Death and other side eff.., p.23
Death and Other Side Effects, page 23
“Are you ok?” Jonah asks me, as he becomes aware of the tension in my body.
“Yeah. No…I don’t know,” I say, lifting my fingers from the guitar strings.
“What is it? You can tell me,” he says, sweetly pressing a kiss into my temple, branding me.
“It’s just—do you ever wish that you were normal?” I ask, hoping that he’s not offended.
“Normal? I don’t know…I guess a piece of me will always be missing, but I don’t feel so broken lately. Alexis…I want you to know, I’d never expect you to fix me, to put me back together again, but somehow, you make the hollow part in my chest feel less painful. You have given me hope, something that I never thought would be possible again. So, no, to answer your question, I don’t want to be normal, because nothing about this—what we have together, is normal.”
Wow. I wasn’t expecting that…
“You’re right. Screw normal! I just want you. You’re all that I need,” I tell him, a renewed sense of happiness taking over me.
“I’m glad you feel that way because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Me either.”
“So, when are you going to tell your parents? You know, about the surgery—” Jonah asks, brushing a strand of hair from my face.
“My mom is going to flip.”
“I know, I can’t wait to see her face. I mean—if you want me there…I shouldn’t have assumed, sorry.”
“Of course I want you there, you freak. Oh my God, I have the best idea…We should totally sit them down, all serious like, and tell them that you got me pregnant. That would be so funny! Can you imagine?”
“Ummm…I guess that would be pretty hilarious, but probably not for me, you know, when your dad tears my only other existing limbs off.”
“You’re no fun. I mean, do you really even need arms, anyway? I’ll totally spoon feed you.”
“As tempting as that sounds, my dear, psychopathic, love, I think I’m going to have to pass. I rather like my arms…and without them, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he says, squeezing the life out of me.
“True. It would be a shame if you couldn’t do that.”
“You should tell them tomorrow,” Jonah says, his arms still wrapped around my middle.
“Yeah, I think I will. The sooner the better,” I agree.
“Yeah, the sooner the better,” Jonah repeats, sounding almost antsy.
“So, what now?” I ask him, tired, but way too amped up to go to sleep.
“Now, we live, we live every day, but not like it’s our last, we live for right now, no take- backs, no more fear of what tomorrow will bring, just you and me, and every glorious day that we have the privilege of being alive.”
“Wow… I kind of meant, like what now, as in what do you want to do for the rest of the night, but all of that other stuff you said sounds amazing too…Just one question, when we’re not out conquering the world, one glorious day at a time, do you think that we might be able to sleep in occasionally, at least on the weekends? A girl needs her beauty sleep, you know?”
“I just gave the speech of a lifetime, and all you want to know is if you can still have your precious beauty sleep?” Jonah asks, sounding the slightest bit annoyed with me.
“The speech was excellent, but—“
“As long as we can both agree that it was excellent—then, yes, you can sleep in on Saturdays, but Sundays, you’re mine.”
“Wait, whose am I on Saturdays, then?” I ask, just to mess with him.
“Gosh, Alexis. Really? Saturday, the Sabbath, a.k.a the Lord’s day. Don’t be such a Philistine.”
“Wow, kickin’ it old school with the biblical insults, huh? Well, I’ll make sure to keep the Sabbath holy from now on, but, just so I have it straight—first we conquer, then we pray, and then I get to sleep. Right?”
“That’s all I ever wanted—you, me, and the whole world.”
“And sleep…don’t forget the sleep!” I remind him.
“Actually, I changed my mind. We can sleep when we’re dead,” he says, smirking at me.
“I think that might be the cheesiest thing that I’ve ever heard you say.”
“Girl, I put the wiz in cheese.”
“Gross…and you know that old saying, to stop when you’re ahead?”
“I thought it was stop when you’re dead,” he argues.
“How could you stop when you’re dead? You’d already be dead, so you’d have no choice, but to stop…” I explain.
“Exactly.”
“Wait—what?” I’m really confused now.
“Sorry, I forgot. What were we even talking about?” Jonah asks.
“I’m not even sure now,” I say, feeling a little disoriented.
“Maybe, we shouldn’t talk so much,” Jonah says, a wicked grin on his beautiful face.
“That’s no fun. Then, what would we do with all of our free-not-talking-time?”
“This,” he says, tugging my hair back, so that his mouth is hovering over mine. Then, instead of kissing me, he pulls my neck to his lips and shows me what I’ve been missing out on my whole life.
“Wow, I take it back,” I say when Jonah slows his attack.
“Take what back?” He asks, breathless.
“That…Was definitely more fun than talking.”
“Yes, it was fun. Now, shut up. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Jonah,” I breathe his name out, partly in defiance, but mostly because I can’t help it.
This boy is going to be the death of me.
29
“We’re A Happy Family”
—Ramones
Jonah returns to his own room in the morning. I don’t even have time to brush my teeth before my parents show up. With the new addition of my baby sister, Joy, into the family, our time together is a lot less strained. A name says a lot about a person, and although Joy is only a tiny little thing, she really has brought happiness back into our family. Watching my parents with her makes me wonder if they were the same way with me. So much has happened to our family recently, that I’ve forgotten that we used to be a happy family too—me, mom and dad.
