EDITED on 14th Novembar 2015.
Final edits: 20th August '16
The Ultimate edits: 16-02-2022!!!
"hehe, I think I finally got rid of all typos yeas later lololol"
Also, every character of mine has different personality, do understand that there are over 7(8, damn do we multiply) billion people on this planet and not everyone thinks the same way you do.
I don't necessarily have to agree with my characters, so I'm not by ANY FREAKING WAY forcing my opinion on others. If it were me, I wouldn't act nor think like Kaley in over 70% of this book. I'd probs take Blake's money and go to enjoy life wit Ayden on Hawaii or something...
I'm not Kaley and she's not me, don't go creating your opinion of me based on a imaginary person.
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Never trust others too much. Remember, the Devil was once an angel.
"Would that be all?" I asked, smiling at the regular customer politely. Her name is Betty, or that's what her current date called her. She went all the way from Beatrice, Trix, Bella, Trice and Betty, so it's kind of hard to guess which one of those will come out next.
Being a waitress at the little café across the corner may not have been my ideal job, but the payment was just enough for me to deal with the rent and take care of Ayden.
"Make sure that salad is well washed," she snarled dismissively at me. And no, I wasn't joking. She'd scrunch her face whenever she saw another girl and would start grabbing all attention from people around her. Insecure or just obsessed with attention?
I kinda felt sorry for her dates sometimes. She must have noticed her leather clad date checking out my legs and I sighed. I knew I was short, but he looked at them just like I was barely a meter tall. Why was I so different from other girls?
Betty had the kind of confidence I yearned for, despite her annoying personality. However, I really couldn't do it so I also, in some kind of twisted camaraderie, hated her back. I looked at her closely and thought of an appropriate put down. She's a golden blonde, medium height, wearing a top that just about covers her C cup breasts and a skirt that barely covers her butt and thighs. She also wore high heels. A woman could wear whatever she liked but I must say that Betty's the kind of person someone might think of as the "blonde" stereotype. Sigh. I really don't know if I admired or hated this woman anymore. I was not picking on blondes seeing as I was one myself, but if I hated something, then it's when people disrespect other people. There's also an unwritten rule not to be rude to someone who handles food you are about to eat. I have no patience for people being rude, I was quite famous in my middle school as the most violent midgeâpetite girl. Cough, never mind my black history.
Take Betty for example, she had nineteen different dates bring her here for a meal this past fortnight. Betty has seen me waiting on her, serving her meals and clearing up afterwards. She probably thought that I was a young woman with no intelligence, no college prospects, or self-worth so she's been disrespecting me because her date checked out my legs. And she got all her dates to pay for her meals. Quite remarkable if you asked me. Some have even left me generous tips. I didn't mind the snake dance their tongues did in each other's mouths in between their meals, but I minded that she looked at them like they were her toys. That personality of hers reminded me of my aunt. Manipulative.
"Sure thing." I feigned a smile then made a beeline for gourmet chef Ryan. I handed over to the old man Betty's and Hunk Number Nineteen's food orders.
Ryan was your typical elder that didn't stand out much. His once black hair now got few strands of gray as he had entered the first half of his forties, quite the contrary to his soft and warm brown eyes which was full of life. He had that spark in them. He was someone I could call a kind person without a doubt.
Proceeding to cut the perfect steak slices, he chose and washed the freshest vegetables. The way he'd move his knife so precisely and leisurely never failed to fascinate me. Our restaurant wasn't that famous, but it wasn't small either. To be honest, it was the kind of place where ordinary people would go to in order to feel like elites while true elites could consider it as a nice place for breaks and coffee. If only it weren't for that childish logo, though.
Still seething, I complained. "I swear, if she weren't our source of incomeâher dates actuallyâbut still . . . I'd make her the junkiest food there is and force feed her!" Gritting my teeth, I was tempted to go back and tell her a thing or two. Too bad my imagination was actually quite the opposite of my course of actions. I might say this and that, but no way in hell I'd actually do it. Two years later, the school bully that I was turned into a puppy that can only bark but not bite. Sigh. Life really is cruel when teaching you to be human.
"You are not the queen to make up new words," Ryan chuckled, patiently going along with my complaints. "That 'junkiest' is not about to get into our dictionary."
I raised my eyebrow. Way to ruin the fun. "Oh, yeah?" As if I'd give up so easily! "Take a look at the current progress of our modern world. Words like 'googling' something or sending a 'tweet' made it to the urban dictionary without monarchs raising a finger. Anarchy has long fallen, it's the era of freedom now." I rebutted with confidence then added, "One day there could be a product named after me."
Ryan pretentiously gasped. "That's the day I see pigs fly."
Really, pigs? What, cows have become too mainstream now?
