All This Time Part 1 of 2

I'm in a closet, but the closet smells of tears, death and Lysol. It smells almost exactly like a hospital. There's one scent that's off, however. In the mix I smell puke and the smoke from my father's cigarettes. I can't see him, but I know he's there. He's getting his chemo treatments for cancer. Where is he? I can't see the walls of the closet, but somehow I can sense them closing in on me. They slowly get closer, inch by inch. The walls are now half a foot away from me from each direction. The scent of my father's approaching death gets closer and closer, but I still can't see him. I can't see him...

I slowly blink myself awake. Something woke me, and I can't figure out what. Then I hear it, my phone is ringing. I groan. It's 4 am, I've been asleep for exactly one hour. I press the green button on my phone and murmur

"Hello?" I can hear my voice crack, but that doesn't matter. I'm just annoyed that someone is calling me after I've finally fallen asleep. I have insomnia and don't typically fall asleep until 2 or 3 am.

"Daniel, is that you? It's Annabelle's mother, Vicky." Hearing my name spoken jolts me out of my half asleep state. I furrow my brow. Why is Annabelle's mother calling me now?

"Mrs. Valentino, is there a reason you called me at 4 am? I hate to be rude but you did wake me..." I say.

"Oh, I apologize. Daniel, Annabelle is in the hospital. She has been for two weeks and things aren't looking good. You two used to be best friends and... the doctors are shocked she's still hanging on. I need-" Her voice cracks and I can hear her try to stifle a sob.

"I'ts okay, it's okay. What hospital? I can leave now." She gathers herself long enough to read the address of a hospital two hours away. Then she hangs up. I rub the sleep from my eyes and grab a pair of jeans from the floor. I grab some shoes and walk out the door within five minutes. I manage to get in the car, back out and get on the freeway without getting in an accident. It's a relief, but a small one. So I call Mrs. Valentino.

"I'm on my way." I say before I hang up. I wonder what could have put Annabelle in the hospital. I think of the last time I was there, for my father's death. He died of lung cancer. I picture Annabelle in a hospital room and my teeth clench. We were good friends, but I stopped contacting her. She flooded me with texts and at one point she got so desperate it was kind of creepy. However, Anna was my friend and I owe this to her. I can't stand the thought of her in a hospital. Her thick, brown hair dying and her warm brown eyes without light. She was so quick to laugh, she loved to ask questions.

She still does, Daniel. Get a grip. Not was, is. Not loved, she loves. She used to correct your grammar all the time and now she would be annoyed at you for using the wrong tense.

The thought of her petty grammar corrections makes the corners of my lips turn into a half smile. She got so frustrated at my messy handwriting and my lack of punctuation. Then I'd tease her about it and her face would turn red if she laughed too hard. It was so funny to see. I try to mentally prepare myself with the remaining hour I have left to drive. I know she probably won't ever laugh like that again and I wish I'd spent more time with her. We're fresh out of high school, it's only been a year since we were Seniors. Yet, the only time I talked to her was if she had some drama or crisis, or if I demanded something from her. I feel horrible. I'm lucky I even get this last chance to say goodbye. I don't deserve it, I treated her like dirt. I'm so grateful I can make amends.

She loved me. She told me once. Now that I think about it, Annabelle told me more than once in ways that I only notice now that I think about it. The random numbers I would receive in texts (831), the way she wouldn't give up until I responded to a message. It was annoying then, but I always came first for her. I never gave her the same courtesy. I resolve to give it to her now, Annabelle comes first. I will stay with her until she dies. Then I'll leave.

I get off the exit ramp to the hospital. The two hours flew by. Memories of Annabelle typically annoy me, but now I think of her fondly. I joke to myself about how I rarely got to see her face. It was always the cover of the newest novel she was reading. On good days, it was an action or adventure novel. On bad days, it was a sappy love story. She never confided in me about crushes. I knew she like people but she always had a special place for me in her heart. Again I scold myself for thinking in the past tense. Annabelle is still alive. I will not turn her into a "was" while she is still an "is".

As I arrive in the front, Mrs. Valentino greets me. She gives a tired wave. There are bags under her eyes and her typically jet black hair is graying. I find a place to park and walk into the hospital with her.

"Mrs. V. Annabelle... why is she here exactly?" She blinks slowly and bites her lip.

"Annabelle was diagnosed with leukemia two years ago. She didn't tell you?" I shake my head. She has what my dad had. I see irony in this, but it isn't funny. Annabelle came to me for every other little thing. When her older sister was in a crisis, her parents were screaming at each other, stuff like that. So why wouldn't she tell me she has cancer?

Mrs. Valentino leads me down the hall while she explains Annabelle's case."Anna passed out two weeks ago, and it wasn't her blood sugar. The cancer was getting worse and we couldn't afford care for her at home. So we brought her here, and she's been here for fifteen days. It may be a shock to you when you see her, I just-" She stops outside of a door and I assume it's Annabelle's. "I think she was waiting. All this time." When she doesn't elaborate, I speak..

"Waiting? For whom?" I ask.

"For you." She says. I suck in and push open the door, and it is a shock. Annabelle's normally thick and curly dark brown hair is now lank and splayed around her head on her pillow. She lays on her back with her hands on her stomach, the veins in her hands stick out. Anna's nearly transparent eyelids are gently shut, and her typically plump, pink lips are grayish in pallor and slightly parted. There is no color to Annabelle's cheeks, and her skin in general has a gray tint. She looks... sick. I can see her fingernails are yellowing from lack of oxygen. She has tubes in her nose feeding her oxygen, but it doesn't seem to be enough.

"The only reason she isn't in intensive care is because that's not what she would want. She told me at home that-" Mrs. Valentino pauses for a moment, "-When she dies, all she wants is an IV and an oxygen tube and a heart monitor. She didn't want any other machines keeping her alive." I nod. "I'll just give you some time." Mrs. Valentino says before she exits and shuts the door behind her.