Reluctant Thoughts

I sat tapping my feet restlessly against the feet of the plastic chair. Just last week, I had come to see Dr. Anne about headaches, thinking a minor cold must have been the cause of it. Now, with the phone call still fresh in my memory, I dreaded exactly what would be said.

My fingernails took some abuse as I started biting into them. Glancing at the clock hanging loosely on the white wall, I realized not even 5 minutes had gone by. Feeling dismayed, I reached for the pile of old magazines laid out on a small coffee table.

Fashion in the 80s was the last thing on my mind, but anything to take me away from overthrowing.

"Ms Stone, the doctor will see you now. " The receptionist was kind enough to smile. I felt bad for my response. Trying to smile definitely turned into more of a frown if her reaction was any indication. She opened the door leading to the doctor's room and handed the doctor my file.

Taking the only other available seat in the room, I waited for the doctor to start. I could feel the sweat from my palms dampening the skirt I had on.

"Well, I'm sure you understand that the results aren't favorable since I've called you in..." she cleared her throat, the news probably weighing on her as much as the waiting did to me. I could only nod, not trusting myself to speak at the moment.

"Ms Stone, I'd rather not make this long. Your results came back that you have cancer. Now, usually, we'd be running you up to get treatment, but..." She stopped to study my file again. And continued after the pause.

"I'm afraid your cancer has spread aggressively. There's not much we can do for you at this point, other than give you a list of hospices or counseling to see you through. "

Death was nothing new to me. I mean, I faced people who died daily, but now, being in the hot seat facing that phase of my life, It felt too weird to be real. I know I spaced out because the sudden touch of Dr. Anne's hand on my shoulder had me jump in my seat.

She chose to ignore this, and rather, she asked about my thoughts. I stammered out the first question that popped up.

"How much time..." Taking in a deep breath, I whimpered the rest out. "How much time do I have left?"

The doctor sighed and looked at me sympathetically.

"With those results, about 3 months, or more. " She looked determined, tightening her grip on my shoulder. "Let's believe it will be more."

I nodded, trying to calm myself down. I had to drive myself back home. The last thing I wanted was to shorten my life expectancy further by getting into an accident

"Is there anyone that you can contact to come fetch you?"

"I'll manage, thanks. " She didn't need to know I had no one unless you count the ghost, who was probably lazing around my house as someone.

She didn't push it, which I was grateful for. Instead, she walked away to search through some papers until she got two flyers. Walking back to me, she handed them over, looking guilty for some reason.

"Listen, I know you probably don't want to deal with anything this serious right now, but it's best to book your hospice room before the time." I noticed the flyers were hospices. Oh.

"Less stress when it comes to you needing the help when the time comes." I nodded and turned to leave. My hand turned the handle when Dr. Anne called my attention.

"I know this will sound crappy coming from someone that's not in your position, but..." She shifted her feet nervously.

"Remain positive, science isn't all there is. Sometimes, a miracle starts with you. " With that, she waved me goodbye.

I welcomed the sudden blast of cool air the air-conditioning above the door gave out. The hospital familiar to me suddenly seemed like I was there for the first time. I had to change lifts three times before I got the level to the parking lot.

Opening the back door of my car, I threw my bag in the backseat and slammed the door shut. Nearly ripping the driver's door of its hinges to get into my seat. Once I was seated and now alone, my situation finally reached me. All my hopes and dreams and worries, for what? Not as if that even mattered now, not even the crush I had on the ghost in my house matters anymore!

Wait, Thomas, what will I tell Thomas? I promised when I was still a child that I would solve his murder. I've never hated my procrastination more than I did at this moment. Here I was, sitting in my old BMW, thinking of a dead person, when I myself might join him soon.

The ridiculousness of the situation made me cackle with uncontrollable laughter. I wasn't sure what I was laughing for. But whatever the reason may be, it at least made me feel sorta normal.

I placed the key into the ignition and started off home. I stopped by my favorite pie place and decided to treat me to a few dozen mini steak pies.

After buying myself a ton of snacks, I felt good driving home. I fealt so good that I hummed to the music that played on the radio. My house came into view sooner than I thought. Its wooden structure standing out amongst the more modern redeveloped homes.

And as always, a lean figure stood in the window of the second floor. A book in his hand, smiling down at me. I surely hoped that I'll be able to relay this bit of news without me crying my eyes out in front of my crush.

Even though he saw me in full snot and red nose glory as a kid and angst teen. Something about me now on the verge of death wanted me for him to see that I'm more than the brat he raised.

Turning off the car, I took a couple of deep breaths and went about unloading the bags to bring inside. My stomach was churning as I did so.

Taking my time to unload the bags and sorting them into their respective places, I could feel Thomas watching me.

The chills that came from a ghost being nearby amplified the shaking of my nervous fingers. Thomas coming closer to me was not doing me any favors.

"Are you alright, love?" He started calling me love since I could remember. Lovey he said before, sounds like a prostitutes call name. To which I was very offended. My parents gave me the name, the least he could do was take his 18th century mentality out of it.

"Later, I'll wash up first, then we can have a chat. " This seemed to have satisfied him, since he turned to the direction of the library.

This was going to be a long night...

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