The other side of the moon

3 hours, 4 minutes and 24 seconds since I first sat, waiting. Waiting for news. Any news. Good. Bad. Something to ease the impending weight lying across me. I feel lost now. No news is good news, Right? Wrong. There’s nothing left for me now. I stand. Turning away from reality I walk. Faster. Faster. Turning through a multitude of corridors, opening out to a maze of sorrows and despair. Fear. Everywhere. Tears flooding. I can’t breathe anymore. Why can’t I scream? Finally, I break free of the manic desperation and distress that clutches at me, crawling into my soul. There is still time. I have to go back. Where am I? The spurt of madness that erupted from within has disorientated me, directing me through endless tunnels and trails to somewhere new. My mother needs me. Suddenly in realisation of the undeniable truth, tears spurt from inside, draining the sorrows and worries within. Alone and lost I tumble to the ground, slumping against a sanitised wall and gulping at the disinfectant-filled air, desperate for something to hold onto. “You’re not alone” a voice materialising from nowhere states, “everyone’s going to die”. Slowly and precariously I raise my head, trails of tears scarring my face. A blurred figure stands before me, my eyes constantly watering the seeds of my face and restricting my vision. Using the cuff of my old cotton-thread jumper I clear my eyes of the newly formed droplets, displaying the figure of a boy. His head, a shining globe in the midst of darkness, a beacon drawing me in. And while his eyes appear hollow and fading, a glimmer of hope lies behind them. “Zak” The word slivers out of his mouth as he allows the wall to take his weight and melts towards the floor. His bony hand reaches out, clasping the sodden essence of mine. “W-who are you?” I tremble, afraid of the consequences that could amount from talking. “I’m Zak. Remember?” The remnants of a smile leaking into his face, curling at his eyes. “Now it’s your turn to state your name. I’ve heard that’s how polite conversations go.” “you have some nerve” my previous feelings evaporating “I haven’t even said that you could sit with me.” He laughs then, a strange and gurgling chuckle “I like you, crying corridor girl, you don’t take anyone’s shit.” “I’ve had a rough day,” “I’ve had a rough year.” “making this a competition, now are you?” Turning to face him, the moulds of our faces leave only inches of air between us. “Well, when you’ve got cancer anything’s more fun than sitting around doing nothing all day” “why are so blunt about that?” I ask, suddenly deflected. “About what?” the corner of his mouth curling up. “That you have… that you have… cancer” I whisper, afraid of the fate saying it aloud can offer. He laughs then. A true and dangerous laugh, making his sides collapse and transforming him into a wheezing mess. I sit there frozen in fear. “are you alright? Do you want me to call a doctor?” paralyzed by the thought of death and the overwhelming anxiety that possesses my body as I sit, motionless, in front of a boy I just met gasping for air. “I’m… great…” he breathes between bursts of laughter “I’m not dying” “what’s so funny then?” my eyes in a bewildered state of shock. “Cancer’s not a bad word, you’re not going to get kicked out of this hospital for saying it. I mean for God’s sake it’s plastered on the wall over there and all across this joint.” Sure enough as I drew my eyes away from him I was instantly pulled to a sign on the other side of the corridor. Big words pointing the way to the Cancer Ward. “The Cancer ward… Wait I shouldn’t be here... my mum…. I need to get back.” As I start clambering to my feet a hand reaches out. “don’t go” the boy on the other end of it pleads “Tell me. Why are you here crying corridor girl? What have you seen?” Something about him draws me in. I know I shouldn’t but this boy, he’s different, and I feel I can succumb to his wishes to tell. Freeing myself of the burden I have held within me for the past four hours. “It’s my mum” I say settling back down to the floor. People passing in the corridor don’t even flinch “That’s why I’m here.” “Make it into a story. That will make it easier.” “Okay” I giggle “Once upon a time in a land far away there was a girl called Viola…” “Like, as in Twelfth Night? It’s a beautiful name, for a beautiful girl” “I didn’t know you knew Shakespeare.” I say ignoring the last remake and turning my head in order to cover my blush. “You actually don’t know anything about me if you recall” He states, a twinkle in his eyes. “Anyway…” directing the subject back to the circumstances that led to this moment “Viola lived with her mum and dad in a fairy-tale palace in the middle of the wood far away from everyone and everything that could hurt them.” “You’re not even trying to make it realistic” his stare illuminating, crafting its way into my head. “Okay… alright… they lived in a two bedroom flat in the middle of London, barely paying the rent and having to work every waking moment to get by. The nights are rough and the day’s even rougher as they fight to keep the flat going in order supply their daughter with everything she needed to have a bright and brilliant future. That was all her parents ever wanted for her.” “At least they had each other” “Yes. That’s all you can hope for, isn’t it, when you are about to lose your house, your belongings. Your family is all you have left.” He leaned in then, drawing me into his arms and for some reason I didn’t resist. He felt like home. This boy who I had just met was