Summerfield (17 page)

"I should probably fight, huh?"
The looks of surprise by my sudden change of subject seemed to only
last a second before it was replaced by understanding. "You should. You’re really young, Belle. You’re too young to die. Your mom would agree. So would your dad. And I know more than anything he’d want you to fight and he’s
outside. I'm going to send him in so you can talk to him."
"Wait!" I shouted as Dr. Harvance made a move for the door. "I'm not
totally sure that he knows about...all of this." I said, gesturing to
myself with my good hand.
"He does." He responded sternly. "He read your note." Pretty sure
doctor was glaring at me now.
I bit my lip and looked away under his intense stare. "What?"
"You told him you were running away because you were sick and dying in
a note?"
"Hey, I'm seventeen and I was scared. And if I wasn't such a sucky
driver I would have gotten away with it."
He shook his head, giving me that look again. "Not likely."
Another thought sprung to mind that caught me off caught and afraid.
"Wait, I was in a car accident. Was anyone else involved?"
"No, you swerved to miss hitting a deer and ran into a tree. Belle,
you must have an angel up there looking over you."
"Yeah." I whispered, not noticing the smile appearing on my face. I let out a long breath. "I guess I'm ready to own up to my dad."
He nodded, making his way for the door again before turning around
with a hint of a smirk that he was trying to hide. "There's a button
by your bed to call the nurse in case your dad tries to strangle you."
"Hardy har har." I mused, pouting.
He chuckled again, leaving the room.
The door opened again a minute later to reveal my devastated looking
father. I don't think I had ever seen him this....torn up. His eyes
were piercing into mine, looking red and puffy, like he had been
crying. His face was flushed and he looked terrified.
"Hi, Dad." I greeted quietly, almost shyly. He said nothing, just
continued to stare. I figured this would be the hardest part. "Okay,
before you say anything I know that the way I told you about things
was totally wrong and stupid and you didn't deserve that. I was mad
though, and...I was scared." By now my eyes were set sternly on the
ground, afraid to see his reaction to my words. "I haven't quite
wrapped my mind around this whole thing yet, and I didn’t know how to
tell you. Or if I even could because I knew you would be," I paused,
glancing at him. His features were the same, just a tad softer than
before. I had never seen him like this and it was slowly starting to
break my heart all over again. "Devastated."
I was still starring to the floor when I felt a pair of arms wrap
around me carefully, but tightly. I grabbed on to Dad's shirt with
what little might I had, clinging to him as I buried my face in his
shoulder. If I had the energy or the extra tears I would most likely
be sobbing right now.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, still holding tightly to him.
I head him take a shaky breathe. "So am I."
And we just stayed like that, for minutes, for hours, I wasn't sure. I
couldn't remember every needed him more than right then. In that short
time all of my feelings resentment and unfairness I had felt for the
past year suddenly began to fade away, like glass that shattered,
falling to the ground. But for the first time I didn't see it landing.
I couldn't feel it cutting me. It was just gone, away from thought
and view.
Suddenly all the good things I had tried to push away, convincing
myself that it wasn't worth remember came flooding with the one hug.
All those late night nightmares when I would go crying into mom and
dad's room. Dad was always the first up, and he would take me
downstairs and pour me a glass of water, and told me no matter
what, that everything would always be okay. When I was young, and
everything seemed so small and unimportant, he always brought the most
comfort. But when it came to Mom, I realized Dad was
just afraid. And I couldn't hold that against him anymore.
I don't know how long it was before we seperated, but it seemed like
hours had passed by. He sat at my side, holding onto my hand,
squeezing it every few minutes.
When I began to settle down again, and gained a little energy, I just
wanted to know things. Things I thought I needed to know. I wanted to
know about Mom. "Dad..." I spoke slowly, carefully, as I examined my
hand in his.
"Yeah?" He asked, his voice a little emotional and choked up, but
still gentle. It was rough, like he was having a hard time speaking at
all. "What is it?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
I bit my lip. "Why did you never....talk to me?" I paused for a
moment, collecting my thoughts. "I mean, about Mom."
He didn't even seemed off guard. He probably figured that now there
was nothing to lose if speaking about it. Before, I had always kind of
imagined it being a wall between us. And maybe now, he
figured that shattering it was the best way to make things better. "I
was wounded." He said, which surprised me. "I thought keeping it all
locked away was the best thing. I didn't want to pour any salt on it,
you know?"
"But Ben said you talked about her with him. Why not me?"
He squeezed my hand again. "You were wounded too. And I'm different,
Belle. I'm different than you and your mom. I don't talk so easily
about my feelings. Maybe I was telling Ben those things because he
never knew any different. He didn't know her. And to talk to you, it
would break my heart, Belle." He took another shaky breathe, and his
eyes drooped to the floor. "You look just like her. So sweet and
beautiful. You hold so much of her. Looking into your eyes, just the
same color and the same kind of sparkle as hers...I couldn't stand it.
After she died, I could barely look at you. All I saw was her." I
couldn't see his eyes, but I heard a small, chocked back sob escape
his lips.
"Dad," I tried to sooth. This time I squeezed his hand.
"You loved everything she did. Buttercup was her favorite horse.
Spring was her favorite season. Blue was her favorite color. Root beer
was her favorite drink. And when it rained, it was her favorite days.
Everything you are seemed to be a part of her. And it was hard for
me, because I wanted to forget. That's why I sent you to Lavance I guess. I was trying to protect you. I didn't want you to hurt like I had. That includes why I was afraid of your relationship with Ben. When you fall in love Belle...the entire world is changed. Your mom was my first and only love, and I lost her. I didn't want you to
have to feel that, because things don't always work out like it did
with me and your mom. When you're young you don't usually end up
together forever. You breakup, you have your heartbroken. I thought I
could protect you, if only for a while, from that."
By now I was crying, tears silently falling onto the hospital bed
sheets. "I'm in love with Ben." I whispered. It was nice to be honest
about it for the first time.
He nodded and looked up at me, carefully. He looked at me as if I were
transforming right in front of his eyes. "I know." He said softly. "I
know."
This time I took a shaky breath. "I didn't want to have to put him
through this. I didn't want to put any of you through this.”

