws my attention away from her seething father. Emily is crying again and I realize she’s trying to pry her father’s hand off her wrist.
     “Hey, sir!” I snap. “You’re hurting her!” Without thinking I lunge towards him. I have no idea what I’m doing until I tackle him, wrenching his grip off Emily. One swift movement and he has me by the arm and as his fist connects with my head, I see stars. He’s shoves me again and this time I fall onto the corner of the bed and bust my lip. I vaguely hear Emily screaming but all I can focus is the metallic taste of blood in my mouth and my throbbing head. I stay on the floor, on all knees, until I see a flurry of shoes come and drag Emily’s dad away. In what seems like an hour someone kneels by me and I’m looking into Min’s concerned eyes.
     “Honey, what happened?” she says concerned. I start to answer but it hurts to talk. “Hush, don’t talk if it hurts.” With her help I stand up and sit on one of the plastic chairs. She walks away to get some bandages and my dad. Blood from my temple is starting to drip into my eyebrow and I quickly swipe it away. Emily. I look over at her bed and she is sobbing uncontrollably. I get up painfully and make my way over to her.
     “Chris,” she says with a gasp and starts crying all over again. I don’t know what I look like right now, but I imagine it’s pretty terrible. She starts hiccuping from crying so much and I gently sit down and wrap my arms around her. She cries into my shoulder.
     “I’m so sorry, this is all my f-fault!” she mumbles into my shoulder. The fact that she is apologizing right now is almost too much. I gently pull her away and take my face in my hands.
     “None of this is your fault,” I whisper fiercely. My tone of voice stops her crying. I dry her tears with my thumbs until I realize they have some blood on them. “Did he hurt your arm?” She laughs unexpectedly.
     “Me? You’re bleeding all over the place and you’re asking me if I’m hurt? You’re unbelievable,” she says shaking her head. Before I think about all the things that could go wrong I lean in and kiss her. I love her. The time I’ve spent with her is nothing like with Lily. I don’t care that she’s sick. I don’t care that our days are numbered. I only care about her. She suddenly pulls back and I wonder if I’m too impulsive.
     “Chris… This isn’t going to be a bed of roses. I’m dying,” she explains. I look at her incredulously. How can she not understand?
     “Emily. I love you.” She looks away with new tears.
     “You’ve known me for two months,” she says quietly. I laugh slightly.
     “I think I knew after the first day,” I say honestly. She needs to understand. That’s the only thing I can think of. “I don’t need a bed of roses. I got you some remember?” I look around and sadly I see the bouquet lying on the ground from the fight. I reach down and grab them and hand them back to her. She looks up at me with something that can only be described as bliss.
     “I love you too. I have since the day we met, and I’ll love you till the day I die,” she says seriously. I have nothing to say, so I just stare at her, grinning like a fool. A slight cough from the doorway puts me on alert again, but it’s just Min. Looking embarrassed, but very happy. I sit patiently as she fixes my head. Whatever she’s using to stop the bleeding stings, but Emily is holding onto my hand and I don’t feel a thing.
     “What happened?” I hear my dad whisper. I probably look terrible because my dad can barely look at me. Thankfully Min speaks up.
     “That monster of a man hurt Emily and when Chris stepped in to stop him… Well, you see the result,” she finishes, gesturing to my face. My dad looks pained.
     “You thought you could take him on? What were you thinking?” I look at Emily.
     “I guess I wasn’t thinking,” I say. But I’m lying. My head has never been clearer. Min finishes my cuts and has to drag my dad away before he fires anymore disapproving looks my way. As much as I want to, I can’t get the terrified look on Emily’s face out of my head.
     “Emily I need to know. Is your dad like that all the time? What happened to you?” I ask desperately. She looks away. I expect her to start crying again, but instead she grows hard and stone faced.