“Coochie, coochie, coo,” My mom says, tickling the bottoms of Joy’s tiny feet.
“Mom, that doesn’t sound right,” I tell her, hoping that she isn’t always this disgusting with my baby sister.
“Oh honey, we did the same thing with you. Don’t be jealous,” she says, unable to wipe the permanent smile off of her face.
Well, at least she’s happy again…
“I’m not jealous, but I am kind of afraid.”
“Sweetie, it’s no use. She talks to her like that all day,” my father says, a little embarrassed too, but mostly proud.
“Do you think that I could hold her? Just for a minute—“
“Of course, sweetheart! Sorry, I didn’t mean to keep her all to myself,” Mom says, swaddling Joy back up in her muslin blanket and passing her to me.
“She’s still so light,” I say, amazed.
“You were even tinier,” Dad says.
“I was?” I ask, unable to believe that anything could be tinier than Joy is.
“You wore newborn clothes for months,” Mom adds.
“Wow, that’s crazy,” I respond, not really caring about the details of myself as a baby so much anymore, but thoroughly entranced by Joy’s beauty.
“So, I heard that you and Jonah made up,” My dad says, a little suspiciously, and I am reminded of the position that he caught us in last.
My face heats momentarily, but I try to avert his line of questioning by quickly answering him and changing the subject.
“Yeah, he’s actually supposed to join us in a few minutes. So, how’s work been, Dad?”
“Oh you know, I’m still up in the air about it,” he says, making a horrible joke about his position as a flight instructor.
“Dad, I might have laughed if I was five, the age I was when you first started telling that joke, but you’re in serious need of some new material.”
“Yeah, yeah… Now back to the boy, are things serious between you two?” He asks, unwilling to let the subject of Jonah go.
“Well, yeah…I guess. I mean, as serious as they can be between two sixteen-year-olds being held hostage in a nursing home.”
“Sweetheart, exactly how serious are we talking? I was a sixteen-year-old boy once too and I sure hope that he’s being…careful—“
“Eeew, Dad, Gross! Please don’t tell me that you are about to give me the sex talk. Mom already gave it to me when I was thirteen, anyway.”
“She did?” He asks, dumbfounded.
“Yeah and again last year, so don’t worry about it,” I tell him, hoping that he’ll drop the subject altogether.
“Well, ok. As long as you’re being safe.”
“Dad! We’re not even having sex!”
“Sweetheart, it’s ok, your father just worries about you,” my mom cuts in.
“I’m glad to hear that, Alexis, because the only safe sex, is abstinence.”
“Dad! Really? Can we please stop talking about this?”
“Ok, I’ll stop, but you know that you can always talk to your mother and me,” he says, a little more gently.
“Yes. Thank you. That’s great. Now, moving on…Wow, sure is rainy out there,” I say, directing my attention to the window.
“Yes, I know. I wish it would stop, at least for a day or so,” Mom says, happy to play along.
“Tell me about it,” I say, running my fingers through my hair and looking around the room, waiting for someone else to say something.
The loud creaking of the door interrupts the silence and Jonah peeks his head in and asks if it’s ok to come in. Thank God, he’s here! I don’t know how much longer I could continue talking about the weather, especially since I barely get the opportunity to go outside. Jonah is fresh-faced and wearing a crisp white t-shirt and his jeans are cuffed up over his black boots. He looks hot, like if James Dean and David Beckham had a baby—kind of hot…I find myself wishing that my parents weren’t in the room right now, but the logical part of me knows that Jonah is here to help me tell them the big news, not to maul me. I clear my throat and say hello to him, the rational side of my brain finally winning over the hormone-inflicted war in my body.
“Hey Alex, hi Mr. and Mrs. Gun,” he says, politely, after giving me a not-so-polite, definitely PG-13 rated look of his own.
“Hello, son,” Dad says, giving it his best shot at sounding scary and authoritative.
“Oh, don’t be silly. Please, call me, Alice,” Mom chimes in, killing some of the tension.
“Yeah Dad, c’mon, son? Have you taken up a new interest in rap or something?”
“Don’t be cute, Alexis,” Dad warns me.
“I don’t think that she can help it, sir,” Jonah says, smiling up at me.
“Oh my goodness, you two! You are just so adorable together. You know? You kind of remind me of your father and me, when we were young.”
“We do?” I ask, doubtfully.
“Yes. Well, without all of the—what do you kids call it, Grunge clothing? And don’t act so surprised. Your father and I were quite with-it.”
“Nice try, Mom. It’s punk, and we don’t listen to Nirvana.”
“Oh, silly me, that’s right. My two adorable little punk rockers!” Mom says, proudly.
I roll my eyes inwardly. She is trying so hard and I love her for it, but I really do wish that she would stop.
“What’s wrong with Nirvana? They’re a great band,” Dad says, acting as if I’ve offended him personally, but I’m not sure how, because I’ve never heard him listen to Nirvana a day in my life.
“Ok, Dad,” I say, agreeing with him because I know that it’s the easiest course of action for me right now.