"Well, why don't you go to those old farms? Aliens have been stealing them so if you squat long enough, you may be able to see one or two of them flying around." Surely they wouldn't use their teleportation devices on them, but something with an anti-gravitational system would probably work . . . eh, right? I should stop here.
"Whatever floats your boat." He sighed and I frowned.
"My boat doesn't float. I don't even know how to swim, much less use that thingy." Not this time, I won this one.
"You're weird, you know?" I chuckled at his question. Tell that to the rest of Seattle or people in asylums.
"It's called being unique, Ray." I couldn't help the grin that formed on my face when Ryan bursted out laughing. He and his wife had no children. I guess that's the reason he took me in as a waitress or helped me whenever he had a chance. He probably saw me as his daughter. He was a good friend of my father, after all.
"Kaley, I'd be proud of you whether or not you achieve anything worth entering the dictionary." He gave me a meaningful look like the one Dad used to give after seeing me work hard on a science experiment or something that resembled it. Minus the fantasy logic used as a basis of those experiments. I smiled, picking up warmed plates with the main course for Betty and her date.
The phone in my pocket began to vibrate so I put down the tray and picked it up mouthing, "Sorry!" to Ryan as I checked the caller ID. He shrugged it off. He wasn't some evil boss from hell.
The caller ID was Melissa, my best friend and also Ayden's teacher at the kindergarten. If she was calling me in the middle of the day, then it was probably important. I expected to be on the phone for several minutes. I waved at Tim, my co-worker, and gestured for him to take over the main course that Ryan served onto plates with the precision of a designer. His freshly made meals appealed to visuals, the aroma tantalized nostrils and the taste was enough to bring customers back for more. I answered the call after handing Tim the order ticket so Betty and her date at table five could get it before it got cold or fellow customers got nauseated by their show of tongue tango.
"Hey Melissa! What's up?" I asked warily. It was unexpected hearing from her when she was at work.
"I had to call right away. Ayden was at the playground when he suddenly fainted. He has not yet responded to first aid and I have to tell you, I'm worried. The ambulance has just arrived and I'm going with him to the hospital."
Hospital? "Was he playing rough with the other kids," I asked, trying to picture what could have happened. There was no need to panic.
"Ayden was running one second and was out cold the next. He dropped hard, hitting his head. He's pale and his pulse is shallow. It seems serious to me but I don't want to worry you before the doctor gives us a diagnosis."
That was not okay. Melissa had the odd combination of a molten heart and nerves of steel to work with overactive toddlers every day. If she considered Ayden's condition to be serious, then it most likely was.
I, on the other hand, could not breathe. The last time I went to the hospital in winter-like weather for something "serious," Mom and Dad died. I associated hospitals with the worst time in my life from the day our family was split in half, so I couldn't bear to enter it again. The memories of what happened would still linger in my heart, giving me nightmares. Just a quick glance at the hospital reminded me of their dead bodies. I couldn't stand it.
"I'm leaving now and should get at the hospital in about fifteen minutes." I was in automatic mode, not thinking about anything else but my little brother. However afraid I might be, Ayden needed me.
Ryan, who heard my side of the conversation, has already picked up my shoulder bag and jacket, handing them to me with a worried expression on his face.
"Look after Ayden for me and call if anything changes. If he's sick, feel free to take a day off, Kaley," he said. I reached for my things before donning them on. I filled him in on what Melissa said before rushing out of the café towards my bike.
"Please . . . Don't take Ayden from me, let him be alright. Let it be a minor fall or exhaustion. Just don't let it be anything serious." I prayed. I could either run to the hospital and be there in about forty minutes or ride a bike and be there in half the time.
The fear wrapped around me like malicious snakes but my legs still mechanically pedaled no matter how difficult it was to breathe. No matter how much I tried to brush it away, fear continued to slowly crawl over my skin, reminding me of what happened two years ago. It was taking my sanity bit by bit and I could do nothing about it unless I made sure that he was alright. I had never ridden a bike faster to get to the hospital. My fingers were so cold they were about to freeze completely.
Once I arrived there, I walked through to the admissions foyer, breathless and perspiring. Fortunately, Melissa was there to meet me at the front entrance.
Melissa and I first met around two years ago when I started working at Eat & Smile. She often came there with a friend of hers called Max. Max was a really nice guy but he's always been pretending to be a womanizer, though he was never really interested in relationships at all. But that doesn't mean that women weren't interested in him.
"What did the doctors say? Is he okay? D-Did he regain consciousness? Where is he?" I rushed Melissa for answers, struggling for breath with each question as I followed her to Ayden.
The waiting room was full of sick or injured people and their loved ones, and suddenly my worries seemed like they weren't as big as they were on my way here. We found a spot close to the double doors where doctors emerged to call patients into treatment cubicles.
