Before We Say Goodbye


A lot changes the day you find out you’re dying. It’s funny, how those three little words changed my world forever.
You’ve.
Got.
Cancer.
And now I’ll never be the same again.
*
I wring my hands nervously. My heart thuds against my ribcage loudly.
I can hardly breathe, waiting for the results of my MRI scan.
“You okay, baby?” Trish asks, concerned.
I smile at her bravely. “Yeah,” I lie, “I’m okay.”
She smiles back, but she doesn’t believe that, not for a minute. She’s always been able to see right through me.
“Patricia Lees?” a nurse calls from the reception.
Trish turns to me. “Wait right here,” she says. “I won’t be a minute.”
She hurries over to the nurse, who leads her into an office just next to reception. I feel sick, oh God, I feel so sick.
What’ll happen if I have cancer? There are so many things I still want to do…pass my GCSEs, finish school, fall in love, learn to drive, get a car, get married. So many things. I don’t want the opportunity to do that to be taken away from me.
And what if people start treating me differently? Every little thing they do around me laced with pity? I don’t want that, either. I’ve always hated pity. I already get enough from my parents being divorced. I don’t need pity.
Empathy, maybe, but not pity.
I wonder how Livi and Mark will react when I tell them. Livi. We’ve been best friends since nursery. I remember the day we met fondly.
“Why do you never play with the rest of us?” she asks curiously.
A little blond girl with long French plaits. Her green eyes sparkled curiously.
I shrug.
“Don’t you want to?”
Another shrug.
“You’ll have to answer me, you know.” She takes me hand firmly in hers. “Come on, it will be fun.”
Finally, I reply. “Promise?”
“Yeah! Promise!”
The corners of my lips tug upwards as I involuntarily smile. I don’t want to lose my friendship with her. Or Mark. I met him in Brownies.
Everyone has a partner except me. I hate Brownies. I told Mammy I didn’t want to come but she made me. Why? I can feel a burning feeling in my throat. I think I’m going to cry. I don’t want to cry! They’ll call me a baby!
I wish Livi was here. She’d know what to do.
There’s one boy there on his own. Ask him, Sophie! Just ask him! You can’t always be so shy!
I wander over to the little redhead who looks lost and alone.
Pretend you’re Livi. Go on!
“Do you want to be partners?” I ask, as if casually, when in actual fact my heart is beating so fast!
“Um, okay,” the boy mumbles.
I smile. This is easy. “I’m Sophie,” I say.
“Oh.”
I wait expectantly, but he says nothing. “Aren’t you going to tell me your name?”
“Mark.”
He was shyer than me back then. I remember my strange little burst of confidence. I wish I was always as outgoing as Livi. But I wasn’t. Mark got over his shyness, but I still have it.
Suddenly Trish appears.
“Soph, babe, you have to come with me,” she whispers.
Her brown eyes are filled with tears.
“What?” I say, panicking. “What’s happening? Why are you crying?”
“Oh Sophie!” she murmurs, enveloping me in a lemon-scented hug.
I inhale deeply. I love this smell. It smells of  Mam, or how Mam used to smell when she and Dad were together. He used to always get her this lemon perfume…I remember how hurt and betrayed I felt when I realised he now got it for Trish, too. I hated him at the beginning. I hated Trish, too. But now I love her, not as a replacement for Mam, no, as a friend. She’s my third best friend, after Livi and Mark.
I miss Mam. Even though she just dumped me on Dad, and ran away without looking back, I still love her. And I want her to know that.
I wonder if Dad will tell her if I have cancer.
I wonder if she’ll care.
Or maybe she’ll have her new family, and she’ll barely remember my name.
Trish takes my hand and leads me to the doctor’s office. “It’s going to be okay,” she says soothingly.
“No, it’s not,” I reply quietly, but she doesn’t hear me.
The doctor is a friendly looking man, sitting behind a big desk. He smiles warmly at me.
I know the deal. He’s seen many people crumble, he’s given many people the bad news. But I won’t cry. I never cry.
“Hello, Sophie. I’m Doctor Kings. So, how are you feeling today?” he asks.
“I have a pretty bad headache,” I say softly.
He frowns slightly. “Pardon?”
I clear my throat awkwardly. I hate dealing with strangers. Just say it already! You only live once so there’s no point holding back.
“I have a killer headache,” I say, trying to sound confident but I can tell my voice is slightly higher than it normally is.
“Ahh, but that’s to be expected,” Doctor Kings nods. He bites his lip. “I’m…I’m very sorry, Sophie. I say that word a lot, but…well, I always mean it.”
My throat burns but I won’t cry.
“I have some bad news.”
I won’t cry.
“You’ve…”
I won’t.
“…got…”
I won’t.
“…cancer.”
I’m not crying.
Trish breathes in deeply. “Sophie?”
I can’t answer her. If I answer her I think I’ll break down.
“Sophie?”
I just shake my head.
“She’s in shock,” Doctor Kings says.
No, I’m not! Don’t pretend like you know about me! I’m not in shock, okay? I’m just not crying.
“If there’s anything I can do, anything at all…” he continues.
Trish smiles. “I don’t think so, apart from medication. But thank you.”
I won’t cry.
*
“Sophie!”
Trish lets me past her into the house. We’ve just returned from the hospital.
“Carla?”
My little half-sister rushes down the stairs. “You’re alive!”
I half open my mouth, ready to say something. But then I decide not to. I just smile.
“I’m fine, Carla. Why would I be dead?”
“That’s what Jake said.”
I fake a laugh. Jake would say that. He’s my half brother. We pretend to hate each other, but it’s just a cover up.
“I’m just dandy, Carla. Don’t worry.”
Trish glances at me.
I give the tiniest shake of my head. I don’t want Carla to know. Not yet.
It would break her.
That is, if she understood.
“Oh goody!” Carla says. “Can I show you what we made in nursery?”
“Yup. Is Daddy back yet?”
“No. Leah’s in the kitchen. She said she was expecting a huge tip for the work we put her through today!”
“Carla!” Trish scolds. “I told you not to make life difficult for Leah!”
Carla looks down at her feet. “Sorry, Mammy,” she whispers.
I laugh. “Let’s get out of here, you little rascal!” I say.
She grins, knowing she’s been forgiven. “Okay. Promise you won’t die, Sophie?”
My throat clogs up. “I promise,” I whisper.
Some promises are made to be broken.