Day 12

I made a card for Kyle's eleventh birthday, but didn't hand it to him. Instead, I just slid it under his bedroom door. I didn't want to see him that day and I walked quickly away from his bedroom door and slipped into the room that was right next door to his.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, dear," replied Mrs. Helder with a bewildered expression. "Want to talk about it, little Wren?"

Mrs. Helder always called me little Wren. If there was one thing Mrs. Helder knew in this life, it was bird species. She told me what her job title was once, but I forgot it. I just remember the stories she told me as she traveled the world, as a bird scientist.

I sat in the chair that was next to her bed up against the wall. "Uh sure. I've started doing something for another person here at the center but...I think I said something very dark the other day and don't feel like speaking with this person."

Mrs. Helder smirked as she replied, "Are you talking about the youngest person here at the hospice center?" She scratched her head before adding, "You know, the looker with a bad attitude."

"You met him, huh?"

"Don't really have a choice. We all have the same lunchtime together in the community room." Shaking her head Mrs. Helder chuckled. "Even though I don't feel as bad as him about being here, I understand him. Who wants to live out the remainder of their days in unfamiliar surroundings?" Her eyes took on a bitter edge as she said, "Not that my children understand that concept. I think they moved me in here out of spite for being a working mother instead of the homemaker they always wished for."

"It doesn't sound like he has a very warm family either by the way he told me about them." I shook my head as I said, "All I suggested was because he could write well that he should write his own obituary."

At first, Mrs. Helder looked at me like I was crazy. Then, her eyes took on a crazed look of their own. "You know, what that's a great idea! I'd rather write my own obituary than leave my children to describe me in very robotic terms. Is that why you don't want to visit him?"

"That's not the only reason," I replied, as I felt my cheeks grow hot.

"Spill it, little Wren," replied Mrs. Helder. "I'm not getting any younger."

"Well...I started to leave a birthday card for Kyle each day. Only because he won't get any older, you know."

"Oh, I know. It's tragic his story...or at least the bits he was willing to share when he wasn't being snippy. Anyway, sorry for interrupting. Go on." Mrs. Helder's smile was suddenly like a hawk finding it's prey.

"I left him a card today for his eleventh birthday. I didn't congratulate him in the card or leave a happy sappy message. It just said, 11:11... it's not too late."

"That's very cryptic," replied Mrs. Helder. "What would he be late for?"

"To apologize." I sighed as I said, "Why I expect a dying boy to apologize for something as small as cussing me out sounds so childish but there it is."

Looking at the clock mounted on her wall, Mrs. Helder's eyes widened. "You know what I think, little Wren?"

"Hmm?"

"I think it wasn't a coincidence that you came into my room ten minutes before 11:11 in the morning. Why you're hiding in here with me is anyone's guess." Mrs. Helder smiled at me and reached out to pat my hand. "My suggestion is to make as many stupid decisions as you can when you're young. Jump out of planes, travel across continents, and fall in love with as many handsome young men as you can." At the last part, she looked at me pointedly.

"You're not suggesting what I think you're suggesting are you?" I asked her. "I don't love Kyle."

"If you don't, then why are you hiding?"

"Because it's stupid to fall for someone who is dying," I replied bluntly. "I care about everybody here but care and love are..."

"Different, true dear. However, caring is in the same neighborhood as loving and I know you have a big heart. I see it in your eyes. Now come on, get out of my room and do some stupid stuff. If not for you, then at least for me? Consider it my death wish."

"Mrs. Helder, don't say that!"

"Why not? I've lived a full life. However that young man next door...will never be able to do as much stupid stuff as you'll end up doing."

I slowly get up from my chair and look at the door. Just as I do, it opens and Nurse Brickenhood has a relieved look on her face. "Renata, could you help us? Kyle is asking for you and he's throwing stuff at everyone who tries to visit him."

"Okay," I replied. I waved at Mrs. Helder as she vigorously waves goodbye with the corners of her eyes crinkling in smile. As her door clicks shut, I walk over to Kyle's door. It's ajar and I stand in the doorway with both of my hands up.

"Don't shoot!" I said as he has a butter knife poised to throw. Instead of eating his breakfast, Kyle used it as ammunition. I looked back at Nurse Brickenhood as I told her, "I'll visit with him for a bit. You'll be back in an hour?"

"Yes, I can check his vitals then," she quickly said before closing the door to Kyle's room.

I turn to look at Kyle as he held the card that had a big number eleven on it. "Sit down a spell?" he asked as he gestured to the chair near his bed with his chin. Sitting down, I can't make eye contact with him.

"How are you?" I asked him.

In response, he threw the butter knife at my leg. It didn't hurt. His throw was either weak or he aimed for my leg on purpose. "Don't ask me bullshit questions."

"Okay then; I see you got your birthday card."

"Yes. My eleventh birthday sucked actually. That why I found your message kind of funny."

"What happened on your first eleventh birthday?"

"I was diagnosed with cancer for the first time," he whispered. "Worst part was I was only eleven for a week when my chemo treatments started."

"You had lung cancer at eleven?"

"It wasn't lung then...it was in my brain. It took two years for the tumors to shrink. The doctors called it a miracle...I don't believe in miracles." I digested the information he just gave me and he gave me the time to do so.

I tried to smile as I finally said, "It sounds like an interesting obituary to write. I envy the writer."

"I don't," replied Kyle. "Think about it; Kyle Matthews kicked cancer once only for it to bite him in the ass the second time." I couldn't help but cringe at how he said it. "That doesn't sound happy at all now does it?"

"No, it doesn't," I truthfully said. "Still...did you think about writing your own obituary?"

"I'll answer your question if you'll answer mine, first." Kyle sat up straighter in his bed. "Did you turn in the story I wrote?"

"Yes, but the teacher didn't grade it yet. She will next week."

Kyle sighed, "Great. Well, about the obituary...I thought about how some stranger would be writing it if I don't. Or worse...my younger brother who's the Golden boy of my family as well as someone who hates my guts." Shrugging his shoulders he said, "So yeah, maybe I will. But I'll need a proofreader since it will be my finest piece."

"I'll think about being your proofreader, Kyle. Since, you're so high maintenance."

Raising his brows he said, "Well fine, be that way. Just know that I actually know people who proofread in their spare time." He opened his card as he said, "It's not too late." Looking up at me he said, "I'm sorry for cussing at you yesterday. I know you don't cuss much."

"I cuss plenty," I replied.

"Is that a challenge?" he asked me with a smirk.

"No. I don't need to accept a challenge of something I know I'm already good at."