“No problem. But don’t stay up all night,” she warns the three of us before heading back downstairs.
“Is your mom trying to get rid of you?” I ask. “When has your mom ever asked for your permission to stay here?” I laugh, because it’s true.
Meredith rolls her eyes and lets out a dramatic breath. “The last time I invited myself over here for a sleepover she was livid. She’s on this new kick of being like a … punisher parent or something. She told me the next time I wanted to sleepover here I had to ask her permission and she’d speak to your mom. She’s been listening to too many podcasts if you ask me. I think they’re brainwashing her.” She throws her hands up in the air like she doesn’t know what she’s going to do.
“That’s hilarious.” I hide a giggle behind my hand.
“The woman is crazy. She can drink a martini before twelve o’ clock but I have to ask permission to stay at my sister from another mister’s house. That’s nuts.”
“Do you have your stuff, or do you need to borrow some of mine?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I knew the pushover would give in and let me stay, I already have a bag in my car.”
I shake my head, but I’m secretly glad she’s staying. I know she’ll keep my spirits high and there won’t be any crashing of emotions to come over me at night.
She starts the movie once more and our laughter soon fills the room. Sadly, we’re far more amused by each other than the movie, but I think that’s better.
Meredith lies beside me in my bed, staring up at the ceiling like I often do.
“I still can’t believe you defiled your ceiling to glue book pages onto it.”
I snort. “You know, most people would be more concerned by the defiling of the books, not the ceiling.”
She shrugs. “I don’t love books like you do.”
“You should give them a chance.”
“I don’t have the attention span for it.”
I look up at the ceiling with her, my hands crossed over my chest. “The next time I go to the bookstore I’m getting you the smuttiest book I can find. That you will love. I know it.”
“Mmm, smut. Now you’re talking my language.”
We both laugh, and she sobers first.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in the hospital.”
She’s already apologized numerous times since I’ve been home. The thing about Meredith is, while she portrays herself as loud-mouthed and without a care in the world, she’s one of the most caring people I know. She’s soft-hearted and loves fiercely.
“It’s okay,” I tell her for the umpteenth time. “I didn’t feel up for any visitors anyway.”
“But still … I feel like I should’ve been there.”
“I don’t care if you were there, I care if you’re here, and I have you. I need my best friend to be by my side to talk to me, to distract me, or even to be a shoulder to cry on if that’s what I need, and you do all those things. That’s more than enough.”
She turns her head to face me, red locks of hair falling over her forehead.
“When I was little I used to beg for a sister. It was all I wanted. But I think God knew I did have a sister out there in the world, and that’s you. We might not share the same DNA but we share a heart, and I think that’s worth more.”
I reach my arms out to hug her and she hugs me back.
I think it’s a rare thing to have a friendship like ours, like she says we’re more sisters than anything, and it’s something to cherish.
Three weeks pass with doctor’s appointment after doctor’s appointment.
I begin to feel like I live in the hospital, like I did in the beginning of my diagnosis, but I’m quick to remind myself this isn’t forever and for a very good reason.
June comes to a close, school ends, Meredith graduates, and life goes on.