"First, put on your jacket and sit. The doctors never really say anything until they run all the tests but it is unusual for an active child to just lose consciousness." Melissa sat down and placed an arm around me. From the look on her face, I could tell she felt worse than she was letting on. Brave front, was it? I remember putting those on all the time after my parents died. But it was useless. It eventually breaks you. Compared to it, crying is much more relieving. I truly had no other choice but to wait and hope, but would God even listen to someone like me, someone who cursed him when I lost everything I had?
We had coffee and the clock kept ticking. Marking time. It was the beginning of November, but it was cold as if it was a full-blown winter. Maybe it was just my imagination, but I was freezing to death; I felt that even if I were to put my jacket on again, the cold would still loom over me. Should I just embrace it then?
Minutes became an hour; an hour became hours. I had lost track of time until a woman, a doctor in her late forties, asked if there was anyone there for Ayden Evansville. Melissa and I jumped out from our seats and hurried up to her, both wearing worried and expectant expressions.
"Hello, I am Doctor Grainger." She glanced at the clipboard. "The records say Ayden was accompanied by a teacher."
"That's me, Melissa . . ."
"Melissa is Ayden's teacher and my friend. I'm Kaley, Ayden's sister and guardian." I gulped, waiting impatiently for a diagnosis.
"Follow me to the treatment room where you can take a seat and see Ayden. We have been conducting extensive blood tests."
Quietly lost in our thoughts, we walked after Doctor Grainger's fluttering white coat. Why did it take hours to do these tests? My premonition was bad.
"Has there been any recent changes in Ayden's life?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Has he been as active as before, doing the same things he did in the past?" She didn't seem annoyed or anything though my voice was like the one of a rabid animal demanding to get out when it wanted.
"Not really, he's had a fever recently, but nothing much. He doesn't really go out often, so it's nothing too strange about it." He's been like that ever since they died, so psychologists noted it to be normal for him.
"So he changed from being a physically active outdoor boy to one that spent more time indoors?" she asked again to confirm.
"I thought Ayden was. Our parents died two years ago. He has changed since then. They said that it was normal because he might have . . . post-traumatic effects after the accident." He was still four years old after all.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, it explains why you haven't noticed it earlier." She mumbled, rubbing her forehead and looking at the papers. She didn't say a word for a while. I was about to make a first move, but before I had time to ask what she was talking about, she spoke.
"Here we are." Doctor Grainger drew the curtains to reveal Ayden lying on a single bed with white cotton sheets and gray blankets. There were tubes running into the veins on his arms and what looked like an oxygen mask pulled over his nose and mouth. Apart from the tubes, Ayden looked fragile and blissfully asleep as I gasped, covering my mouth.
After making sure Melissa and I were seated next to Ayden's bed, Doctor Grainger continued. "Early indications from the blood tests are that Ayden has leukemia. I have ordered an array of further tests to check the effects: An X-ray to check the condition of his bones, an MRI to check on his brain and ultrasound for the liver, spleen, and kidneys. Here's a fact sheet of treatment options that I want you to read up on as well as support groups that you could talk to. We should know more in a few days but Ayden has been admitted and will be treated as an in-patient here."
Melissa gasped, visibly shaken by the news. I was numb. It was now less painful to stare back at hospital walls that witnessed the worst events of my life. I reached for Ayden's little hand and my other hand grasped Melissa's tightly.
"Are you all right?" Melissa reached to hug me. How could I tell her that my life had turned into another tragedy?
"Depending on how advanced Ayden's leukemia is, we'll need to make quick treatment decisions. Most forms of leukemia are treated with medication combined with a chemotherapy regimen. Radiation therapy and bone marrow transplantation are also treatment options that could be effective depending on test results. Without comprehensive insurance, I have to warn you about treatment expenses. Costs could run into six figures. Some patients have had to remortgage their homes to get lifesaving treatment. If you make financial arrangements now, there will be no further delay when we agree on the most suitable treatment for Ayden. Because of someone making a donation to our hospital some time ago, these checks are fully free for children under ten years, so you don't have to pay for them. But whether it's marrow transplantation or other medicines, these are yours to deal with."
The first thought that came to my mind was of my aunt. Oddly enough, I was feeling pain and panic. They were on a cruise but Ayden's predicament might bring them back home. Ayden was a happy, energetic six-year-old boy; a tragedy could not be his lot in this life. He deserved a shot at a happy one.
I rose up from the hospital chair with steeled resolve, throwing away regret and pain. I could choose to cry and give up or I could do all I can to get the six-figure sum and save my brother's life. I chose the latter, because no matter what, I couldn't let the last real member of my family die. I couldn't lose him too.
If only I knew that the true tragedy doesn't come from despair but from hope of fighting one's own destiny, maybe I wouldn't have been burnt so much when faced with pain. But I could not grieve, I was not allowed to. I was after all, simply a human. I could only go forward and take fate in my own hands, regardless of the consequences. Because the future I aimed for was the one with Ayden by my side. The one where I could truly live as myself.
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