Until the Last Breath

“See you later,” I call after as he gives me a small nod of his head.

I twist so my legs are over the edge of the bed, then look at the jetpack. This thing will be annoying to carry around but it’s better than sitting on my ass in this bed, watching cartoons and reading books all day long.

I get off the bed, carrying the jetpack with me to my walk-in closet. When I step in, I sit in front of the black chest, fold my legs, and after collecting a few breaths, I open it, digging around and searching for my old black Jansport bag. When I come across it, I smile way too hard for my own good.

“There you are, old friend.” I unzip it, dumping out random sheets of paper, pens, empty water bottles and even snack wrappers. When it’s empty, I smooth out the tan leather on the bottom and then I tuck my jetpack neatly inside of it. I start to zip it, but then I realize the zippers might cause a pinch or bend, so I leave it halfway open.

I dig in the chest again, looking for the hand-me-down pocketknife given to me from my father. As I search, I hear footsteps coming into the bedroom. Moments later and Tessa’s voice screeches, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Looking for something,” I tell her, completely ignoring her overreaction.

“Well, let me do it. Looks like you’re struggling. Stop.” She swats me away, taking over my scavenger hunt. “What are you looking for?”

“The old blue and brown pocket knife dad gave me.” I tuck the loose strands of my hair behind my ear. “It’s in there somewhere.”

“Oh, God.” Tessa’s eyes stretch, full of horror. “Please tell me you’re not looking for it so you can off yourself.”

I narrow my eyes, pushing her away from the chest and getting on my knees to search again. “Suicide and Shannon don’t mix,” I mutter.

“I know. I’m kidding. I love you.” She looks down at my backpack, fingering the levers and knobs on the jetpack. “So this is the thingamajig John spent an arm and a leg on, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Is it working?” She looks up.

“Yep. Breathing better than before. It feels ten times better to get smaller doses than having to sit and let a full bag drip into my veins.”

She gives an inconspicuous look. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, seriously,” I say, pulling out the knife and flipping the blade. “I feel great. Kind of like how I did before. I think moving around with it is actually helping, not making it worse.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t walk at all—at least, not so much, Shannon.”

“Tessa,” I mutter and she raises her hands in defense.

“I’m just saying,” she mumbles. “If I were given the opportunity to lay in bed all day, I would totally take it!”

“Of course, you would.” I laugh, using the knife to cut a hole above the label on the backpack. I quickly take off my tubing, slide it through the slot and then put it back on, inhaling quickly.

“How neat,” she says, fiddling with the hole. “Well, anyway, I came up to tell you that I went down to that bakery you like so much and got you a gluten-free bagel and donut. The donut has chocolate icing on it.” Her smile is mischievous as she stands and holds her hands out for me to grab.

I take them and she brings me up to a stand. “I’m so glad John decided to go to work today and can’t see the chocolate donut,” I laugh.

“Me too. I swear, Shannon,” she groans, leading the way out of the closet and bedroom, “I love John like a brother, but I don’t know how you do it. He’s trying so hard to control everything you do. I know it stems from love but come on.”

“Well, that’s John for you.” I shrug. “He’s just really overprotective. He’s lost a lot in his life, so I can’t really blame him.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sticks her bottom lip out, giving that some thought. “He’s a great man though.”

“I agree.”

She makes her way down the staircase, but I stop before taking the first step down, realizing just how many steps I have to take before getting to the first floor.

Tessa reaches the middle of the staircase and starts to say something as she turns at an angle, but when she realizes I’m not behind her, she frowns, looking up. “Shannon? You okay?”

“Yeah.” I hold up my hand, giving her reassurance. “I’m fine. It’s just been so long since I’ve walked down the stairs by myself.” I force a laugh. It’s winded.

I haven’t walked down any of the stairs and I’m already breathless. The crazy part about this is I’m not even afraid of the staircase, I’m afraid of my lungs racing, trying to catch up with an activity I haven’t performed in months.