hugging me and I felt drawn to hug him back, drawing him closer to my body and hiding my face in his shoulder. Still slumped on the ground, our bodies twisted together, painfully sticking out at awkward angles and dangerous curves. But I was not in pain. For the first time in a year it felt as though I was safe. Slowly he dragged himself away from me, making sure not to cross any metaphysical lines. “It got worse” I continued “The debt, the work, the loss of hours within a day. My parents were constantly at ends with each other over the tiniest of things; who left the milk out? Why didn’t you send the letter? Where is the book I left here? I know you took it? Stop trying to mess with me! It’s your fault we are in this mess!” The endless spillage over words overflow from my mouth, tumbling down and flooding the room. Zak’s eyes caress the floor searching through the words to find me. My trembling hands are soothed by rough skin, holding onto the real me and drawing me back into reality. I am not alone anymore. This boy I hardly know, knows more about me than I have ever shared before. What is it about him that allows me to open my lips and bare my burden. His open and honest eyes, his simple and straightforward words, or the knowledge of his impending death? Death. That creature controls these hallways, searching for and dragging away the souls of dearly departed loved ones. What is wrong with our world? “My parents filed for divorce. They didn’t love each other anymore. And neither did it appear that they loved me. I was alone.” I pause gathering my thoughts “There was a big custody battle, with me in the middle, but neither of them wanted me. Not really. They just didn’t want to give in to the other, into any sign of weakness. I know they love me, they just don’t know how to be good parents. I’m 16 anyway so I guess it’s up to me now.” “How did it end?” “Mum – Monday to Thursday, Dad – Friday to Sunday, my dad taking Thursday nights and then both of them taking it in turns for Sunday nights. It’s a mess.” “How do you get to school if they don’t live together? Surely they are messing up your education in the process.” “Most definitely but luckily while neither wished to live with each other they still ended up living on the same road. Ironic, right?” I laugh “and this didn’t come into effect until the beginning of the holidays so I have yet to try out the arrangements for getting to school.” “Bet you can’t wait!” sarcasm leaking through his voice. “Well luckily school starts again next week so I won’t have to wait long” Silence creeps in as I pause. The rest of the world somewhat frozen as I continue. “My dad moved on fast though. Maybe that’s why they broke up in the first place because a week after the divorce was finalised Joanne moved in.” “Joanne. The wicked stepmother.” “euck” An imitation of being sick forms in my throat “She better not be my stepmother anytime soon. I already have a mother….” Realisation dawns on me. Why I was there. A compelling draught of sadness overcoming me. “My mother….” “What happened to her?” Zak whispers leaning in to breathe my jagged air. “Why are you here?” “she didn’t find love. She didn’t find money. All she had left was a daughter who consumed too much, took up too much space and time and wasn’t worthy of the mother she had.” “I’m sure she didn’t believe that” “You don’t know her! She hated me!” “Maybe she just hated herself and unfortunately you were the one there to receive these thoughts of unloving and pain, maybe they were directed at herself!” Our voices grew and intensified, anger spilling out onto the ground. People begin to turn towards us, finally noticing the broken girl and cancerous boy, deep in conversation on the floor of a hospital corridor. “You don’t know her!” Calm finally seeping into me “She is my mum and I only met you today.” “I’m sorry.” He says tears brimming in his eyes “I was just trying to help you, I didn’t mean any offence” “This morning she was acting crazy” I whispered turning away from his carved face and argument filling eyes “She wasn’t herself. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t stop her” Zak’s eyes meet mine “She was running around the flat gathering her most precious belongings and piling them into the car.” Tears quake on the ledge of my eyelids ready to plunge into oblivion. “She didn’t say goodbye. She didn’t leave a note. As soon as she climbed into the car I ran outside. She didn’t go far. 0 to 60 mph within seconds. Straight into a wall.” The sound of blood pounds through my ears my breathing loud and dry croaks into the atmosphere. Zak sits. Stunned. “Nothing to say Cancer boy?” “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” he grapples to his feet. “Zak?” he inches away fingers trembling “don’t go.” In the blink of an eye he swivels back to face me, clasping my face between his hands and drawing me into his lips. “Zak?” I question as I pull back. His face stunned, stares back at me, opening up my soul. “You should go see your mother. She needs you more than I do right now.” He stands to go, trailing softly down the corridor before turning and heading back to his room. Wherever it may be. Stopping shortly before he turns the corner out of sight he sighs “See you around crying corridor girl it was nice talking to you.” And he was gone. Still slumped on the ground I smile, it moves through my body, transforming me into a mess of laughing limbs. I stay a few moments more consuming the scene before standing and slowly floating back towards the heart of the hospital.