having me in his room, even if it’s not in the “sexy” way I was expecting. I like it too. Together, we talk about aquariums, fish, and what our favorites are. I don’t tell him about Dolly, too embarrassed at my childlike hope in believing she would always be there. As the light fades from bright to orange to dark, I think Jonah starts to feel better, smiling whenever I speak.
Unaware, we both fall asleep, our hands intertwined between us.
And I dream. I am deep-sea diving and swimming through a coral reef. There are brightly colored fish and seahorses gathered in various areas, but every time I get close enough to touch one, they skitter away, afraid of my presence or the shadow I cast onto the ocean floor. For a second, I worry about air. How long I can hold my breath before I run out of oxygen, but there's a tube up my nose, helping me breathe.
It's warm where I am. So warm that I don't mind the fish swimming away from me. I'm content closing my eyes, just staying where I am, letting the waves of light wash over me.
A jolt to my chest props my eyes open. I can still see the seahorses, one with its tail curled onto a piece of coral. But then the image around it blurs and blackens. I realize I can't breathe, that I'm drowning. I cough and a burst of bubbles leaves my mouth before the water is sucked into my lungs, before everything starts shaking.
Why is everything moving so fast? Where are the fish? Where are the seahorses?
And Jonah...where is Jonah?
***
Although I refused to go back to the doctor, I couldn’t help looking up symptoms of my diagnosis. Most websites said basically the same thing: that everyone was different and no two tumors grew the same way. There were only two stages, and neither was better to have than the other. Some people would experience nothing but slight nausea once in a while and some would have extreme symptoms. Like grinding headaches and nosebleeds.
However, not many varied on the life expectancy issue. Once diagnosed, patients with an advanced stage of Oligodendroglioma that could not be removed had even less time than the doctor had given me.
But I couldn’t help my fingers typing against the keys. I couldn’t stop looking for something that wasn’t bad news. More symptoms popped up like the first daisies of spring: hearing and vision loss, weakness in limbs, memory loss or black outs, seizures in rare cases. It seemed that the more I searched, the less hope I found. I still began each night looking up the incredibly long and unpronounceable name. Sometimes I would only search a few seconds, sometimes I would search up until my and Jonah’s late night chats, using the research as fuel to convince me further that going to meet a complete stranger who would pay me for sex and blood was a good idea.
He’d ask how my day was and I’d say something like, “Fine. Uneventful.” All the while, fear blossomed behind my skull. Not because of my growing feelings for Jonah, but because of what was growing inside of me.
***
I wake up and Jonah is standing above me, hands on either side of my face. There's a ringing in my ears and my arms and legs are tingling, like they've just fallen asleep.
“Casey,” he says. His voice is loud and my head is humming. “Can you hear me?”
My mouth is so dry. I can't talk right now, but I nod.
Jonah stares into my eyes for a long time before he helps me sit up. The room tilts and folds in on itself, windows collapsing, floor breaking apart until eventually, all I see is one big mass of white. His hands on my shoulders keeps me steady and everything comes back into focus. Jonah hands me a glass of water and I try to grab it, but my fingers won't grip firmly enough. Tears sting my eyes and fear eats at my stomach. Panic gets stuck in my throat.
“It's okay,” he says, his voice back to its normal volume and soft calmness. “Let me.”
My arms drop to the blankets and he feeds me the water. It's enough to clear my
Unaware, we both fall asleep, our hands intertwined between us.
And I dream. I am deep-sea diving and swimming through a coral reef. There are brightly colored fish and seahorses gathered in various areas, but every time I get close enough to touch one, they skitter away, afraid of my presence or the shadow I cast onto the ocean floor. For a second, I worry about air. How long I can hold my breath before I run out of oxygen, but there's a tube up my nose, helping me breathe.
It's warm where I am. So warm that I don't mind the fish swimming away from me. I'm content closing my eyes, just staying where I am, letting the waves of light wash over me.
A jolt to my chest props my eyes open. I can still see the seahorses, one with its tail curled onto a piece of coral. But then the image around it blurs and blackens. I realize I can't breathe, that I'm drowning. I cough and a burst of bubbles leaves my mouth before the water is sucked into my lungs, before everything starts shaking.
Why is everything moving so fast? Where are the fish? Where are the seahorses?
And Jonah...where is Jonah?
***
Although I refused to go back to the doctor, I couldn’t help looking up symptoms of my diagnosis. Most websites said basically the same thing: that everyone was different and no two tumors grew the same way. There were only two stages, and neither was better to have than the other. Some people would experience nothing but slight nausea once in a while and some would have extreme symptoms. Like grinding headaches and nosebleeds.
However, not many varied on the life expectancy issue. Once diagnosed, patients with an advanced stage of Oligodendroglioma that could not be removed had even less time than the doctor had given me.
But I couldn’t help my fingers typing against the keys. I couldn’t stop looking for something that wasn’t bad news. More symptoms popped up like the first daisies of spring: hearing and vision loss, weakness in limbs, memory loss or black outs, seizures in rare cases. It seemed that the more I searched, the less hope I found. I still began each night looking up the incredibly long and unpronounceable name. Sometimes I would only search a few seconds, sometimes I would search up until my and Jonah’s late night chats, using the research as fuel to convince me further that going to meet a complete stranger who would pay me for sex and blood was a good idea.
He’d ask how my day was and I’d say something like, “Fine. Uneventful.” All the while, fear blossomed behind my skull. Not because of my growing feelings for Jonah, but because of what was growing inside of me.
***
I wake up and Jonah is standing above me, hands on either side of my face. There's a ringing in my ears and my arms and legs are tingling, like they've just fallen asleep.
“Casey,” he says. His voice is loud and my head is humming. “Can you hear me?”
My mouth is so dry. I can't talk right now, but I nod.
Jonah stares into my eyes for a long time before he helps me sit up. The room tilts and folds in on itself, windows collapsing, floor breaking apart until eventually, all I see is one big mass of white. His hands on my shoulders keeps me steady and everything comes back into focus. Jonah hands me a glass of water and I try to grab it, but my fingers won't grip firmly enough. Tears sting my eyes and fear eats at my stomach. Panic gets stuck in my throat.
“It's okay,” he says, his voice back to its normal volume and soft calmness. “Let me.”
My arms drop to the blankets and he feeds me the water. It's enough to clear my
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