Read The Time Until for Free Online

her.   I’m going crazy thinking about it.”
    The nurse looks at me for a moment.   What is she thinking about?   Does she think I’m as pathetic as I feel?
    “Tell you what,” she sighs, “you stay in bed until
I get in tomorrow and I’ll see if I can get you permission to take a wheelchair
up to see her.” She looks at me.   “We got
a deal?”
    Can I do
that? Hell yeah I can.
    “I can do that.   It’s a deal,” I agree.   She beams
a brilliant smile at me.   She’s a pretty
little thing, nothing on Sam, but still pretty.
    “Great.   Now
get some sleep.” She starts to help me with the blankets. “We gave you some
more medication so you should sleep for a while longer.”   I thank her as she leaves the room.
    I start thinking about the escape attempt I just
tried.   My body stopped working just as I
thought I was home free.   My body is even
too weak to get out of bed.   I hate the
feeling of weakness.   Sam hasn’t called
me a pansy since we were thirteen.   I
worked hard to strike that stigma from my name.
    Well, I feel like a pansy right now.
    The swell in my chest bursts into a full-fledged
inferno. I reach over, grab the vase of flowers, and throw it against the wall
across the room.   The anger I feel
towards the driver of the truck that hit us, the anger at the doctors for keeping
me here, my anger at my parents for not telling me what’s happening with Sam,
and — most of all — my anger at myself for being this weak explodes into full
blown and unbridled rage.
    Yes, that’s what this ball is… Rage.
      “GODDAMN
IT!” I scream at the top of my lungs, collapsing into angry sobs, as the glass
vase shatters, mimicking my feelings.

 
 

Chapter Seven

 
    11 Years Ago (Age 9):   March

 
    Sam and her mother have one day a week where
they spend the day together doing girl things.   Sam loves it, despite her being the biggest tomboy ever.   I usually have no idea what to do when she
has these days, but this time I get to go along.   Apparently, they’re just planning to go to a
movie and it was a movie Sam and I had talked about seeing together.   Emily agreed to allow me to see it too.
    Sam and I sit next to each other and Emily sits
next to Sam as the movie starts.   Before
long I forget that Emily is here, Sam and I are having so much fun.
    Suddenly, Emily starts coughing.
    Nothing new there, but she doesn’t stop
coughing.   It’s a wet, scratchy cough
that sounds really bad.   Sam has tried
over and over again to get her mom to stop smoking — hiding her lighters and packs
of smokes or even going so far as to break all her cigarettes in half.   Emily gets mad at her for doing it, but never
really punishes her for it.
    She’s still smoking.
    I know it hurts Sam to see her mom like
this.   Ever since that health class about
the dangers of smoking, Sam has been on a crusade to save her mom from
death.   I feel so sorry for Sam and I
actually get really mad at Emily.   Why is
it so hard to stop smoking?
    Doesn’t she know how much it hurts Sam?
    Emily collapses to the floor, convulsing from
coughs, and Sam stops everything to jump to her.   I notice something in Emily’s hand.   The theater is still dark but I think I know
what it is.
    Her palm is covered in blood.
    She was just coughing into the same palm.

 

 
    “Samantha.   I want you to be prepared baby girl.   Mom is not feeling well,” Nate explains to us.   It’s been a few days since the movie theater
incident and Emily has been in the hospital the entire time.   Sam reaches for my hand and, as I take it,
she squeezes.   All I can do is squeeze
back and Sam’s shoulders slack a bit, comforted by my presence.
    Having me here makes
Sam feel better, which makes me feel good.
    Sam nods her head and
drags me into the room.   Emily is
pale.   She requires a lot of oxygen, so
she has a breathing tube in her nostrils.   She’s been sick for a long time and told no one about it.   She