And I lost it all over again.
***
Dad had spent an hour or so in the room with me, talking about
everything. We talked about the possibilities, and though he wasn't
happy that I had chosen to not have the treatment, he understood and
accepted it. Though he hadn't fully opened up about everything, he had
let me in a bit more. He explained that he was just having a hard time
trying to get it in his head. I think, though, he was just trying to
deny it. Like I had at first and possibly still was.
And we talked about Ben. Obviously Dad wasn't going to let me go back
to Lavance, and Ben still had his job and I would be seeing him. He
agreed that Ben and I could do what we wished to do, but he wasn't
very enthused about it. I assured him though that Ben and I were
pretty much over, and that I didn't want to put him through watching
me suffer through treatment, even if at the end of it I was okay and healthy again.
Dad had simply shaken his head, gave me a kiss on the forehead and
went to find Ben, who had been at the hospital with them since I was brought in, so I could talk to him.
Now, here comes the butterflies. I needed to face Ben now.
And I could have sworn it was a couple of seconds before my heart
started up again after I saw Ben walk through the door.
He looked a bit more put together and collected than my dad, but he
looked disbelieving.
Why couldn't I have just died in that accident? Wouldn't that have
been easier than having the pain I was feeling now? My body and my
heart.
It was a while before he sat himself down next to me and finally
looked up at meet my eyes. And it was an even longer while before
either of us spoke, but finally, I decided that I needed to end the
silence. Just staring at him staring at me was unbearable. I
couldn't read his eyes-for once.
"Sorry." I cast my eyes to the blanket that covered me as I lay in the
hospital bed. I was unbelievably uncomfortable at the moment and not
just because everything on my body hurt.
He blinked for a long while before opening his eyes, then glancing at
the wall, and back at him. "For what, exactly?"
His voice was almost foreign to me. There was no gentle edge or soft
tone. It was rough and far away.
I gulped, the butterflies suddenly taken over every aspect of my
being. "For everything. The note especially."
"Why didn’t you tell me, Belle?" His blue eyes stared into mine deeply, with
intensity and question. "You write me this note," He paused, digging in his pocket and bringing out the
crumpled and read version of the note I had given him. He shook his
head, looking from me to the note and back again. "You broke up with
me-"
"You broke up with me." I corrected, matter-of-factly. Though now was
a bad time to dwell on that, I felt the need to defend myself.
He held up a hand, shaking his head. "That's not even what I want to
talk about. Belle, just tell me what's going on. Explain it."
I eyed the note carefully and then looked back to the ground, not
able to explain it. "It was the only way I knew to tell you."
 

He continued to look at me expectantly, so I continued. "I found out a while back. Before, when I was sick and fainting and having those headaches and things...I was sick. And then I was really afraid. Not even of dying really, but of telling you or my dad or anyone. I was so scared of the reaction and of saying it out loud because I really didn't want to accept it at all."
The only thing he did was blink as he starred mindlessly at the wall,
probably without realizing he was doing it.
"Say something." I whispered, feeling very insecure at the moment.
He let out a breath and opened his mouth to speak, but closed it only
seconds later. He rubbed his hand against his jeans in an anxious
manner, still starring at the wall. "You're..." His voice stuttered in
disbelief, his eyes shifting. "Is there treatment?”
I nodded slowly, nibbling at my lower lip. "Well, yeah, but-"
"Belle, then you could come out of this okay?"
I shook my head, denying it. "I could. Or I couldn’t. There aren’t any guarantees."
He ran his hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath.
"Why wouldn't you tell me?"
I shrugged, nervously ringing my hands. "Because I'm seventeen, dying,
and scared more than anything else. Maybe even a little stupid." I said as he buried his face in
his hands. "You know, you don't have to have anything to do with this.
I mean, we aren't together anymore and I would understand you not
wanting to put up with all this stuff." I noticed he had stopped
squirming, meaning that he was listening. "You can leave anytime, you
know. You don't have to stay."
Now that, nearly killed me.
He uncovered his face and slowly lifted his eyes to mine. This time
they were red, blurred, and clouded by tears. He took a shaking
breathe, taking a gentle grasp of my hand. "You're not getting rid of
me that easily, Belle." This time he looked straight into my eyes. "I
love you. That isn't changing."
Chapter Fifteen
Oh, crikes. It was difficult trying to walk with crutches while having
your wrist wrapped up and in poor shape. Two weeks after the accident
and my wrist was the only thing that was better. But the reality, as
harsh as it was, I was still injured and I was still sick. I think
the only real time I finally came in terms with it was when Ella
had lent me her laptop so that I could keep entertained during my
stay, and one night I just started looking up everything about cancer.
The symptoms, the treatments, and the life expectancy. And that night I
just laid there and cried for hours. I had finally accepted it. And I came to peace with it. But I felt bad for Dad and Ben.