Good-bye, with Love Read online

  Goodbye, With Love

  Copyright © 2015-2016 Niquel

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 978-0-9961492-2-8 (eBook)

  ISBN: 978-0-9961492-3-5 (paperback)

  This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used in a fictitious matter or are products of the author’s imagination.

  *Warning*

  This book is not recommended for readers under the age of 17 due to the use of mature language, adult content, and violent situations.

  Editor: C.Marie, https://www.facebook.com/EditingByCMarie

  Interior Designer: Tami, Integrity Formatting, https://www.facebook.com/IntegrityFormatting/

  Proofreader: Kim, https://www.facebook.com/Hawk-Eye-Proofreading-and-Editing

  Photographer: Lindee Robinson, https://www.facebook.com/LindeeRobinsonPhotography/

  Models: John Morrish and Victoria Morin

  Have you ever wished you could have something so bad, even though you knew it was forbidden?

  Jonathan Gates was just that—forbidden. He was everything I could ever want in a man: charming, a great listener, open-minded, and funny. It also didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes.

  We'd been through a lot together: breakups, makeups, firsts, lasts, and anything else you can imagine. I was once told he was my soul mate, but I refused to believe that.

  I didn't want to love him. I didn't want to fall for him because...he was my best friend!

  But I did, and I fell for him hard. I was in love with my best friend, and it was time he knew how I really felt.

  This book is dedicated to the year 2015. I went through a lot of changes, and ups and downs, but somehow through it all, I was able to release a piece of my creative soul through my writing. And it made me appreciate everything that I have.

  This book is also dedicated to my girls, who are my number one supporters and love me no matter how sleep deprived I am. And the rest of my family and friends!

  And lastly, this is dedicated to you, reader. Without you, I wouldn’t have the nerve to hit publish at all. Thank you for your continuous support!

  For you, MA...I'll keep going for my dreams for you... I love you.

  Synopsis

  Dedication

  Diary Entry: The Discovery

  Diary Entry: The Bad News

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Diary Entry: Holy Moly!

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Diary Entry: Magical

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Diary Entry: Meet the Parents

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Diary Entry: Birthday Surprises

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Diary Entry: Finally

  Chapter 19

  Diary Entry: His Birthday

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Diary Entry: Life sucks. Life is cruel.

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Diary Entry: Concert

  Chapter 25

  Diary Entry: School and Stuff

  Chapter 26

  Diary Entry: Winning

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Diary Entry: Ready

  Chapter 30

  Diary Entry: I Did It!

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Diary Entry: History Repeats Itself

  Chapter 33

  Diary Entry: Too Good To Be True.

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Diary Entry: Broken

  Journal Entry: Forgetting the Past

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Journal Entry: Official

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Journal Entry: What Have I Done?

  Chapter 41

  Journal Entry: Why Does This Keep Happening To Me?

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Journal Entry: The Love Of My Life

  Epilogue

  Journal Entry: The Best Day Ever

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Age: Twelve

  Diary Entry: The Discovery

  Dear Diary,

  I woke up feeling pretty gross today. I was sore everywhere and didn’t feel like getting out of bed, which was seriously weird! I’m always ready to get up and start my day, usually before the sun is up. My skin was so itchy too; I wanted to rip it off.

  Something scared me earlier. As I was scratching my neck, there was this hard lump there and it hurt like heck. I didn’t think it was a big deal until I felt another one in my underarm area when I was putting my training bra on. Is this normal? Do all teens get these weird lumps?

  Anyway, I’m too scared to tell Mom about them. She’ll make me go to the doctor, and I hate doctors! She knew something was off about me earlier because she kept asking me a gazillion questions. I lied and said I was sick then snuck back in my room.

  I just finished eating supper and I’m so sleepy. I’m ending my entry here and hopefully this weird lumpy-sickness thingy will go away! Finger and toes crossed!

  Mickey

  Age: Twelve

  Diary Entry: The Bad News

  Dear Diary,

  I don’t know how to write this without tears coming out of my eyes. I got some bad news since my last entry. Remember those weird lumps I talked about? Well I found out that they weren’t normal (like super not normal).

  I was in bed for days, barely able to move, and I wasn’t hungry. What? Mickey didn’t want to eat? I know it sounds cray-nanas. I’d wake up screaming in pain in the middle of the night some nights and other nights I’d wake up covered in sweat or I’d be freezing. I couldn’t go to school because of this and that was so not cool, because the school year just started. Everything hurt to the point where Mom decided enough was enough and dragged me to the doctor.

  The doctors kept telling me everything would be okay, but I didn’t believe them. I felt like everything they were saying was a load of bull crap. They poked me and stuck me with these long scary needles, and they took so much blood from me that I didn’t think I’d have any left. They kept taking pieces from inside of the lumps to test and smiled in my face to make me believe it wasn’t awkward.

