Page 90 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
“What was it like?” she asked casually, not in that too-casual way that meant someone was prying, but genuinely. Her brows were knitted together. “What was it like to grow up sick all the time?”
Maybe it was the low hum of the machines around me, or the fact that Liv’s taunting voice wasn’t there to deflect. Or maybe it was Dove’s voice, low and kind and not crowded with expectation, that made it easier than it should’ve been to utter my next words.
“It was shit,” I told her honestly. “I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”
She didn’t flinch or pull some crumpled pity face. She just nodded, drumming her fingers along the metal tabletop.
“I mean, I was five when I was first diagnosed,” I continued, surprising myself. “So my earliest memories of it are there, but they’re kind of hazy. Sometimes I confuse the two times. But I remember hearing the wordleukemiaand seeing the looks on my parents’ faces, like it’s burned into my memory. That’s never going away.”
The machines hummed steadily. I heard the woman in the corner flip another page of her magazine.
“They tried to make it magical for me,” I said softly. “Balloons and coloring books at appointments. Describing chemo like soldiers marching into battle to protect my body. Telling me over and over how brave I was. But that look in theireyes... I didn’t understand it then. I know now. The panic. The fear. My mom lost so much weight from the stress. I’ve seen photos. It’s insane. Their joy became measured by blood counts and test results.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“My brother, Thomas... he was seven when I was first diagnosed. It’s not like he understood, but he knew things weren’t great. He just knew the world suddenly revolved around me—and only me. He was so... we were so... close, back then. He’d lie beside me while I recovered from chemo, hold barf buckets if Mom was in the other room. He even remembered what foods I could and couldn’t eat, what germs were dangerous. He really had to grow up fast.”
Dove stayed silent as I spoke, her feet still swinging slightly, her eyes fixed on me.
“He taught me how to tie my shoes. Let me play with his Legos. He even punched some kid in the face who made fun of me when I lost my hair.” I smiled at the memory, feeling the tears build behind my eyes as I pictured him—my brother, back then. “Then I got sick the second time, and it was worse, you know? He was with my grandparents a lot more, or he’d be at school or training. He was out there being normal, which I get. But we drifted.”
The woman in the corner loudly crinkled her empty Cheetos bag before settling deeper into her chair, flipping another page.
“I don’t even know who he is anymore,” I muttered, swallowing and blinking the tears back. “There’s like this crater between us, you know? He never said he resented me or anything, but you canfeelthose things. I became our parents’ sole priority a lot of the time, and there was so much pressure, so much exhaustion. And it wasn’t just my body wearing down... it was all of us.”
I turned and faced the benchtop, resting my hands on it as I frowned, truly allowing myself to sit with these memories instead of stuffing them down.
“They really tried to hide me from the worst of it,” I muttered grimly. “But I’d hear Mom crying in the bathroom sometimes, and Dad just threw himself into work, anything to keep things running. He got very into schedules and lists and bills. No space for emotion. I mean, he’s not like that now, but he operated that way for a long time. And if anything broke his plans...”
“Sounds familiar,” Dove murmured softly, smiling as I glanced up at her.
“I know,” I said with a sigh. “It was rough. Watching the people you love wear down over time—turning themselves inside out with grief while trying to pretend I wasn’t dying... I mean, that almost became worse than the treatment the second time around. Especially because I understood so much more.”
The washer clicked gently as it shifted into its next cycle.
“Then I didn’t die,” I said with a bitter laugh. “Twice in a row, I came out the other side—a little worse for wear the second time, but I bounced back. Life seemed to go back to normal... or as normal as it could be. It felt like we all had to get to know each other again by then, but it was too late with Thomas. He was growing up. He didn’t want—or need—to be around me, and I got it. Then the heart stuff happened, and it all just went to shit again anyway. Turns out we were still stuck on that horrible loop of survive, crash, repeat.”
I paused, biting my lip as I held Dove’s gaze. My stomach twisted with the truth, not the curated version I usually shared online. I was suddenly aware of how still the room had become. The fluorescent lights still buzzed above us, the washer still churned steadily, but everything else had fallen into that fragile, breathless space where truth could surface, if only for a little while.
“I was really ready to die, Dove,” I said hoarsely. “Like, truly ready. I’d made peace with the whole thing. I’d been told it was likely—especially when my heart gave out. I didn’t make plans or apply for college. I didn’t think there’d be an ‘after.’ Surely not. Three chances? Are you kidding me? And then I didn’t die. Liv did. I got her heart, and now I’m here... and I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”
Dove was quiet for a moment, her lips softly parted. She glanced down, and she looked for a second as if she were hesitating, chewing her lip. She then gently placed her hand over mine, where it rested on the bench. Her palm was warm, and it sent a soothing buzz through me that nearly stole my breath. Her thumb brushed over my knuckle, and the motion sent a current through my chest, as if her touch had fused with the rhythm of my borrowed heart.
“But you are doing it, Ellis,” she said quietly, gently. “You’re figuring things out, one breath at a time. One day at a time. Onestateat a time,” she added with a small smirk before her expression softened again. “Living your life now doesn’t have to be some grand, perfectly styled recovery. This isn’t a movie, and you’re not an actress. This is real life. And sometimes, just being here is enough.”
I was still staring at her hand on mine as she spoke, my fingers trembling. I wasn’t sure if she noticed, but I sure as hell did. I swallowed against the heat of her skin, the grounding steadiness in her voice, and the way her words weren’t just meant to comfort me, they were meant to root me. To tether me back to the honest reality of what was, now, my life.
I looked up, my entire body warm, and met her eyes. I couldn’t look away from those soft brown orbs. She was so close—her lips slightly parted, her gaze searching mine. Soft. Unblinking. Her fingers still hadn’t moved from mine.
My heart pounded against my ribs, and in that second, as I watched her visibly swallow, I thought she might kiss me.
I didn’t know what I would have done if she had. I wasn’t even sure I wanted her to, but the very thought of it curled around my ribs, slow-burning. The air between us pulsed, charged and still—
Ding!
The washing machine chimed so loudly it felt more like a slap in the face. Like someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over my head.
Dove blinked and pulled away instantly, the spell shattering. My hand felt cold the second she removed hers.
