It's time for
The Peasants Revolt Flashback Blog Hop, hosted by the amazing Fel Witzig. Fel had a blog birthday last week, and she's recruited us to help her celebrate by traveling back to January 2012 and sharing what we were up to then.
Last January, I was neck deep in research for my graduate school exit exams. Between scouring legal databases and stressing over whether or not I would finish on time, I began playing around with a story titled
Heart Song, about a young woman who finds love and the desire to live again while caring for a little boy dying of cancer.
Not long after beginning
Heart Song, an extraordinary little boy came into my life. His smile was absolutely beautiful, and he was so soft spoken and polite. He was such a sweet little boy. He was only nine, and he was dying of cancer when I met him. He and his family lived at the House where I worked for the last couple months of his life so he could be near the hospital without having to spend his last weeks of life away from his family.
He passed away late last spring.
Last Wednesday was my last official day at work, so I've been thinking a lot about all of the incredibly special children I've met during my time there, and this little boy, who we will call John, was at the top of the list of those who've touched my life. I thought it fitting to share part of the story I was writing when I met him with all of you now in honor of
The Peasants Revolt's Flashback Blog Hop and all of the special children I was blessed to meet last year. Many of them are gone now, but they definitely have not been forgotten.
If you're a crier, you might need tissues.
Heart Song: Chapter One Excerpt
Laughter
broke the silence as I made my way down the long hall. My shoulders were
hunched, and I had my hands buried into the pockets of my jeans. I tried to
ignore the butterflies swimming in my stomach, focusing instead of the petite
blonde walking a few feet ahead of me.
What was so
funny?
Part of me
wanted to tap the woman on the shoulder and ask. The other part wanted to be
her . . . able to walk down this hall and laugh like I didn't know what was
going on behind the doors lining the hall.
I did know
though. How could I not?
The white
tile beneath my feet screamed of one too many coats of wax. The bright mural
painted on the walls had faded over the years until the once happy scenes now
seemed sad and full of sorrow. The entire area smelled of rubbing alcohol and
industrial strength cleaner. Each served as a reminder that there was nothing
funny happening here.
So did the massive
"Pediatric Oncology" sign plastered over the double doors at the end
of the ward.
The woman turned at an intersecting hallway,
leaving me to troop forward on my own.
I waved at
the familiar man behind the nurse's desk. "Hey, Todd," I said,
speaking softly when I noticed the phone clutched between his ear and shoulder.
“Chloe!”
I stopped
walking and turned to face him as he hissed my name. He held up a finger,
indicating I should wait a minute. I nodded
and stepped nearer the desk, glancing around as I waited.
The ward
was quieter than normal. No doctors hurrying up and down the halls. No nurses
scurrying with that overworked look of exhaustion on their faces. No patients
peeking around their doors. I didn't know if the quiet was a good thing though.
I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
“Hey.” Todd
offered me a terse smile, depositing the phone back on the receiver. “You going
to see Lee?”
“Yeah."
I hesitated. "How is he today?”
Todd blew
out a breath and gave me a sad smile. "The same," he said.
I sighed
heavily and nodded. I hadn’t really expected him to answer any differently, but
I'd hoped he would anyway. Lee Masters was only eight. Far too young to be
losing to cancer.
“Dr. Morris
stopped by a little bit ago. He’d like to speak to you before you leave.”
“Dr. Morris?”
I blinked. I knew who Dr. Morris was, but I'd never really talked to him
before. I was a volunteer. He was the Chief Oncologist. We passed each other in
the halls, but that was about it. “Is Lee worse?”
Todd
shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll page Morris when you come out.”
“Yeah . . .
sure.” I started down the hall again, my mind spinning through worries about
why Dr. Morris might want to speak with me. Was Lee worse? Or was I being
busted for visited him after my shift every day?
As I neared
Lee's room, I hoped it was the latter. I could deal with a pink slip for
breaking the rules. I couldn't deal with Lee getting sicker. In the month I'd
been visiting him, the toll cancer was taking on him had become increasingly evident.
He'd lost weight. The innocent light in his eyes was dimmer. Each day, he looked
a little worse.
I scrubbed
quickly at the sink outside his door, donning the required suit and sanitizing
the few items I was allowed to carry in with me. That list was short, but it’d
grown in recent days, the rules becoming more lax where things like stuffed
animals were concerned. Everyone
that visited him knew that wasn’t a good thing.
I took a deep breath
and shoved all of my worries down before I pushed open his door.
"Hi,
Lee." I smiled behind my mask as I stepped into the depressingly cheerful
room and caught sight of him in the standard hospital bed. My heart did that
half hurt, half happy thing I still wasn't accustomed to feeling. I didn't
think I would ever be accustomed to it, but every time I stepped through the
door and saw the wan little boy hooked up to monitors and IV lines, I felt the
same dichotic, heartrending tug in my chest.
Lee raised
his head from the pillow and scrutinized my expression for a minute, his brown
eyes as wide and serious as ever in his pale, jaundiced face. "Chloe,"
his little voice greeted me just as seriously as those eyes gazed at me. He
looked, and sounded, so tired.
That seemed
to be the case a little more every day, too. The purple shadows beneath his
eyes were getting darker every day; his skin was taking on an increasingly
yellowish tinge. And the oxygen tank behind him bubbled a little faster every
day too.
I stifled a
sigh at these telltale signs of his condition and pulled the door closed behind
me, promising myself I could cry later. "I brought you something," I
said, taking my customary seat beside the bed. My tone sounded off even to my
own ears.
Lee
noticed. He tilted his head to one side as he eyed me. "You always bring
me things," he reminded me as I settled in, placing the small yellow bag
on the floor beside my slippered feet.
