VI.
Same old day, same beginning, but a much heavier feeling. I wake up in everyday fashion, my sister and mother gently calling my name from the kitchen. Without the humming and singing my day is empty, but when something is empty, you quickly forget what you had in the first place.
I rub my eyes and stared into a vanity mirror, nothing had changed. Same complexion, same body, same person, same me.
Then, as the sunlight pours into my room by the window, I felt a sudden change, caught between the rusted bars of my heart.
Because of the so-called “muscular cancer” or in doctor terms, Rhabdomyosarcoma, my legs were a little harder to control, but still manageable. I was silently glad that cheerleading had just finished due to our string loss of basketball games.
I massaged my thighs a little, and gave them a little boost as I headed towards the kitchen. Stumbling into the kitchen, my mother greeted me with a generous half smile and a generous helping of cooked sausages. She was trying very hard to cover fear and anxiety. My sister, appearing to be the same old sister I know, flounced about getting glasses for our morning juice.
But once she poured a tall, fancy glass of orange juice for me, I understood they were all hiding their feelings.
“Mom, Kathy, you don’t need to pretend”
“Aussie, what are you talking about?”
My sister looked away, slowly placing the jug back into the fridge to buy time.
“You guys have to accept reality, hiding anything won’t do any good. I have cancer, and it couldn’t and can’t be helped.”
The petite back of a light green dress quivered before my eyes, and as the fridge door creaked to a close, the small figure curled into a ball. Balancing on her pin-heeled pumps, my sister sobbed before my eyes. Tears were contagious, as my mom jogged over to me and hurled herself over my shoulders. She took in short breathes to stop from bawling, rubbing my back but trying to soothe herself.
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