     “My dad… is abusive. He hits me and my mom, and he drinks a lot. My mom and I tried to leave once, but he threatened to kill us. He pointed a gun at us! I didn’t even know he owned one. Then one day my legs started to hurt and it was… like this deep ache and I knew it wasn’t normal. My mom wanted to take me to the hospital but my dad thought they’d find out about… his abuse. One night, my mom was out of town and he was asleep on the couch so I grabbed a knife and cut my leg with it. I woke up my dad and showed him saying I tripped down the stairs. He hates the sight of blood so I called an ambulance for myself and they stitched up my leg. I told them about my pain and they ran some tests and I was diagnosed with Ewing’s Sarcoma. It wasn’t not fatal… and now it is!” She doesn’t cry and it scares me. I haven’t cried in years, but she seems like she needs to. Her life is not how I pictured it.
     “When were you diagnosed?”
     “A little over a year ago,” she says. I feel sick. She had to endure that for fifteen years before coming here.
     “You can’t tell anyone,” she’s calm now, but I’m not. I angry, and I don’t even know why. It’s not my business.
     “Why not? They know now” I yell. She shushes me,
     “Please, Chris, please! He’ll kill me, he’ll kill my mom. Please! Please don’t! Forget I told you. I shouldn’t have. Everything was better when I kept my mouth shut!”
     “Never say that,” I say softly. She stops and stares at me, her eyes so sad, “I should stop thinking I have it so bad.” She laughs and an uncried tear drips off her chin and lands on my hand. I stare at it a moment before wiping it off. “This right here?” I say gesturing to the room. “This is ours. Everything that we have, right now is permanent. Not permanently on this Earth, but in our hearts. This is our little piece. Our piece of paradise.” I look down at her to see her eyelids fluttering. “Sorry, am I boring you with my dreams?” I ask teasingly.
     “Sorry. I love you,” she says softly. “Will you sleep here with me? Tonight? Nothing like that,” she says laughing, looking at my face. “It’s just that… I get nightmares.”
     “Of course,” I say quietly. “I’ll stay as long as you need.” Gentle snoring makes me smile. She’s already asleep on my shoulder.

Every night after that I wound up sleeping over. It sounds so innocent. Like something a child would do. The nurses have gotten used to finding me there, and they know that nothing happens. I wake up before her every next morning. I have a constant pain in my neck from staying in the same position. If I’m not propped up on the bed, I’m falling asleep in a plastic chair. I don’t like to move because she looks so peaceful. This morning a nurse comes in and glares and me when I shoo her away. I don't sleep very well anymore, so it usually leaves me grouchy. Every time Emily cries out I wake up bewildered. I didn’t know she cried in her sleep. I guess it’s her way of letting her feelings out. I feel her stir against me but she doesn’t wake up. I look at her and I’m struck again by how pretty she is. I’m so happy she’s mine. For now. I push those thoughts out of my head as she wakes up and sighs.
     “Hi,” I whisper. She smiles up at me and goes to stretch but thinks better of it as she flinches. “Pain?”
     “No, not much. Not when I’m with you,” she says smiling. Over the past couple weeks she’s been in more pain, but neither of us mention it. No one ever wants to mention time running out.
     “What do you want to do today?” I ask. She looks at me shocked. “Where do you want to go?” I rephrase. For a moment I think she didn’t hear me.
     “You know where I haven’t been in awhile?” she asks suddenly.
     “Where?” I ask right away. I don’t care if it’s Paris, I’ll get her there.
     “Outside,” she says. My heart breaks. I look out the window and see the sun shining. The August breeze moves the tree outside her window. I can already tell it’s a nice day out.
     “Alright, then outside we shall go,” I say in a fake British accent. She giggles as I pick her up and twirl her around before setting her in her chair. Before we even get ten feet out the door we’re stopped by Min.
     “I must be havin’ deja vu,” she says.
     “We’re just going outside for some air,” I say quickly.
     “I would say there’s air in here but I’m sure that’s not the answer you’re looking for,” she says laughing. I roll my eyes but allow myself to smile.
     “Thanks Min,” I say gratefully. I continue pushing her down the hallway till we reach the doors to the hospital garden. I wheel her onto the grass but the wheels get stuck in the mud halfway through. “This is clearly not working.” I say, trying to make the wheels turn. Suddenly, I get an idea. I pick her up and walk her over to a patch of grass and lay her down. I lie down next to her and we just stare at the clouds.
