Chapter Five : The Mother Who Was Dying

"What are you digging from the side of the couch? Did you drop rice there? I told you not to eat on the couch! Now go and sit at the dining table!" my mum yelled at my little sister who looked startled and then quietly did what she was asked to do.

"Maa, can I borrow one of your dresses? I have that wedding thing to attend tomorrow," I said as I picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and my mum peeked at me from above her magazine.

"Yeah, of course, dear," she replied with a smile, her entire demeanour changing. "We can even go shopping to buy some new clothes for you--- "

"No, no. I told you before also, I'm not going to let you waste any money on me." I bit into the apple and leaned against the wall. She looked conflicted, but I gave her a reassuring smile. I didn't want her to buy clothes which would only last till I'm alive. My sister could be given those clothes, but there would be memories of me attached and it would be unfair to her. I didn't want my sister to be sad.

Suddenly, my sister started coughing loudly.

"Swallow properly, Gemma!" my mum roared and she flinched. "Back straight, don't slump!"

Gemma quickly sat erect and I looked at my own hunched shoulders which didn't bother mum. My mum was soft on me and this was all because of the reason that I wasn't going to be here anymore. My mum was half Asian and half white, but let me tell you, she had really embraced her Asian roots. She lived up to every stereotype of an Asian mother, she was strict, a tad conservative and looked closely as to how we performed academically. I was saved from her wrath because I had quit school almost two years ago, was homeschooled after that for less than six months and finally quit that too when I couldn't do it anymore and just wanted to help my grandpa at his flower shop.

My mum's and my relationship was just recuperating from the devastating effects of the news that I was going to stop my treatments a couple of weeks ago. There was only a slim chance that I could live more since cancer had spread almost everywhere and there was no use enduring the pain of the treatments to live a little longer life. It was by far, the most difficult, but the best decision I had to make and it took me hours to think and days to convince my mum. The doctors supported my decision which made a great impact on my mum as she reluctantly accepted. Deep down, I knew that she was mad at me for this, but I knew that she had seen me suffer. She loved me and wanted to give me what I truly desired.

I was under palliative care now which helped me to ease my pain and suffering. It wasn't that I had given up on my life, but I just chose what was best for me. To stop the treatments wasn't like suicide, it was to help me lead a healthier life in whatever time was left. I was in the final stage of grief- acceptance and I had been in this stage for quite a long time. The doctors said that I took the news of dying better than the other patients did, but I honestly knew that I hadn't.

I was past the horrifying days where the news of my cancer had just dawned on our family and everyone had gone into a state of hysteria. It was almost three years ago, but the memories were still vivid. Our entire house was painted in the darkest shade of black and grey as everyone looked sombre and ruined. I used to not leave the room and cry endlessly until my mum or my sister used to come to my room with a plate of food.

Countless therapy sessions for me and my entire family, my family and friends reading books about 'How to cope with a cancer patient- Tips and Tricks,' like I was some sort of sorcery or mystery that people wanted to deduce. In all this mayhem, Jamal made me feel better with his frivolous jokes.

"Since you don't want to go shopping, you can wear the pale pink dress I had bought. I have just worn it once," my mum said while walking towards the kitchen and gently snatched the half-eaten apple from me. "It's dinner time dear, and one of your favourites is cooked, corn tortillas with mushroom gravy."

"Thanks maa." I cracked a half-smile. Rarely any days the dishes I disliked were cooked because of obvious reasons, but it didn't matter much. The medicines I took had destructed my taste buds.

"Gemma, drink water after you finish your meal," my mum ordered suddenly and Gemma quietly nodded.

"Maa, go easy on Gemma--- "

"You don't get to say what I do, I'm your mother, Joy," she said sternly and I pulled her arm.

"Come on, she's just fifteen and she's doing far better than the other kids like her. You cannot always be so strict with her, she'll--- "

"The world's a cruel place, honey, and a girl like her will be crushed. I'm telling you, she needs to be strong and independent," she retorted and I sighed audibly.

"Alright, but try to be soft on her. She feels like you don't love her," I said gingerly and my mum gazed at me, then she nodded faintly.

