Blood And Ashes

Rose

It was a 30-minute ride to the airport; we arrived earlier than expected. I was hoping to see Morris' cute little face pissed as he was a little too impatient for his age. Miss Beatrice would have been buzzing either me or Dad's phone.

We were out in the terminal, expecting to see them.

I sat.

My Dad was getting worked up, he strolled from pillar to post.

"We could go grab some snacks, Miss Beatrice is gonna call when they've arrived."

"I'm starving," I added. He wouldn't object to that one.

Baby Rose always got to eat.

I wouldn't want him worrying over situations that were far from serious.

"Right." he let out a wheeze.

"Yeah."

"Come with me, Rose; what would you like to eat? I know mine."

He walked over to where I sat to help me up from my seat.

Urgh…Does he have to?

"You know, my usuals."

Cheesecake.

It always was, and always will be.

That's the only snack that entered my mouth, except some I took unconsciously which wasn't possible.

In the nineteen years of my life, I've always been the kind of person who loves to follow the order of things.

Did everything how as my brain was programmed to? If 3 years old, Rose would keep her crayons on the left shelf, the second rack; that's how she will keep it even when she's 90.

To put it I had a personal journal in which I wrote my daily to-do's

Cheesecakes were the only snack I've ever remembered dropping on my taste buds.

We spotted where we could get our treats on one side of the terminal.

My Dad got me the cheesecake and a freshly squeezed orange juice to tag along.

"Honey." My Dad called out when I started devouring my cheesecake.

Courtly.

"Careful, you'll choke on it."

It's an issue now.

This is how I usually eat cheesecake; just the cheesecakes, to be precise.

I went back to my snack, he didn't need a response.

I just had to eat slowly around him now so the effects of the fast consumption on my cheesecake wouldn't make my infected cells mutate and turn me into a freaking cheesecake-cancer-monster girl.

What the fuck am I saying?

I scoffed at where my thoughts stirred.

I think I'm being overbearing.

I wouldn't blame me.

"How do you see the health services at City Hospital?" He asked, taking a bit from the pretzels he had ordered alongside mine.

"Dr. Myron is nice; I don't know about that weird nurse that always clings to him each time he comes to run some checkups on me."

"I will have you know you will be going there for your chemotherapy sessions." He said through his laughter.

"And that clingy nurse…" he continued, "would be the nurse taking you for your chemo sessions."

"You don't like her that much?" He asked as he saw the excitement fade from my face as he said that last part.

"I never wanted to tell you, but I think I would now; the smell of that hospital irks me. I don't know how to explain it to you Dad."

I could explain the way that hospital smells actually, it is a sickening stench of amalgamation of drugs, hydrogels, and hydrocolloids

That smell followed me back home the day I came home from the kitchen incident; my left arm oozed from it. Also, the day I went for the blood fusion.

"Please find an alternative."

Thrusting my lower lips forward, giving him that sulky gesture that always works when I want him to get something done for my benefit.

"Is this just your complaints about that hospital or hospitals in general?"

"Actually…yeah." taking my left hand to the back of my hair, pulling at it.

It pulled off.

I've been to a few and I've shared the same amount of hate to all of them.

"Gosh…you know what?"

"Why not just manage for a while? I will get a hematologist who could come home for your chemo sessions. How's that?"

"That's much more preferable, Dad." I leaned forward to grip his chin playfully, he ducked sideways.

Just in, a call came in.

From my phone.

I didn't get calls that much.

From a few of my schoolmates and my dad, yeah. Aside from them, none.

Who could it be?

I checked the ID that was displayed boldly at the top of my phone screen.

"Private number." I turned my phone so my Dad could see it for himself.

"Hand it over." My Dad stretched out his hands, getting all defensive.

I really would love to take this call myself.

I handed him the phone, my ringtone still buzzing continuously.

In one beep, it was on speaker. He held my phone to his ear in a tight grip, the veins at the back of his hands were much more visible.

Whoever that's over the phone does not want to go for a fistfight with him.

"Hello? Rose dear." A soft voice came from over the phone.

I leaned forward, eager to know who the hell that was.

My Dad's grip on the phone loosened; he stood up immediately when he heard that voice.

"Beatrice, you've arrived?"

She must have gotten my number from Dad because I hadn't had a phone the last time she was here with us.

"What? My phone was silent. I didn't know that."

He took his phone out of his tight jeans pocket to look at the screen, he sighed and put the phone back.

"Yeah, yeah." We've been at the terminal expecting you guys so we decided to fill our stomachs. We will be with you shortly.."

He came to my side, urging me to get up and follow him. He made hand signals at me.

"Wait…just don't hang up yet; tell us exactly where you are so we can come to find you."

I had to leave my cheesecake unfinished, I drank the orange juice in large gulps and dabbed my mouth with the small napkin that was given to us before following suit

His movements were hasty, I tried to keep up but I was left to walk behind him.

"Don't worry, Dad, I'm right behind you; my legs can't catch up with your fast ones."

"Okay, sweetie, stay close, alright?"

"Got it."

There was a small crowd where we were; it wouldn't be too hard for us to maneuver them to get where Miss Beatrice and Morris stood waiting.

"Arthur, over here." I heard her call out to Dad.