If I Have A Little More Time (Part One)

Hey guys, I've been writing on and off, and I really wanted to share a few to you guys! Here's a short story I wrote, titled, IF I HAVE A LITTLE MORE TIME, hope you like it! Please comment! I want to get better at this! And if you don't mind, share it okay! :D

IF I HAVE A LITTLE MORE TIME (PART ONE)

I waited inside the examination room, waiting for the doctor to come with my result. Was it good, or was it bad, who knows? I didn’t keep my hopes high though; I’ve been feeling terrible all along. I just thought, maybe it’s time for me to know exactly what’s wrong. I couldn’t come up with inadequate reasons anymore. Fever, sore, terrible nosebleed—none of that anymore. I had my guess, but this was the final confirmation to it.

I heard the door creaked open, and Dr. Riley was there. He had a clipboard, with numerous papers on it. I couldn’t judge by his face, he’s totally professional up to this moment. I don’t think good news or bad news have anything different on him anymore. Totally immune to that he was—I could only think.

He sighed, the first sign of not a good result, and sat down opposite of me. There’s a desk full of papers in front of him, but I seemed not to see it. I stared right into his eyes, and nothing else matters to me but the things he’s going to say next.

‘Leukemia, positive,’ he finally said. Not the finest two words anyone ever said to me. Up to that point, I’d take any rude words people wanted to throw. If only things were that easy.

I laughed. Yes, I laughed. Why it’s funny to me I, I cannot tell. But I have a burning desire to laugh, so I laugh. I think no one in his or her right mind would acted the way I am now, but who cares! I have something that 81% died from. My chance of living is 19%, who knows where I might be. Luck hadn’t been a good friend lately, I should know that!

Okay, here’s why it’s funny; I dropped out of college because I don’t think I’m good enough to pursue a career in law, I had issues with the professors and I don’t want to go back there because it sucked! And then I took a part-time job working at a grocery store and at night after work I write, if I’m lucky my ‘novel’ would be published. But no, I’ve written nothing worth publishing, and I had to move back to my parents because I have no money to pay the room I’ve been renting, and I have to quite the grocery store job because my folk’s house is no near to that store. Oh, did I mention Katy dumped me when I left Law School, yes she did. And now I have leukemia. How great was that?

‘Mr. Smith?’

Then I realized there’s a doctor sitting in front of me, who might as well scribbled ‘mentally unstable’ in the paper, and I just stopped.

‘How would you like to do this? There’s sort of, treatment you can go through. They might help,’ he said, as he said it countless of times, easy and not scary at all. But to those who have been on the receiving end of those silently and subconsciously cruel words, they had options to choose from.

‘How much time? How much time left I have?’ I asked before anything else. In my head, I need to come up with a plan.

‘Not much, but we can be wrong at times.’

***

‘Mom, I don’t mind taking your classes sometimes,’ I said at dinner. She had been bugging me about part-time teaching so many times since I moved in. She said if I wanted to write good stuff, worth people reading it, I need experience. I’ve been tuning her off of my sound system but I think it’s pretty great that I took the job, and had my mind wandered off things a bit. What’s the worse could happen teaching kids right?

‘Well, ain’t that great? I didn’t mind nagging Jeremy, but sometimes you need to make up your mind fast,’ she said with a simple smile which makes you feel a bit selfish not smiling back. Well, I’ve made up my mind, mom.

I went up to my room after dinner. I’d spend 18 years in this room; I could see myself back years and years backward just being in this room. The wall painted variations of blue—bright blue, dark blue, ultramarine, and many kinds, in square patterns. My mom and dad help painting this room too and I never change it ever since. It is still my favourite room of all. There’s a table on the furthest corner from my bed, right next to a window, from which I used to peep at the neighbouring kids played on the quiet street. I peered down the windows and saw some kid running on the street, happily, innocent and content. It’s good to be them, kids worry much less than adults.

And now, I have like a year, or less, or more, who knows? Even the doctor can’t be sure. I need to get on my plan. I have everything I need—a computer, a printer, and lots of papers and inks.