“Confirm the diagnosis…so, are you saying you might be incorrect, it might not be cancer? You only did one blood draw, it could be wrong, couldn’t it?” Pam’s voice is laced with desperation, her eyes wide and glazed over with tears.
“I can’t say at this stage that it is categorically leukemia, but I can tell you that we are fairly positive that this is what we are dealing with.” She leans forward and passes a handful of tissues over the desk. “We are going to step outside for a moment and give you a few minutes to let the news settle, then we can discuss the next steps.” They rise in unison and one by one the doctors leave the room. I find myself wanting to scream, punch, and tear this whole horrid room apart. This isn’t right. She can’t have cancer—we’re only fifteen.
Emily’s sobs stop as she draws back from her mom and looks at her. Tears have stained her cheeks and mascara has smudged a dirty grey line under her red-rimmed eyes.
“Momma, am I going to die?” She sounds completely broken. I’m not sure if it’s because she actually is, or because I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. I suddenly feel overwhelmingly dizzy. I imagine this is what an out-of-body experience is like. I don’t feel like myself, I feel as though I’m watching this unfold from somewhere else. The sound of heartbreak is clear in Pam’s voice as she tries to comfort Emily, but I can’t help noticing that she didn’t say no.
My body shudders as a chill races down my spine; every nerve ending feels like it’s on fire. Surely this can’t be happening.
“Don’t think like that, Em, You’ll be fine,” I tell her, although there’s not much conviction in my voice. “Whatever happens, it will all work out okay, you’ll see.”
She looks at me with the most petrified expression I’ve ever seen, I’m sure it will haunt me for the rest of my life. “You promise?”
I stiffen at her question; I’m not in the habit of making promises that I can’t keep. I cross my fingers and silently pray to myself that my next words will turn out to be the truth. “Yes Em.” I tell her. “I promise.”
Present
I SEE A car pull into the drive from my spot on the sofa. It’s a quarter after one and I’m finishing up my calculus homework before I head over to see Emily. My stomach drops as I see the person getting out of the mystery car—Em’s nurse.
I close my laptop and make my way to the front door to greet her, feeling as though I’m on autopilot. My whole body is full of dread as I open the door and make eye contact with a very somber-looking Carla.
“I’m afraid I have some sad news, Blair. Maybe we should go inside so you can sit down.”
I realize I’m just standing in the doorway unable to move; I haven’t even said hello. I’m not sure that I trust my voice not to break if I speak. There’s only one reason she would be here.
My hands immediately start to feel sweaty and a knot forms in my throat, restricting the amount of air I can take in and it feels as if my lungs are about to combust.
“She’s died, hasn’t she?”
All I can focus on is that I wasn’t there for her. I was supposed to go see her last night but I had so much schoolwork I put it off until this afternoon. Nurse Carla takes my clammy hand in hers and squeezes ever so slightly, her expression grim and full of sorrow.
“Yes, sweetie, she died yesterday at home where she wanted to be, with her family. I’m so, so sorry, Blair.”
The sob that I’ve been trying like hell to hold onto is ripped out of me and I gasp for a breath while Carla leads me back into the living room. I feel like I’m about to crumble as I make my way across the room and over to the fireplace mantle that’s decorated with pictures of my best friend and me.
I feel my brain suddenly kick back into gear as I register what she just said.
“She died yesterday, when?” I tense and wait for her answer. My best friend could have been dead for twenty-four hours and I’ve been sitting here reading calculus textbooks none the wiser. I’m so mad but I don’t know where to place my anger, at my math teacher for giving out extra homework, at the Wilson’s for not calling me and letting me know it was time, or at myself. I should have visited her yesterday like I was supposed to. Now it’s too late.
“It was just before midnight, she went peacefully and she wouldn’t have been in any pain.”
I hadn’t even thought about that. I take a deep breath and feel my shoulders relax a little.
“She’s dead,” I say to myself, and then look up into Nurse Carla’s eyes. They’re filled with unshed tears. I’m sure this isn’t the first time she’s had to deliver this kind of news, but I don’t suppose it gets any easier.
I can hear the next-door neighbor’s little girls playing in the yard. They remind me of Emily and me, They’re always laughing, and normally it makes me smile, but today I want to shout at them to stop. There’s no reason to laugh right now, no reason to smile. For them it’s just another day. Not for me, though. I know with absolute certainty that whenever I look back on today, I’ll be reminded of the loss of my best friend. It will all be tucked away neatly in my mind, every last excruciating detail.
“Sweetie, is your mom at work? Should I call her, so she can come be with you?”
I drop my head and squeeze my eyes tight, hoping to stop the steady flow of tears that seem to be escaping despite my best efforts.
“No, I’m fine. There’s no need to call her. I’m eighteen, not twelve, it’s not like I wasn’t expecting Emily to die, I knew it was coming.”
“Just because you were expecting it, Blair, doesn’t mean that it won’t still affect you. She was your best friend.” She sighs and carries on. “I told Emily’s mom that I would come and tell you. The Wilson’s are obviously very upset, but Pam wanted me to give you this.”
She holds out a pink envelope, with ‘Blair’ scribbled across the front in purple ink, a heart dotting the I in my name. It’s Emily’s handwriting; if the heart didn’t give it away, the purple ink would have. She only wrote in purple—I’m not sure that I ever asked her why, and now I can’t.
I take the envelope from Nurse Carla and thank her for dropping by to tell me. It feels kind of ironic to thank someone for just breaking your heart. I really need her to leave so that I can process what’s happened. She attempts to give me an awkward hug and then sees herself out. I watch her wave from the car as she pulls out of my drive, I’m still frozen to the spot at the fireplace, watching her through the window, sure that my heart will shatter if I move.
Three Months Later
I SIT STARING at the unopened envelope pinned onto my notice board above the desk in my room. It’s filled with pictures of Emily and me through the years. There are pictures of us from grade school with braces and no front teeth; pictures of us at the mall in one of those photo booths, pulling stupid faces and giving our best pout; stalker pictures of Emily in the halls by Ethan Jamison’s locker, Ethan in the background having no idea we were trying to take pictures of him. I lean back in my desk chair and crack my knuckles, stretching out my arms above my head. I’m going to do it. The thought makes me feel sick and dizzy, I can feel my eyes start to prick with tears. I let out a sigh.
“Get a freaking grip, Blair, it’s just a letter,” I say aloud.
I unpin it from the board, shaking so much that my name in all its purple ink glory is blurring into the pink of the envelope. I want to read it. I need to read it. It’s been haunting me for the past three goddamn months. Only I know, once I finally do open it, that’s it. That’s the last thing I’ll ever have from Emily. I know I need to just do it, but it hurts, it hurts so damn much that I want to scream.