The Girl In Room 417

Untitled Part 15

           

"That was your mother?" My voice is harsher than I intend and she flinches slightly. I couldn't see the resemblance, sure they both have the same hair-colour but other than that? They might as well be strangers on the street. Her mother is so common, Abby is other-worldly.

"I'm sorry, I just don't see the resemblance." I try and make my voice gentler and she laughs.

"Chalk and cheese, we always have been. I was always more like my dad, she never liked how close we were." She mutters, fidgeting with her blanket. I pick up on the past tense but decide not to mention it, if her father were still alive, I have no doubt that he'd be stood by her bedside.

My wandering gaze settles on a photograph on her side table and I pick it up gingerly.

"This him?"

"Yeah."

The photo is of a much younger Abby, perched on her dad's shoulder holding a trophy. They both sport baseball caps and baggy t-shirts as well as huge, genuine smiles. It looks like a treasured memory.

I put it down, settling it in the same place and sink into the chair behind me. Her eyes linger on the photograph.

"It looks like a great memory." I comment and she nods, a faint smile playing on her lips.

She clears her throat and looks at me. She looks shy, an emotion I have yet to see from her.

"Thank you, for getting rid of her. I knew she'd be upset but I never thought that she would resort to that." She says, tracing her cheek before letting her hand flop onto the bed.

"No problem, I was in the right place at the right time, I suppose." I say with a shrug and she smiles.

I glance at my watch and realise that Emily is probably expecting me back, but one glance at Abby's fear-stricken face tells me that I'm needed here more. I pull out my phone and shoot my sister a quick text explaining, briefly what happened.

Instead of being angry, my sister sends back an alarmingly quick text announcing how proud she is of me. I stare at the screen for a moment in bewilderment. I will never understand girls.

I put my phone away and look up to find Abby watching me.

"Would you mind if I stay? I don't want her coming back unannounced." I explain and she nods quickly.

"No, I don't mind at all." She whispers and her face is flooded with relief. I have the feeling that if I hadn't of asked, she would have. I'm glad that I can provide her with a sense of comfort, even if I am left with a million and one questions because of it.

_

I make idle chit-chat with Abby and she joins in enthusiastically, but I can't help my endless curiosity which bubbles to the surface.

"Abby, you said if I have questions, I should just ask you, right?" I ask, looking at her and she laughs.

"Yes, I've gathered you have a very curious mind, Ben. You can ask, but I might not answer." She says and I nod, seems fair.

"Your mother, why was she so upset? Surely she's aware of why you're here." I ask delicately and she sighs, cringing at the word mother.

"My mother, she's very fragile, or she likes to think she is, really I think she's just lazy. Either way, we aren't close but she likes to maintain this doting mother-daughter façade so every now and then she attends Dr Wells appointments. I wasn't expecting her today and she...wasn't expecting the truth. Usually Dr Wells um... well he makes it sound better than it is, but this time, well you can't make dying sound any better than the reality of what it is." She says slowly and I cough, choking on air.

"What?" My face drops in horror and she looks at me in a very peculiar way.

"You're surprised? I took you for observant, Ben, you can't tell me that you haven't noticed." She states in disbelief and I shake my head in denial.

"I haven't noticed because you aren't." I say stubbornly.

"I'm not what? Dying? You can say the word, Ben, it won't kill you." She drawls with a morbid smirk and I cringe.

I shake my head, choosing to rebel against the idea but slowly, more and more things start to make sense. She doesn't look sick because she isn't undergoing chemotherapy. Does that mean it's too late for treatment?

I look up at her and she sighs deeply.

"The nurses aren't lying when they say they're sick of seeing me. I've been here longer than most of the nurses. You know, that cancer sometimes comes back, right?" She looks at me for confirmation and I nod.

She nods and continues.

"Well, most of the time, it doesn't. When they've cured you, you're cured for good. But not me, cancer always comes back to me. I was first diagnosed when I was four, back again at nine, back again at twelve, back again at fourteen. The time between being classed as in remission and being diagnosed again got shorter and shorter. They put me on experimental drugs, I've had chemotherapy more times than I can count and this time, I decided I didn't want to get sick again. Dr Wells told me that, after only four months of remission, it wasn't worth the risk and I agreed. It had spread to my bones, when cancer spreads to your bones, Ben, there's nothing else you can do." She says softly and I shake my head.

"No, you're not sick. You don't look sick, you can't be dying." I scan her lovely face, her small body. She's slim and fragile but that's nothing.

She looks at her lap, glancing at the time on the wall.

"Visiting hours are almost up, you should get home." She says gently and I stand up, my mind in rebellion.

What about Emily? This'll kill her. How can Abby not tell her friends that she's dying? It's sick. I look down at her and frown.

"Ben, I'm sorry. I didn't think that you'd care all that much." She says, helplessly shrugging her shoulders.

"Don't. Don't talk to me, or my sister. How can you not tell people? One day you'll be here and the next, you're gone. How can you be so selfish?" I hiss at her and she looks so taken back, as if I too had slapped her across the face.

I storm out of her room and curse the girl who resides in 417.

"No wonder your mother slapped you." I mutter under my breath.