I wrote this story. It's supposed to be a short story but I think I kinda went a little long. Here's the start.
A Kiss Goodbye
The fifteen-hour flight to Manila seemed to take forever for Miguel. He wanted it to be over so much that he imagined himself opening the plane’s emergency exit and jumping out with a parachute.
“Anak, try and sleep,” his mother told him. “The trip will go faster if you’re not awake to pay attention.” She reached out to touch his hair, but Miguel turned away and stared at the clouds outside his window.
“I’ve already tried to sleep,” he said, quietly. “I can’t.” He silently wished for the nth time that he had left Los Angeles alone. But he was only fifteen, still a minor, and his mother would not have let him go back to the Philippines by himself.
While his mother slept, Miguel tried to keep himself busy to make the flight seem shorter. He tried to read a book he had brought, but he couldn’t make sense out of it. The in-flight movie was one he had wanted to watch when it first came out, but he lost interest ten minutes after the opening credits. He found that staring out the window at the black sky was the only thing that helped him pass the time. That and thinking about Stephanie.
Stephanie was special. She and Miguel had been neighbors and friends ever since either of them could remember. They knew how each other thought, what made each other mad, happy, or sad. They even knew the little things about each other. Stephanie knew that Miguel’s mother wanted to name him after Hans Christian Andersen because she was reading “The Snow Queen” when she suddenly went into labor, but his father said it sounded too foreign so they went for his grandfather's name instead. And Miguel knew that when they were in a fast food place, Stephanie loved to order French fries but would rather go hungry than eat them cold, so she always ate those first. These filled up her stomach so much that she would then only be able to eat half of her hamburger.
They also knew they felt something deeper for each other, but neither one wanted to be the first to say anything. So they stayed in their comfortable state of “best friendship”, each caring for the other more as they grew older.
When they were twelve, they made a pact to be friends forever even when they got old, no matter what happened. Miguel promised to protect Stephanie and keep her safe, and to take her out sometimes and introduce her to friends to keep her from becoming a spinster. Stephanie promised to give Miguel good advice and to keep him from making a fool of himself because of a girl. They had laughed at their oaths then, but now Miguel didn’t think he kept a part of his pact very well. He had tried, but he couldn’t keep her safe.
That same year, Stephanie started to get very sick. She started getting nosebleeds and numerous bruises for no apparent reason. She missed a lot of school days because of high fevers.
It was the most terrible moment of Miguel’s life when Stephanie told him she had leukemia. They were at an old playground they called the “sunset.” Stephanie was the one who thought of the name because they saw that sitting on top of the biggest slide gave them the most breathtaking view of the setting sun. “Actually, even if you’re just sitting by the slide,” Stephanie had said when they named it, “it’s still the most perfect sunset.” And she loved the old playground because of it. She and Miguel had sat there many an afternoon, watching the sun slip behind the far off rooftops, warning them that they should already be heading home.
That afternoon, they didn’t sit on top of the slide; instead they sat on the ground by the broken swings.
Stephanie didn’t want to waste time trying to sugarcoat it. It would only make it harder for both of them. “The doctor called it Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia,” she said, matter-of-factly.
“What does that mean?” asked Miguel.
“My brother and I looked it up. There’s something wrong with my lymphocytes, whatever those are, and they’re infecting my red blood cells. The doctor told us that’s why I’ve been getting bruises; I don’t have enough platelets.”
“Platelets?”
“The doctor said they’re an important part of the blood that helps it work properly. But he said my platelet count was too low.”
“Oh. How’d you get it?”
“It usually happens to people who have a relative who had it.” Stephanie sighed. “Kuya Jay figured that was it. Someone in our family had it.”
“Oh.” Miguel was amazed at how calmly Stephanie was telling him this. The second she told him that about having leukemia, he felt as though the ground had dropped out from under him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
“Okay, I guess, “ she replied. “For someone who’s about to die.” She pulled the grass out of the ground, slightly angry.
“You’re not going to die, Stephanie,” said Miguel. “So you’re sick, big deal. Lots of people get sick all the time. You’re going to get better.”
“Really? And how do you know that, huh? You’re not a doctor.” Stephanie picked up a small stone and threw it at the empty trashcan. The old playground had been abandoned for years; not even the people’s trash had come to visit.
“Maybe I’m not, but I know you’re not going to die.” Miguel looked at her and finally saw the tears he had been expecting running down Stephanie’s face.
“This is leukemia, Migs, not a cold. People have died from this.” Stephanie punched the ground. “You know what else Kuya Jay and I found out? Only fifty percent of the children that have leukemia survive, even after the radiation the doctors put in their body during chemotherapy gets it under control. That’s five kids out of ten, Migs. You’re the math genius, figure it out.” Stephanie put her head in her hands. “I have a fifty percent chance of dying.”
“But you also have a fifty percent chance of surviving,” Miguel reasoned. “Come on, Steph. Don’t think that.”
“Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I want to die? There are so many things I want to do. I want to go to high school, to college. I want to get a job, get married, have kids. These are the things that I want to do.”
“And you will do them, Steph, don’t worry.”
“I want to fall in love and be loved.” She looked up at the sky and whispered, “I’ve never even been kissed. What if I die before my first kiss?”
“You won’t,” Miguel repeated.
“But what if I do? Then I’d miss it,” she said, turning to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to miss my first kiss.”
Miguel reached out and wiped a tear from her right eye. “Tell you what. I promise to kiss you before you die, so you won’t miss your first kiss.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. But you’re not going to die,” he said firmly. “I won’t let you.”
