The Disease

The sound of the school bell, signifying the end of the school day and the start of winter break, ignited cheers and cries of relief around the room. I grabbed my books and notes, stuffing them into my book bag. As I stood up, I swung my bag over my shoulder and joined the mob of kids leaving. But as I reached the door, my bag suddenly lightened, and a loud smacking followed after. I looked over my shoulder to see about 11 people staring at me along with half of my bag’s contents scattered across the floor.

I sighed. Couldn’t this day just end? All I wanted to do was get home, pack, and be on a plane to New York City, where I was going to spend my winter break and Christmas with my Aunt Joan. This would mark the first two weeks without an all-nighter at the hospital or a 5:30 a.m. false alarm. This break was going to be all about sleep, presents, and for the first time since my sister’s needle accident, me.

I turned around and bent down, picking up the books and loose papers that had fallen from my unzipped book bag. As I tried to gather my belongings in the middle of the doorway, my classmates tried to avoid stepping on or tripping over me while they were being herded out of the classroom by the invisible force called winter break. This meant that they would have to step on and kick my papers out of my physical reach. I rolled my eyes and began crawling towards the random pieces of my education.

I managed to round up all the papers, but one, as the last kid walked out of the room. I squinted to see if the paper was mine or somebody else’s unwanted grade. All I could manage to see was a giant C- in red ink written at the top of the paper before a hand reached down on the floor, picking it up. I followed the hand, with my eyes, up to its owner’s face: Ms. Roberts.

I pushed myself off of all fours and jumped up, beginning to wipe the dirt from the floor off of my hands. “I don’t know if that’s--”

Ms. Roberts stared at the paper she held in front of her. “Your book report on Pride and Prejudice.”

“Oh.” I stared at the ground. That would explain the giant C- in red. “I really did try to pay attention to the story, Ms. Roberts. I just-- I couldn’t get into it.”

“That’s a shame,” she said while lowering the paper, revealing a woman with a round face, rosy cheeks, gleaming light brown eyes, and stringy brown hair pulled into a loose bun. “I thought you would’ve liked this one.” She handed me back my book report and I quickly took it.

“Maybe I’ll like the next book we’re going to read.”

“Maybe.” She walked back to her desk. “So, what was it, exactly, that you couldn’t get into?”

I gulped. I didn’t know what it was, exactly, that I couldn’t get into, because I didn’t, exactly, read the book. Ms. Roberts stopped at her desk; her back still turned to me, and started sifting through a stack of papers. I stood there, silent, hoping that she would forget that she had asked me a question and would just let me go. After a few more moments, she turned around and pointed her finger to the table in front of her.

“Come and sit.”

I walked over, reluctantly, and plopped down in the first seat at the table.

“I’m going to take a not so wild guess and say that you didn’t read the book.”

I started to laugh nervously. “Well you see I started reading it the day you gave it to us, but then my sister’s machine started to beep-- I had to call my parents--”

Ms. Roberts laughed softly. “It’s alright, Mandy. You don’t have to explain. Your mother already did.”

“You talked to my mother?”

“Yes. She also said that this kind of thing was happening in your other classes. Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head. “No, not really.”

“Are you sure? I know this situation with your sister--”

“Whoa. You know about my sister?”

Ms. Roberts smiled warmly and nodded. “Your mother told me about that too.”

I sighed heavily. I’d had this “chat” since my mother deemed it important to tell all my teachers about my sister’s condition, ultimately, making me the school’s resident pity party. She apparently got to my 9th grade teachers, so I can be pretty sure that it will follow me until I’m a senior.

“Listen, Ms. Roberts. I know you’re only trying to help me, but I don’t need it. I’m not sick and I’ve done pretty fine job dealing with my sister’s situation for the last 6 years.” I looked at my wrist watch and then back up at Ms. Roberts. “So, can I go?”

Ms. Roberts leaned against her desk and began to stare at her hands. It made me wonder if I was a little too hard on her. But someone had to be the first to understand that I don’t need their pity or attention. I’m not the one who’s got the disease. After a few more moments of silence, Ms. Roberts started to talk, so softly that I almost had to stop breathing to hear what she was saying.