My mum was bullied because she was the shy, Asian kid, not that anything was wrong with it, but she was just different than the rest of the crowd at that time. My grumpy grandpa was really tough on her after my grandma died and it was because of his influence and her past experience that she was so hard on us. Probably.

Ever since I got cancer, she became real gentle with me. It was because of how gloomy I had become in comparison to my earlier life. My brother who was now twenty-three was at that time still in college, so my mum took out all her frustration and anger on my unsuspecting, little sister. Besides, my mum saw herself in Gemma who looked exactly like my mum- with her silky-black hair, warm brown eyes and porcelain-like skin along with her personality of being shy and introverted which was extreme at times because of her condition. On the other hand, my brother Shaun and me looked like my father with our typical blonde hair and blue eyes.

After eating dinner with my mum and dad who had just returned from work, I sat on the wicker chair in the porch to read a book. I heard some shuffling from the bushes, some giggling and raised my eyebrows. Suddenly, a tall, dark figure emerged out and screamed, "Boo!"

I narrowed my eyes at Jamal who scrunched his nose in disappointment when he realized that I wasn't a bit scared. I flashed a saccharine smile and continued to flip through the pages when he cursed, "Damn, it's that hard to scare a dying girl? I was hidden in the bushes for the past fifteen minutes with the bugs biting my ***, at least, appreciate my efforts."

"Ooh, Jamie, I got soo scared! I almost crapped my pants!"

"Alright, no need to be so cynical," he muttered dejectedly and frowned when he noticed the book in my lap. "Girl, you're dying---"

"Oh, I didn't know that! Thanks for enlightening me."

"Yeah, yeah, stop, it's getting annoying." He scowled and reached out in an attempt to snatch the book. I quickly held it against my chest and shrank back. "Really? You need to have some real fun."

"Real fun like what? Getting wasted in a bar while pretending to be older or visiting a hooker---"

"Hush, don't let my secrets out," he whispered playfully and my lips twitched upwards. "You need to enjoy, live up to all those shitty quotes about making your life the fullest and blah blah. You need a bucket list."

"No---"

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"You know what happened to my last bucket list, right?" I reminded solemnly and he opened his mouth to protest, but I shook my head. "I know it was two years ago, but I let everyone down, Jamie. I'm way past that rebellious stage, it's just a cliché and I don't want to die with people thinking of me as some selfish brat."

Two years ago, when I had almost gotten used to my cancer routine, I got these extraordinary ideas of a normal bucket list influenced by movies and friends. I didn't get past completing even two tasks in the bucket list when I was caught red-handed shoplifting and underage drinking. It felt like I had embarrassed my entire family and from that moment onwards, I swore that in the name of cancer, I won't go around smuggling and doing crimes which would only taint my soul and leave me feeling more hollow and dejected.

"Fair enough, but what's so interesting in that book anyway?" Jamal asked casually and I gazed at him like he had eaten my last pizza slice. I gave him an incredulous look like 'dude, seriously,' and he shrugged. "Yeah, tell me 'cause I sleep halfway through even picture books."

I sighed and leaned back on the chair. "I just like to lose myself in fiction to forget reality. You know, a reality where my life's too short to do stuff like they do in books. Or even in real life like falling in love, having children, growing old, finding some treasure in some remote island, murdering someone--- "

"You can still do that, I'll help you hide the body," he suggested while waggling his eyebrows and because of his creepy expression, I laughed.

"It was just an example. No, but really, the quote about books giving a thousand lives is true. I'm a living, somewhat breathing example of that," I said sincerely and suddenly, I heard my mum's voice.

"JJ, what are you doing outside? Come in, there are a lot of mosquitoes out there!" my mum shouted and I got up from my chair. "Is someone there with you?"

"Oh shit," Jamal cursed as his eyes widened and he stumbled towards the bush. "Don't tell her I was here, she'll---"

"Yeah, yeah, alright," I muttered and cocked my head towards the door. "Maa, Jamal is here!"

"Hell naw, why did you do that?" he whined as he scrambled from the bush. "I really hate you JJ, I can't believe I said that to a dying girl."

My mum emerged out of the house with a spatula in her hand.

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