I walk to my closet, tossing my cellphone on the bed along the way. I pull down a suitcase, trying hard not to let the guilt consume me and instead focusing on the things I’ll bring.
I’m tired of holding back—tired of this dull, depressing life. I will be careful. I know to be careful. I can ride around in an electric wheelchair if I have to. I don’t care, I just know in my gut I have to go.
It’s another country—my dream country. I can’t miss this opportunity. I have to fulfill everything I want to do with the remainder of my life and Paris is number one on my bucket list. Without going there, will I have truly lived? Will I be happy as I lay on my sickbed again, clinging to my final breaths, imagining all the ways I could have lived?
The answer is no. I won’t be happy. I’ll regret not going, and one thing a dying girl should never do is regret the final moments of her life because those are special.
Those moments matter the most.
TWENTY THREE
After Tessa and I eat breakfast, I watch her pack her belongings in the most unenthusiastic way as possible. Before I know it, we’re outside and she’s tossing her bags in the backseat of her car.
“Shannon, please be safe,” she pleads, meeting up to me and wrapping her arms around my neck. She plants her chin on my shoulder, proof that she won’t be letting me go for a while. “I’m glad you’ve decided to tell John about this.”
I return a tender hug, sighing over her shoulder. “I know. I just wish he would answer his phone. I’m running out of time.”
“Well, if he doesn’t answer, just go. Don’t let that stop you. Just be safe over there, you know?”
“I’ll take care of myself. I promise.”
She pulls back and holds onto the tops of my shoulders. “I wish I could go too, so I can stare at you while you sleep. Make sure you’re breathing after so much adventure.”
I laugh. “I wish you could too, but you have a soon-to-be husband waiting for you at home. Plus, you know he can’t stay home for too long by himself. Might burn the house down trying to cook for you.”
She chokes on a laugh, head shaking as she releases me. “I can’t believe you still remember that.”
“How can I forget? I’ve never met a man that doesn’t know how to grill a burger.” I grab her hands, smiling. “I promise if I don’t feel well you will be the first person I call. If I can’t, I’ll tell Max to call you.”
“Okay.” She releases a breath, blowing upward and causing her bangs to swing. “Tell that fucker not to do anything stupid.” She lifts a fist in the air. “If he does and I find out, he’ll be getting a mouth full of my fist.” She waves her fist in the air, demonstrating the consequence.
I bust out in a laugh. “Trust me. He won’t. We’ve already talked about that and came to an agreement. This is just to fulfill a promise.”
“Good.” She tugs me in again with a groan, hugging me hard. Then she pulls away, kissing my cheek and then walking to her car. “Well, have fun!” she calls before she climbs in. “And take lots of pictures!”
“I will!”
“And call me when you get there! I mean it!”
“You got it!” I blow her a quick air kiss as she gets into the car, starts it up, and backs out of the driveway. She waves through the window and I wave back, and just like that, she’s gone.
The thing about Tessa is I wonder how she’ll go on without me when the time comes. We’ve always been pretty tight and were practically joined at the hip until she went to college.
As I turn to go in the house, I can’t help but think of our mother and how better off we have been without her.
“I got you some oatmeal.” My mother walked through the door, her skinny limbs bending as she sat beside me. I scowled at her, watching as she placed the unpleasant-looking oatmeal on the table next to me. “There’s raisins and brown sugar, just the way you used to eat it.”
“I don’t like raisins anymore,” I muttered.
“Oh really?” She raised a brow, looking at me but not into my eyes. She quickly focused on the center of her lap, at her ripped jeans. Her brown skin was chalky and wrinkled, her lips chapped. She looked horrible. “I didn’t know that. I guess things change after ten years, huh?” She tried laughing, making it a joke, but I sat forward, which led John to get up from the sofa in the hospital room and stand next to me.
I held my hand up, shaking my head. Yes, I was just coming off some medicine that had heavily sedated me. I was tired and cranky and had been vomiting all morning, but I wasn’t letting her get by with comments like that. Not anymore.