“I’m planning on taking a trip to California with my fiancé during the break. I think he thinks it’s kind of silly. And it is in a way. Us going to Disneyland at our age.” She looked up from her hands and towards the classroom window. “Did you know that there’s a difference between Disneyland and Disney World? I never knew that. I’ve been on this earth for 27 years and I didn’t know that.”

As I watched her talk, I could see something change in her features. Her face had lost its constant warm expression. Her gleaming brown eyes had turned to a muddy brown and her cheeks were pale. Even her hair seemed to be stringier than before.

“I suppose, though, that’s a very small amount of time compared to the others who spend their whole lives not knowing the difference.”

This whole situation was making me very uncomfortable and I wanted to get out of the room even faster than before.

“Umm… I don’t mean to be rude Ms. Roberts, but I have a plane to catch and I’m already late as it is.”

She turned back to me, some light back in her eyes. “Oh. Where to?”

“New York City. I’m spending Christmas with my Aunt.”

Her warm smile came back. “That sounds nice. I bet your sister is going to enjoy that.”

I immediately put my head down and stared at my hands. “Well, she’s not going.”

“So, you’re not going to see your sister at all during Christmas.”

I began to fiddle with my fingers. “Nope.”

Ms. Roberts stood up straight and took a step closer to me. “I see a lot of my sister in you, Mandy. She was very intelligent, like you, but had a lot on her plate while we were growing up.” Ms. Roberts sighed and looked back out the window. “She didn’t spend too many holidays with me or our parents after she left for college though.

I looked up. “Why?”

“I suppose she got tired of having the disease.”

A lump began to grow in my throat. Ms. Roberts wasn’t giving me her pity. She actually understood what I was going through. “But why? Didn’t she appreciate what you guys had done for her when she was younger? All those treatments, the hospital time--”

Ms. Roberts looked back at me and stood up straight. “If you’re asking if I appreciated it, then yes, I did.”

“But, I thought you just said your sister had the disease?”

Ms. Roberts laughed softly, almost like she was laughing to herself. “I said my sister had the disease, but I didn’t say she had AIDS. I’m the one who has AIDS.”

I shook my head. “I don’t understand.”

Ms. Roberts pursed her lips and then let out a soft sigh. “I don’t quite understand what you’re going through and I never will. But I do know what it’s like to be the diseased, attention-consuming sister. I also know what it feels like to hate yourself for hurting your sister.” Ms. Roberts took my hand. “I know you’ve probably been told this a million times, but it’s the truth. You shouldn’t take on your sister’s situation by yourself. There are people around who can help you share the load, even your sister.”

Mandy was beginning to cry. “My sister? But how?”

“Your sister loves you probably more than anyone. And I’m almost positive she doesn’t want you to feel ignored or unwanted because of her. Just talk to her about things. Maybe she’ll talk to you about some things that bother her.” Ms. Roberts let go of my hand and then gently patted it. “Just know that she doesn’t want you to feel the way you do. I know I never wanted my sister to feel that way.”

Ms. Roberts smiled, walked behind her desk and sat in her chair. I could see she was trying to hold back tears. I had failed at that myself. I stood up, put my bag over one shoulder and began to walk out of the room.

As I walked out, I looked over my shoulder and said, “Thank you, Ms. Roberts.”

After that, I didn’t look back. I ran through the halls, down a flight of stairs, and out the front doors of the school where I was, not so pleasantly, greeted by my mother in her min-van. I ran to car, opened the back door, tossed both my book bag and my body onto the back seat next to my sister, and then shut the car door.

“Where have you been?” My mother chided. “We’ve been waiting out here for almost half an hour and you know your sister can’t stand the cold.”

I looked over at my sister, Emma. Her skin was pale and her red hair was thin. The real disease was winning.

Emma smiled a toothy grin, “Are you excited about going to New York City?”

My mother glanced at me through the rearview mirror as she pulled out onto the street. “We’ll have to see if your sister’s still going. We were cutting it close when we were on schedule.”

I looked back at my mother through the mirror. “If it won’t be too much of a hassle, could we call Aunt Joan when we get home. I need to tell her that I’m not going to make it this year.”

“What? Why?” I could tell my mother was astonished at what I had just said.

“Well, there are only so many Christmases that we’re gonna get to spend together, so I want to be here for as many as possible.”

My sister squeezed my hand and squeaked, “So you’re staying for Christmas!”

I looked down at my little sister, brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, I’m staying for Christmas.”