Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I fought.
I took every small step I could take on the road to recovery, and even when I was told, after the worst round of chemo yet, that I wasn’t in remission and the only chance was a bone marrow transplant, I still didn’t cry.
Why should I? I had four siblings. One of them was bound to be a match.
And one of them was.
The transplant worked. I’m in remission. My hair is growing back. I feel…good.
How many people in the world must take for granted how good actually feels?
Because when you don’t feel good? All you want is to feel normal again. Even those days when you’re only a little bit sick, and you don’t feel perfect… When you’re chronically ill with a catastrophic illness, you beg for those days.
I get into the shower, scrub my face clean, and then, when I’m done washing my hair and my body, I turn the shower to cold.
And I stand there.
Letting the cold water pelt me.
It will ease the swelling of my eyelids, ease the redness on my face.
Because you know what it also does?
It wakes me up.
It resets me, as if I’m a computer.
Back to normal Raven. The Raven who is grateful for her second chance at life.
Raven, who would never cry over a man.
Once I’m out of the shower and dried off, I dress in black leggings and an oversized white sweatshirt. When I look in the mirror, I realize my legs look too thin. What the hell? Leggings are comfortable, and I like them. My legs will fill out. I’ve been eating well.
For the first time in a while, I actually apply some blush and a light color of lipstick.
No mascara, of course, because I don’t have eyelashes yet. But even with my peach-fuzz head, when I look in the mirror, I see some remnants of what I used to look like.
My cheeks are not as hollow as they were. And they’ll continue to fill out.
Though my legs are thin, I see they’re shapely.
I see the Raven I used to be.
I’ll never be that same Raven, but I will look like her again. It won’t take as long as it seems.
I head down, and Mom is in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast. “Hey,” she says. “You got back from Falcon’s pretty late last night.”
Except I wasn’t at Falcon’s. “Yeah, we had some nice talks. That’s why I slept in a little.”
Mom dries a plate and places it in the cupboard. “You should be sleeping, Ray. You know none of us expect you to be up before dawn like the rest of us.”
“I want to be. I want to be part of the family again. I want to get back to normal.”
Mom frowns. “Don’t force it, Raven. You’re still healing.”
She’s not wrong, and she’s right that I shouldn’t force it. But last night…
My mother has no idea what I did last night, but it took a lot of strength, and I was glad to use it.
Even if Vinnie doesn’t want to see me again…
Nope. Not going there. I don’t want to start bawling again.
But already I know I won’t.
Because even though I’m not sick anymore—thank God—my mindset is the same. Crying doesn’t do anyone any good. So no longer will I cry over Vinnie Gallo.
“Can I make you some breakfast?” Mom asks.
“Maybe just two scrambled eggs and a piece of toast,” I say.
“Coming right up.” I clear my throat. “I think I’ll go to Austin today to see CJ.”
Mom raises an eyebrow. “Have you been cleared to drive yet?”
“No, but I’ll just call an Uber.”
“That’s an awful long Uber ride. I can take you.”
I shake my head. “That would take your whole day. Dad needs you here. I can take an Uber. I’ll be home by suppertime.”
“If you’re sure.” Mom grabs some eggs and bread out of the fridge.
“I’m sure, but thanks for the offer, Mommy.”
I see her back quiver a bit when I use the word “mommy.” It’s what we all called her when we were kids, but once we hit our teens, we never used it anymore. So she gets a little emotional on the rare occasion that we do.
A few minutes later, she slides my breakfast in front of me, along with a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice.
I’m not a big orange juice fan—my love of Orange Crush notwithstanding—but I drink it. I drink it because my mother thinks it’s the most nutritious beverage in the world, even though, like most fruit juice, it’s full of sugar. It’s also full of vitamins, I guess, so I’ll give her this one.
Once I’m back at my own place, I’ll be nixing the OJ.
I eat my breakfast quickly, even though I’m not very hungry. Not that I lost my appetite or anything. I ate a huge piece of lasagna last night at Falcon and Savannah’s place.