“So, Jonah, what have you been getting into lately?” Dad asks a hint of accusation in his tone.
“Oh, you know, this and that. I’m teaching Alexis how to play the guitar,” he says, privately smirking at me.
“You are? That’s just wonderful! Isn’t that wonderful, Frank?” My mom, directs the question to Dad, trying to get him to ease up.
“Yeah, wonderful,” Dad responds, unenthused.
“Well, I think it’s wonderful,” I say, fed up with the way my dad is treating Jonah.
That’s when Dad looks at me and I swear that there is an apology lingering in his eyes, even if he doesn’t voice it. From then on, he makes a noticeable effort to be nicer to Jonah. I’m sure he was just doing the overprotective father bit, but it really doesn’t look good on him. My dad is far too kind to act like a macho man and I think even he realizes that. He used to braid my hair, for crap’s sake. I even remember him wearing one of my dress-up tutus once, in my short-lived ballerina phase. The memory of him in the rainbow, glitter-covered little number, brings a big smile to my face.
“It is great. Thank you for teaching my baby girl how to play the guitar,” Dad says, conceding to play nice.
“It’s no trouble, sir. I’d do anything for her,” Jonah says, completely sincere and I believe him, he would do anything for me.
“So, there’s something that Jonah and I want to tell you,” I say to my parents, feeling more nervous than I thought I would.
If it’s possible, Dad looks more nervous than I feel and Mom looks…curious.
“I am going to get the surgery. Well, at least the consultation to see if I’m a candidate,” I say, rushing each word out faster than the last.
My mom immediately starts to cry, squeezing my baby sister to her chest and noticeably trembling all over. Dad rushes over to me so fast where I am sitting on my bed, that I think he might tackle me. I brace myself waiting for the impact, eyes closed as I feel two muscular arms wrap around my middle. His body racks with silent sobs, enveloping me in his warmth, finally he says, “Baby, that is the best news that I have heard all year. Well, that and when your mother told me we were going to have another little girl.”
“I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll always be my little girl too. That’s how it works with daddy’s and daughters,” Dad says, full of emotion.
“And mothers,” Mom adds, still crying, but with a smile so big that I think it might split her cheeks open.
“Well, like Jonah said, I really have nothing to lose.”
“Wait, so you’re telling me that you’re the one who’s responsible for changing our sweet, but extremely stubborn daughter’s mind?” Dad asks, directing the question at Jonah, a look of admiration in his eyes.
“You caught me,” Jonah says, shyly shrugging his shoulders, not wanting to take credit for my decision.
“You really are an alright guy. I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier. It’s just hard seeing my baby girl all grown up.”
“No apology necessary, I get it,” Jonah says, looking at me lovingly.
“So, when can we make the appointment for you?” Mom asks.
“As soon as possible,” Jonah and I say in unison.
“Wonderful, I’ll call Dr. Scott first thing tomorrow morning.
30
“Goodbye My Lover”
—James Blunt
Dr. Scott is looking at my chart for what seems like the millionth time this year. He hasn’t said more than three words to me since we got to the hospital. Today, his cool composure has a crack in it. He’s not all bright smiles and all-American charm. He seems…apprehensive, at best. Maybe, this wasn’t such a good idea…Then, finally, Dr. Scott speaks, pulling me out of my own personal anxiety-driven hell—almost.
“Alexis, let’s get you in for another MRI. I think that’s the best course of action before we go any further.”
“Ok, should I have my mom make an appointment for me then?”
“That won’t be necessary. I’ll get the radiologist to see you now,” he says, all business.
“Ok, Ummm…great, I guess,” I say, feeling the opposite of great.
A feeling of dread overshadows the shred of optimism that I started this day out with. I don’t know why I’m so freaked out about this MRI. I’ve never been afraid before. Maybe, it’s because I know that everything is coming to a close, for a lack of better words. That’s how it feels, like this is either the end or the beginning of everything for me. I don’t want to get my hopes up, so I’m trying to remain as unaffected as I possibly can. It’s not really working, but I guess it’s better than completely losing my shit.
Jonah surprises me, threading his fingers through mine as he wheels up beside me. It’s the calmest I’ve felt all morning. He came with my parents and me for the appointment. At first, it was a little tricky getting him and his wheelchair into our car, but Dad managed both tasks pretty well. I tried to tell Jonah that he didn’t need to come with us, but he wouldn’t listen. He said I was crazy if I thought that he was going to let me do this alone. I’m glad he’s here, even if that means that my tough girl routine didn’t work on him. I can fool a lot of people, even myself, but I’ve never been able to fool him. Jonah cuts right through my bullshit, with his laser-sharp eyes and sees the things that I try to keep hidden from the rest of the world.
Dr. Scott opens the door to the room where the MRI machine is and motions for my parents and Jonah to join me. He says they can stay while we wait for the radiologist. That’s when I remember the Hannibal Lecter headgear that I had to wear last time. Ugh. That was awful. I know it would be futile to hope that I won’t have to wear it this time, so instead, I try to prepare myself mentally for it. It’ll only last a few minutes, no more than a half an hour, that’s what I tell myself anyway.