     “What happens after?” Emily suddenly asks. “You know, after I die.” I turn my head to look at her, but she’s studying a cloud like she’s trying to decide what shape it is.
     “You go to heaven,” I say simply. She laughs harshly.
     “I don’t know if there is such a place,” she says coldly. I don’t want to get caught up in a debate about the afterlife.
     “I don’t care about after,” I say slowly. “This is enough for me. I’m not looking for an after.”
     “Don’t talk like that. There’s going to be an after. There was a before! I remember you mention her. There’s going to be an after. Promise me there’s going to be an after.” I don’t look at her but I know she’s crying. I sit up and pull her up with me. I do it slowly because lately everything has to be slow but I don’t mind. I reach into my pocket and pull out a set of keys. My dad has been giving me more freedom back, and keys to the house is the starting point. Methodically I take all the keys off the ring until I’m left with two empty rings. One from the car and one from the house. I take her hand and look into her green eyes. The eyes that once scared me, now seem to look right through me.
     “What are you doing?” she interrupts. I shush her quickly. I look at the two rings in my palm. Without thinking I slip one onto her finger. Her fingers have become so thin that I have to hold it there to keep it on. The familiar lump in my throat rises up again.
     “This is a promise ring. I promise that there will be an after, even though it pains me to say it. As long as, you promise to believe in an after for yourself,” I say seriously. I brace myself for her to laugh at me but instead she takes the other ring and puts it around my finger.
     “I promise,” she says kissing me.
*   *   *
     I wake up to Emily shaking my arm. I wipe the sleep out of my eyes and look at the clock. When it registers that it’s the middle of the night I take a good look at her face. I do a doubletake when I realize it’s etched in pain.
     “What’s wrong?” I ask urgently. I fumble for the call button, but she grips my wrist with such force that it shocks me.
     “Don’t!” she says hoarsely. “Just. Stay. Please.” I shift my arm so that I wrap around her, as she curls up and cries into my shirt. “I love you,” she mumbles. I close my eyes and lean into her.
     “I love you too,” I say.

She died that night. In my arms. I woke up, and my world stopped. I stand in a church I’ve never been to, in a suit I’ve never worn, surrounded by people I’ve never met.
     “It’s a good turnout,” my dad says, walking up to my. “She touched many people’s lives in and out of the hospital.” I nod absentmindedly. The service is over and a few people are remaining in the chapel. Min is one of them. Crying inconsolably. I tried to talk to her, but once again the familiar lump happened again. I flinch at a delicate touch on my shoulder and I’m shocked to see Emily’s mom. She nods to the empty seat next to me and she takes my silence for a yes.
     “I wanted to say thank you,” she says, almost so quietly I almost can’t hear. “You loved her in a way that we never could. We didn’t deserve her as parents. I see that now.” She finishes quietly. For the first time, I study her carefully. Rather than a monster, I see a woman who’s been treated awfully.
     “I didn’t deserve her either,” I say truthfully. She smiles at me sadly. I don’t see her husband anywhere, but I don’t ask. I don’t want to know.
     After spending sometime staring at the stained glass in the windows, I stand up and walk towards my dad. Before I get there I’m stopped again. I assume it’s Min, but I turn around and almost pass out. It’s my mother.
     “Mom?” I ask disbelievingly. She hasn’t changed much. A little more gray hairs, a few more wrinkles, but she’s the same woman that was my rock. Until that rock was split in two. “What are you doing here?” I ask bitterly. She gives me the sad smile that many people say I get from her.
     “Your father called me. Said today might be a day that you need your mother,” she says simply, as if I ran into her at the grocery store. “Clearly you’ve taken my advice. No tears. That’s my strong son.” I laugh, and it sounds so harsh I surprise myself.
     “I haven’t needed you in a long time, Courtney!” I say fiercely. She fades a little bit.
     “I’m sorry about your friend. Didn’t another one of yours die too?” she asks innocently.
     “Yes. She did. She was my girlfriend, and the only person who’s dead to me… is you.” With that I walk over to my dad. He sees me coming and opens his arms and without hesitation, I walk into them. The lump in my throat comes back, but rather than swallow it down, I do something that I haven’t done in ten years. I cry.