  They put me inside this loud tube and yelled at me to stay still. I don’t like to be squeezed in tight spaces and I couldn’t stop myself from freaking out inside of it. It was like I was inside a tube of toothpaste and couldn’t get out. I wanted to punch the tech in his face so bad.

  It took about a week to get my results and I now know that I have stage two non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma, a common, treatable form of cancer. Those were the doc’s words, not mine. I had to search the web to figure out how to spell it! They told Mom that my treatment would be every few weeks and that I wouldn’t have to stay in the hospital unless I became really sick.

  Cancer—I’m only twelve—what do I know about fighting this? I didn’t think I could get it this young. I mean sure I’ve seen the commercials on TV, but that was other kids, not me. I’ve never been sick a day in my life.

  When I found out there was a chance I could die, I freaked. What would Mom and Dad do without me here? Would Dad get even more depressed bec
ause he lost his sister and his daughter and leave Mom? Would they adopt another kid to replace me since they couldn’t have any more? Get the boy I’m sure my dad has always secretly wanted? What if the treatment doesn’t work? What if it doesn’t get rid of the lumps? Am I going to be lumpy forever? Will this disease take over?

  I sure hope not! I have so much to live for. I don’t know what my purpose on earth is yet, but I’m not going down without a fight.

  I start my first round of chemo in a few days and I’m not ready. Please don’t take my hair you stupid drug!

  Mickey

  Treatment

  I looked in the mirror, trying to force myself to smile. My hands were shaking, but I had to keep myself together. I grabbed my blue crocheted hat and slid it off my head, letting my long, wavy brown hair fall down my shoulders. Running my hand over the top of my head, I wanted to remember what it felt like right then. Thick and full, a memory I would always keep if I lost it.

  Tears filled my eyes as Mom yelled for me to meet her in the van. I slid the hat over my head and tucked my hair back underneath, sucking in a deep breath before I grabbed my diary and left the room.

  The hospital wasn’t very far from my house, but it felt like it took forever to get there. Puke came up from my stomach and burned my throat. I grabbed a bottle of water from Mom’s freezer bag to take a few sips from it.

  “Nervous honey?”

  I sighed loudly. “Is it that obvious?”

  “You haven’t stopped shaking since you got in the van. I know this is scary, but we’re all here for you. We all know you’ll pull through, you’ve always been a fighter Mickey,” Mom said with a smirk on her face.

  She was right. I was born at thirty-two weeks and my lungs weren’t fully developed. They pumped my mom full of drugs while I was still inside of her, but nothing worked. The doctors prepared my family to say goodbye because they didn’t think I’d pull through, but I did. I was off the breathing machine by my fifth week of life, gained tons of weight, and was able to go home.

  “Come on, Mick,” Mom said, snapping me back to reality. I hadn’t noticed she wasn’t in the van any more. She extended her hand toward mine and I sucked in another deep breath as I pushed my hand against hers. The door shut behind me and everything on the way to the doctor’s office was a blur.

  “How are you today, Michelle?” Dr. Romaine asked.

  “I don’t know, okay I guess?”

  Dr. Romaine was very pretty. She was tall and thin with big blue eyes and short blonde hair that perfectly framed her round face. It was hard to believe someone like her would be giving me the drug that was supposed to cure me.

  “Do you have any questions for me today?”

  “How long will I have to go through this?”

  “It depends on how your body responds to the treatment. Younger patients typically only need one or two cycles, which will be administered in three-week intervals. You will receive a rest period after the second dosage. Your body will need time to recover.”

  “Will I lose my hair?” I sighed, removing my hat from my head. My hair fell over my shoulders and I flipped it on my back.

  “I can’t confirm or deny if you’ll lose your hair. There is a high risk of shedding or losing your hair entirely. It all depends on how your body responds to the treatment.”

  “Okay,” I sighed.

  “Nurse Sydney will be in to take your vitals, and then I’ll return to administer the medication.”

  The room was quiet. Mom sat in the corner, staring down at her phone while I looked around. There was an aquarium theme painted on the walls. The tropical fish looked real against the blue background. I lay back on the table and closed my eyes, trying to think about my future and hoping I’d get to see one. My Aunt Carol had recently passed away from cancer and she was only forty-eight years old. Dad was having such a hard time with it that I told him not to come to my appointment. I didn’t want to upset him any more then he already was.

  There was a gentle tap on my shoulder followed by a soft whisper. “Michelle, I’m here to check your vitals.” My eyes shot open and I was greeted by the nurse. She was an older lady with salt and pepper hair brushed into a long ponytail, and she wore gray scrubs.

  “My name is Sydney and I’ll be assisting Dr. Romaine today. I’m going to make sure you are as comfortable as possible, I promise.” She looked over at my mom and gave her a nod. “We’re going to take her into the OR then we’ll come back and get you in a few moments Mrs. Dawson.”