I hated the
yellow paper slippers I had to wear into his room almost as much as the yellow
paper gown and mask. They screamed the truth
at me, and I didn't want to hear it.
Lee was
dying. His lungs and liver were failing him and modern medicine had given up trying
to save him. Days, weeks . . . eventually, and all too soon, one or the other
would fail him altogether and the intelligent little boy I’d come to adore in
the last weeks would be gone.
It wasn’t
fair.
"True,"
I agreed with a nod, trying hard to keep the sadness from reaching him this
time. It wasn't good for him to get that from me too. This was play time. He
got plenty of serious from every other adult in his life, and he had enough
sadness and sorrow without me adding mine to the burden already on his frail
shoulders. "I think you'll like this one."
"You
always say that too," he pointed out, shifting in his bed to face me.
"And
I'm always right." I managed to grin this time, reaching out and pulling
his IV pole closer so the line didn't tug. He did the same for the oxygen line,
flipping it over his shoulder so the line would slacken and keep the cannulas
from digging into his skin.
"You
could be wrong this time though."
"Hmm."
I pretended to consider that, tapping my forefinger on my chin before shaking
my head and smiling again. "I'm never wrong. It's statistically
impossible."
"My
father said there's a first time for everything," he warned.
"Did
he?"
"Yes."
He nodded again, eyes wide and solemn. "He said that the first time my
mother was wrong."
"Lee!"
I threw my head back as genuine laughter burbled up and out at his response.
"You're impossible! Funny, but impossible."
He didn't
laugh with me, but I hadn't really expected him to either. He never laughed and
rarely smiled. In fact, he'd only smiled twice in the last week. Two smiles.
The
reminder broke my heart. My laughter died in my throat. Lee was such a selfless
kid. He loved to make me laugh, but laughing when I knew he wouldn't join in
was so hard. He knew what was happening to him, maybe better than I did. He
never talked about it, never showed fear. He was just . . . serious. Gravely
quiet and earnest.
Was it any
wonder my heart did that dance between breaking when I saw him deteriorating
and lightening when I saw that he was still with us?
I’d never
really liked kids and wasn’t even sure how I’d managed to find myself volunteering
at the hospital or sitting at his bedside every afternoon, but I liked Lee.
Sitting with him had been good for me in some strange, alternative universe
kind of way. I was
watching him die, and it was awful and so impossibly unfair, but I wasn’t the
same angry person I’d been when I walked through his door a month ago.
“Want to
see your present?” I asked softly after a minute.
“It’s a
good one?” he asked, tugging his bright blue comforter around him.
“The best
one,” I promised, smiling at him again even though he couldn’t see my mouth
behind the mask.
He
pretended to think about it for a minute and then nodded. “I’d like to see it
then,” he said.
I reached
into the bag and put my hand around the journal I’d gotten him. Lee loved to
read, write and draw. “Close your eyes,” I said.
He obeyed instantly.
I pulled
out the journal and sat it on his lap. “Okay, open them.”
His serious brown eyes popped open and
landed on the journal. He traced the loops and swirls of his initials embossed
on the front with one finger, his expression completely blank.
“Lee?” I
asked when he just continued to stare down at the leather. “Do you like it?”
He nodded
once. “It has my initials.”
“It does. I
thought you might like something to write and draw in that you can keep with
you.”
He finally
glanced up from the journal. "Thank you, Chloe."
I smiled at
his quiet gratitude. Everything about him was so quiet. So wise. Had he always
been the same far-too-old little boy?
My smile
slipped, tears threatening again at the realization that disease had probably
stripped him of his immaturity. I reached into my bag again and retrieved an
ink pen before handing it over to him. "Would you like to start your first
story in it?"
He eyed the
pencil for a minute and then shook his head slowly. "I already know it."
"Do
you?" I sat the pencil on the table tray beside the bed and leaned back in
my chair. "Share it with me?"
"You
won’t like it," he warned.
"Try
me."
Lee looked
at me again and then set the journal on the tray table beside the pen. "Once
upon a time there was a princess," he started, lying back against his
pillows and staring up at the ceiling, his expression inscrutable. "Her
name was Samantha. She had pretty hair and laughed a lot."
I waited
for him to continue, but a full minute later, he still hadn't spoken again.
"What happened next?" I prompted him.
He didn't
say anything as he continued to stare up at the ceiling with that same blank expression.
"Lee?"
"She
grew up," he whispered then and blinked his eyes rapidly.
His timid
tone and the message behind those words ripped my heart to pieces. Tears burned
at my eyes.
"Chloe?"
he said while I swiped at face, not wanting him to see me cry. For some reason,
it was important to me that he not see me cry.
I reached
for his hand and squeezed gently. "Yeah,
Lee?" I whispered, my voice rough.
"I’m not going
to grow up."
* * *
I stopped writing
Heart Song after John passed away. I think I will always remember him when I think of this story, and it will always be a little closer than I expected when I began writing it.. Maybe someday I'll be able to pick it up again, but for now I still haven't found the heart to do so. I wanted to share it with all of you, however, in honor of all the children like John who have touched my life in the last year. The lessons I learned from them and their families will stay with me for a very long time.
You can help celebrate kids just like them by entering the Flashback giveaway below. One winner will receive "Logan", an adorable teddy bear from St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. There are many other fabulous prizes up for grabs too. :)
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Please hop on over to the other Flashback participants (linked below) and check out what they have in store for you this week, too!
xoxo,
Ayden
Fade - The Ragnarok Prophesies: Book One - On Sale at: Amazon US |
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