Present Perfect(92)

“Amanda Kelly.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Amanda Kelly. I wish we could have worked something out.”

“It was fun while it lasted,” I said, as he handed my iPod back.

I noticed he had picked his up. I snatched it from him and started flipping through songs.

“Let’s see what we have here. The Police…hmmm. The Stones, Eric Clapton, You’re an old schooler.” I flipped through a few more songs. “Now what do we have here? The Bodyguard soundtrack, Whitney Houston-The Ultimate Collection, Just Whitney, and of course, no collection would be complete without I’m Your Baby Tonight.” Smirking with satisfaction, I glanced over at him. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m a romantic.” I tossed his iPod back to him.

“So, what’s a hot girl with one leg doing in a place like this?”

“Um…I have the cancer.”

“That’s pretty obvious, smartass. What kind?” he asked.

“Osteosarcoma.”

“Stage?” I looked at him in obvious confusion. “What stage is your cancer? One through four, four being the worst or the best depending on your perspective.”

“I have no idea.”

“You’re such a newb. I have stage four brain cancer. It’s full throttle for me, baby.” I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just stared at him. “Don’t worry, though. I will guide you through the treacherous waters of the cancer ocean and teach you my ways, young grasshopper.”

“I appreciate that Mr. Miyagi.”

He shook his head. “Not only are you mixing TV with movie characters, but Kung Fu and The Karate Kid are like a decade apart.”

“Your point?”

Slowly the corners of his mouth curled up into a mischevious grin. He leaned in close to me like he had a secret. “Amanda Kelly, are you legal?”

“What?”

“Are you legal age?”

“Why?”

“Because when you finally give into your desires, rip my clothes off, and have your way with me, I don’t want to be arrested, and end up the girlfriend of inmate 25043.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to be your girl because of my poor choice in music.”

“True, but you’re hot and I’d still f*ck you.”

If anyone else, on our first meeting, had said that to me, I would have been completely offended, but coming from this boy I just met, it made me smile.

“You’re disgusting,” I teased.

“I’m also adorable as hell. All the girls think so,” he said, winking at me.

“Apparently, they’re not the only ones who think that.”

“I like you, Amanda Kelly, and I want you to be my friend.”

“I like you too, Dalton Connor, and I’d be proud to be your friend.” We shook hands sealing our new found friendship.

“So, the lady with you is your mom?”

“Yeah. Who’s here with you?” I asked.

“I’m ridin’ solo.”

“Where’s your mom?”

“Let’s see, today is Wednesday…she’s probably on her third margarita while she sits with my dad on the cruise ship.”

“They’re on a trip while you’re sick?”

“I’ve been sick for so long I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t. Other people can’t stop living their lives just because yours is coming to an end.”

I felt my heart completely break for this guy, who I’d only met fifteen minutes ago.

He interrupted my train of thought, saying, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“With pity.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just…you shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“I won’t now that I have you.”





Dalton sat with me for the rest of my chemo that day, even though his was done an hour before mine. He met Mom and charmed her, just as much as he had me. He had been diagnosed when he was fifteen and just turned twenty in December. He told me his doctors were shocked that he had survived this long. He had one brother who lived in New York, but other than his parents, he didn’t have any other family here.

There was something about this boy that I immediately connected with, besides the common denominator of cancer. I had only had that feeling with Noah. Dalton was sweet, funny, smart, brave, and alone. I wanted him to come home with us, so I could take care of him. I had only known him for one afternoon and I felt like I had a new best friend.





Today is the first time I haven’t felt like writing since I learned how to write. There have been days when I didn’t know what to write about, but the desire to write was always there.

Writing is such a part of who I am. My identity. Cancer is not only eating away at my body, it’s eating away at who I am and what I love. I don’t consider myself a very strong person. I don’t know how much I can take before I break. I just know I feel the crack becoming longer and wider each time the cancer devours another part of me.





The effects of chemo are worse than having cancer. A person could live for years with cancer growing inside them and never know it until a doctor examines them and tests tell them so. I used to wonder how a person could have cancer all over their body, only have a few months to live, and not feel the effects of it. It’s because cancer is a quiet bastard, that sneaks in and consumes you before you realize what’s happened.