  After the nurse took all of my vitals, I watched her closely as she prepped my arm with a cold, wet cotton ball. “I’m going to insert an IV into your arm to administer your anti-nausea medicine and fluids, then I’ll insert a port into your chest, okay?”

  “What’s a port?” She pulled out a small round disc no bigger than a quarter with two openings at the end.

  “This is a port. We insert it into your chest so we don’t have to keep sticking you with a needle every time you receive the medication. It’ll stay in there for as long as you receive treatments. After you’re completely finished with chemo we’ll remove it.”

  A tear fell from my eye as she tightly wrapped my arm with a rubber strap and started cleaning it with a cold alcohol wipe. “It’s okay Michelle, this is the easy part. You ready?”

  “Yes.”

  She stuck the needle in my vein and left the open end dangling for a few seconds before she hooked up the bag of meds. Then she removed the strap and cleaned the upper part of my chest. She stuck a huge needle in my chest and then tapped it to see if I could feel anything. Everything was completely numb. She made a small incision and entered the small disk under my skin. Two catheters were attached to the bottom of it.

  “Dr. Romaine will be right in. Don’t be afraid, I have a keen sense and can tell you’ll get through all of this,” she said with a friendly smile. “I’ll go grab your mom.”

  The doctor came into the room before the nurse stepped away. The cool liquid flowed into my veins and everything seemed calm for the moment.

  “How are you feeling so far, Michelle?”

  “Okay,” I said, blinking the stinging tears in my eyes away.

  “Would you like me to wait for your mom to get here before I start the chemo?”

  “You can start now. I don’t want her to start freaking out.”

  She hooked another bag to my port and added it to the pole with my other IV meds.

  “Michelle, you’ll be here for a few hours until the bag is empty. Use this time to focus on other things, such as reading, writing, or if you brought music, listen to it. Try to remain as calm as possible. Nurse Sydney and I will check on you periodically to make sure you’re doing okay, all right?”

  I nodded and looked over at the door. Mom entered the room and pressed her fist against her chest. Her chin was trembling and I smiled at her to let her know I was strong and that I would be okay. The doctor laid the head of my bed back as I stretched my legs out. She told me to lie on my side and placed several warm blankets over me. I looked up at the clear bags hanging from the tall metal pole, and then closed my eyes. I’ll be okay. I will be okay.

  Mom made me stay home for a week just to be sure I wouldn’t have a bad reaction to the chemo. I felt fine until the day I woke up with a painful throbbing in my head. The sunlight beamed through my blinds and the moment I opened my eyes, I shut them. Too bright.

  Thump, thump, thump. “Mickey, are you awake? It’s time for school!” Mom yelled, banging on my door.

  “Mom, please, not so loud!” I cringed at the sound of my own voice. The door slowly creaked open and I saw her blonde bangs before she fully stuck her head into my room. She mouthed “I’m sorry” before coming inside. She’d recently cut her hair into a short style, after losing a ton of weight. Then when we found out I was sick, she retired from being a nurse and became an assistant at her friend’s online firm to stay at home with me.

  I rolled over onto my side and tried to sit up.
I felt okay until I tried to stand. A wave of nausea hit me and I fell to my knees, shoving my face into the trash can beside my bed. I dry heaved until my throat was raw.

  Mom kneeled beside me and handed me a bottle of water. I had no idea where she’d gotten it from, but it was cold and it would feel a lot better than vomit coming back up. I took my head out of the can long enough to take a few sips of the water. It soothed the painful burning sensation in my chest, but before I could drink any more, it all came right back up and out.

  “Mom, why do I feel like this?” I whimpered.

  “It’s a side effect from the chemo you had. You look very pale too, honey. I think you should try to lie back down. You can go to school tomorrow.”

  “Great, I’m missing more school. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to graduate on time.”

  “Yes you will. Your principal and all your teachers know that you have cancer. I’m sure they’ll cut you some slack.” She lifted me back to my feet and onto the bed, then placed the trash can in front of my bed as I curled up into a ball. Every time I was sick or in pain, being in that tight ball with my knees up to my chest seemed to help me feel better.

  I hurled one last time, then Mom gave me some anti-nausea medication. The nurse had given it to us to use if I felt sick at home. I’d been given some before the chemo, but I had felt a lot better then than I did now.

  “Try to get some more rest honey. I’ll see if I can email your teachers and get your lessons for the week so you can make them up when you’re feeling up to it.”

  “Okay,” I said, tightly closing my tired eyes and praying I wouldn’t hurl again before I drifted off to sleep.

  “Are you okay, Champ?” a familiar voice whispered, waking me up from my nap. I opened my eyes and it wasn’t as bright as it’d been earlier. I rolled over and my father was standing in my doorway.

  “What time is it?”

  “Four o’clock,” he said in his deep monotone voice.