1952

3.

“Well, Hell’s bells… That was a waste.” she said to herself after watching Days Of Our Lives. A waste. I am wasting. Wasting time. What time? Wasting life. No. STOP. I wish I could just smoke…

Jean sat in her chair at the kitchen table, readying herself, steeling herself for the coming emotionality of telling her secret. Am I not in enough pain already…? And can’t I only feel it…?! Why does it have to spread?! WHY DO THE PAIN AND CELLS HAVE TO SPREAD?! Because misery loves company. ‘Misery’. Mm… Good movie. “Joe hates the leg part…” she smiled wistfully, a private smile between herself and a memory of one of her sons. I still remember the way he moved as a child; jerky and quick like he was out of time… Time. I still remember the way his little arms wrapped around me before bed. Little arms and then big, strong arms. How do I tell Joe? My Joe. How could I ever be away from my Joe…? He is just like me. Not like Lisa. Not even like Terry, his twin… Like ME. He would face this, head on. So would Terry. They would fight. For me, they would fight. So, I will fight for them. You have to fight. Maybe you can beat this. Maybe you can beat this before you even have to say anything. Stage four. … No, it’s lonely... And I’m done.

On her way back from the bathroom, Jean stopped at the refrigerator for another beer. “Damn this leg!!” she hissed as she sat back in her chair, phone in hand. 10:01PM. She poured the beer and sprinkled the salt. She swallowed a pill with a long drink and marvelled at the minor discomfort she was currently feeling in her mouth. Ready now. Jean dialed the number she knew by heart from the day she received it. Little pain now…

It rang twice, “Hellooo…?” Jean could hear the smile in her sister’s voice.

“Hello, Jan.”

L.L. Flores 2021