Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69018 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“She made up with them in the end, my grandparents. She told them she forgave them when she found out about her heart. No one in the family, as far as she knew, had a history of heart disease, but then she got diagnosed, and so young too. Even after knowing she was not in good shape, they didn’t want to have a relationship with her or with me. How is it even just her fault that she got pregnant when she was seventeen and wanted to keep and raise me? I was already an adult by that point. You’d think twenty years would soften some people, but it didn’t. My mom has two brothers, and even though she called to forgive them, too, they sided with their parents. They’re like…this family unit that just banished her and moved on without her and me. They exist, and I do have people, but it feels like I don’t. My mom made me promise I wouldn’t hate them and that I’d forgive them for being hard and keep on living my life the way she wanted me to, in love and kindness, but that was probably the worst thing I ever did. Not holding it against them.”
She turns to me, and I blank out, hollowing my emotions into a huge, empty space so she can’t read me. My emotions have no place here. This is her story. For her.
“Even though her health was failing, she kept up all this hope,” she continues. “She kept telling me to take things a day at a time. Surgery wasn’t an option because her heart was so far gone. They only realized how bad it was when she had a series of small heart attacks and then finally went to the hospital one night because she was in so much pain. People wait years and years for heart transplants, and she couldn’t get one.”
“I’m so sorry.” The most inadequate words to ever be spoken. My own heart is going to explode, half with sorrow and half with anger. I know it would be far, far overstepping, and it’s the last thing Ephemeral or her mom would want, but part of me wants to find her grandparents and her uncles and—and—
And I don’t even fucking know. That’s how angry I am.
Why does life throw you things like this? The knowledge that if I had just met Ephemeral sooner, I could have helped. I could have bought her mother a heart, paid for better medicines, or taken her somewhere for something experimental. But then, if her mom were still alive, we never would have met. That’s the way life, fate, whatever the hell you want to call it, works.
“My mom wanted me to get tested, and I knew that even though I wouldn’t be able to get insurance in the future if I did have something wrong with me, I did it anyway. I just couldn’t live without knowing, and a lot of the time, it is genetic. Thankfully, there’s nothing wrong with me. Do you know how amazing parents are? My mom cried with me when we got the results. She laughed, and she wanted to celebrate. All the while knowing she was in bad shape.”
“I can understand that. You were her greatest treasure.”
I once had a mother who would have done anything for us. As soon as I was old enough, I did anything for her and my brothers. Anything and everything I could. And when I was literally done with that, I was chewed up and spat out. They didn’t want the person I was.
The bitter memories attack me, but this isn’t my story. This isn’t my time. I keep my face neutral. I keep the rage and sadness, bitterness and betrayal from twisting my features.
“My mom didn’t want the house to go toward paying the bills and debts, or the car, or her small savings, but I was adamant. I had a home nurse at the end because she was scared of hospitals. I thought, fuck the cost. I’ll spend the rest of my life paying it off if I have to.”
She sniffles but doesn’t start crying. It feels like my chest is a giant, overripe fruit that is about to bust wide open. I’ve seen a lot of shit most people shouldn’t have to see, but watching Ephemeral struggle for control and seeing her eyes shine in the moonlight, both with love and so much pain, is almost more than I can handle.
“I just…out of all the emotions I’ve gone through over the past years, I just miss her so much.” Her hands ball up, and she turns her face away from me, looking over my shoulder at the moon, the galaxy, and all the unknown. “I know people talk to the ones they’ve lost like they’re here, but I can’t do that. I know she’s gone. Maybe she’s out there, but I can’t feel her the way I did. It’s different now, and I hate that. I hate that I’ll never feel close to her again. At least I can talk to Peach Lips. Not the way I talked to my mom, but I can talk to Peach Lips about her. I can tell her stories. I can laugh, or I can cry. I can also just do nothing and say nothing.”