Question Kadis part 1

Monday April 9th, 2007
Louisville, Ky


'Who knew 8th grade could be so tiring?' I thought as I headed to math. The last class of a very long day. I don't remember a time when I wasn't tiered, always lacking the energy to do more than simply going through the day. Even a jog of no more than a few moments left me heaving for air and light header for hours afterward. But today was the worse I could remember in a long time. This morning had been fine but by lunch I noticed it was hard for me to stay awake. I slept through 5th period English and now I was struggling to make it through the halls without being jostled to badly. Being the smallest kid in the school by half a foot warranted a second glance when sight of me is caught while the fact that I hauntingly resemble a walking skeleton gets most people to make room. I guess my pale taunt skin causes most people to avoid contact in some subconscious reaction. Like by just touching me they'd somehow catch whatever it was I was dieing from.

And I didn't kid myself for a moment. My time on Earth was a limited resource. Doctors couldn't figure it out, no amount of prayers made a difference, they even brought in a Wizard in once, but that was a waste too. It left us with more questions than answers, giving us no more than a “That's strange,” followed by lame sounding explanations that it wasn't anything magical making me sick but by that point I didn't care. And now, to be honest, I'm really just tired of being tired. But I've never known anything else, so I wake up everyday, dragging myself out of bed. I go through my morning routine that included a high calorie-high protein breakfast that left me so full I practically rolled out to the car each morning. My adopted mothers loving attempt to help me start my day in the best shape someone like me can be in. Then she'd drop me off at school on her way to the hospital where she worked.

Kathrine Ann Thompson formally Kathrine Ann Thompson, no she didn't marry her cousin, we might be from Kentucky but we ain't from THAT part of Kentucky. Anyway, Kathy, “No one but my husband calls me Kat,” adopted me when I was a single day old. She told me the story once, after several warnings that it wasn't a happy story. She told me how someone had called 911 after finding her bloodied on the sidewalk. The mad rush of the ambulance to get her to the emergency room at the same moment it was being prepared for both a delivery and multiple stab wounds and burns. Just minutes after arrival my mother laid naked in the emergency room. Two doctors and a team of nurses all attempting to deliver a baby and stop the woman on the table from dieing of blood loss. The first they managed the second not so much. Kathy had been one of the nurses involved that night. Dragged into the room by the OBGYN she held my moms hand while she screamed, begged and cried out in a language no one knew but everyone could recognize the anguish in it.

An emergency c-section was performed within minutes of her hitting the table and soon enough I was handed off to Kathy who had the job of taking care of me while the others focused on saving my mom. They couldn't though and she died on that same table I was born on never having even seen my face. A plain blue dress and cloth slippers ripped, torn and covered in blood was all she wore save the claw shaped piece of stone tied by a cord of thin leather around her neck. I wore that necklace now, a tribute to the woman that birth me and a thank you for holding on as long as she could.

Anyway, I'd go through my school day of dull classes, loud kids and exhausting walks through the halls in that arduous game, at least for me, of beat the bell. A cholesterol filled lunch and a backpack full of energy bars got me to the last bell where I'd get a ride home with the only real friend I have. Always nice, forever with a kind word and a ready smile. Jennifer 'Red Hot' Franks was the shining star of the school. Amazing grades, great at sports and a level head, the proverbial triple threat.

The summer before 6th grade was an unusual one for me. Being fatigued was a normal deal for me, on on this day I was feeling pretty good and overheard my adopted dad Jason tell mom he was headed to the park to play basketball I hinted at maybe wanting to go. He was so surprised and Kathy was so happy that she packed me a snack in case I got hungry and dad got his really expensive chair-in-a-nag things for me to sit in. Laugh all you want. A chair you could recline in, has a cup-holder, foot-rest, a waterproof overhang and a net that hung down all around to keep the bugs out. A small piece of heaven that folded down in 3 steps to fit in a bag he carries and sets up before I can get from the car to the court 50 feet away.

It was bright but cool and thankfully the biters were not out today so I had the net up. Pad in lap and pencil in hand I lost myself in the feeling of being outside sketching in my pad as I watched Jason play basketball. Jason was practicing with his team, one of twelve in the 5th District Police Officers Basketball League. This was actually the first time she'd ever been to one of his practices and she felt a bit guilty for not trying sooner, even if she might have been tired. She might not know a lot about the game but she recognized that Jason was talented. He did like to talk about playing in college.

I'd seen her running along the 1.2 mile pavement that wound through the park and along side the courts. About 10 minutes before practice ended she stopped along side the bleachers and began to stretch to cool off. After practice Jason came over with two others in tow. “Alex, this is Michael and his daughter Jennifer,” dad says as I get up. I just stood there like a stump, I never knew what to say in these kinds of situations. “So, what's that?” All I could do was hand the pad over and dad bagged up the chair before heading to the car with me following. “This is amazing! Is this your cat?” And from that moment on it was a beautiful friendship.

“Don't forget kids, we have the field-trip on Wednesday. So remind your parents today and tomorrow that they have to drop you off at student drop off at 5:30am. Yes, yes I know that's pretty early, but we're going to a restaurant before the zoo opens. So don't be late.”

The bell rang then, and it was the normal hustle and bustle of every kid in every class trying to leave at the same time. Except for me and Jen, I packed up my things, slung the bag over my shoulder and headed out the door. “Are you okay? You look a little pale.” Jen asked once we were in the hall.

“yeah, just tired as usual,” I say back trying to laugh it off. But to be honest I wasn't feeling so hot. Well, alright, I was feeling hot, but the your a single degree from breaking out in sweat hot.

“I hope there's not a bug going around. It'd really suck if u got sick and couldn't go on the field trip.”

“Yeah it would be.” My chest felt heavy as we went through the routine of getting our homework stuff out of our lockers and then we made our way to the student drop-off, pick-up point where my mom was waiting.

“Did you girls have a good day at school?” mom asked before we'd even got our seat-belts on.

“YES MOM!” Jennifer and I say together while giggling. We talked as mom drove us home stopping at the store on the way.

“Here, just lay down.” Jen says to me pulling my head into her lap. “Are you sure your okay?”

“Yeah, today was rougher than usual.”

“It looks like it,” she said stroking my hair. “Your burning up. As soon as we get home your going to bed. We'll work on homework after dinner.” I think I answered in some kind of moan but after my head hit her lap things just seemed to fade further away into darkness. I was finding it harder and harder to breathe, my mind felt heavy, the sound of Jen's voice, far away. I could hear her saying my name now, repeating it while growing more and more desperate My mind was so sluggish I just realized I could barely feel my arms and legs anymore. The shaking Jennifer was doing to my body didn't even register as her terrified screams to not leave her. That she loved me and not to leave her alone. I'd known that I was living on borrowed time. That on any day my body would just give up on me regardless of what I wanted. I didn't want to die, not before I could tell Jen how I felt. How at the park, I couldn't bring myself to talk because my stomach was in knots. How happy I was to find out that she'd just moved to the neighborhood three weeks before that, right down the street on the corner. How for the last two and a half years my feelings for her had grown into something I was afraid to admit to, ever to myself. And as the light faded from my eyes, when I could no longer hear the terrified screams, when my thoughts stilled to nothingness, my only regret was that I’d never told her.

I Love You.