Valentina Karas

"The food smells so good. I might have to snag some before the other people arrive." Katelyn says when we're in my room.

I chuckle, knowing the potential consequences. "Tread carefully, girl. My parents wouldn't even let Ronan and I into the kitchen while she was cooking. Especially my mom."

"Fuck." She whispers, a smirk playing on her lips. "I only had Celsius and sour skittles today. I'm starving."

"Katelyn, that's not good." I shake my head, thinking about this girl and her energy drink obsession. "Just be patient for a little longer, ok?"

It took a lot of begging and pleading to make my best friend come over, but in the end, it worked. Katelyn often forgets that she's basically part of our family and our house is hers. She said she didn't want to interrupt a "private moment".

Since Wednesday, my parents have been planning a get together with neighbors, relatives, and friends. I thought it was a brilliant idea until Mom made Ronan and I spend our morning cleaning before the guests arrive, giving them the impression we have it together when our family's life is kind of hanging in the balance.

"I'm actually so glad you're here. I know you'd rather be cuddling Sawyer than hanging out with random people, but Ronan loves you so much." I admit, my eyes meeting hers. 

Katelyn nods. "Thanks for inviting me. It means a lot."

I smile, appreciating her presence. "Of course, Katelyn. You're family, and Ronan needs to be surrounded by the people who care about him."

The aroma of home-cooked food wafts through the air, making my stomach growl. I resist the temptation to sneak into the kitchen before the other guests come.

"So, has Sawyer asked you to be his girlfriend yet?" I question.

"Not exactly." Katelyn claps her hands, an excited smile on her face. "Even better, he asked me to go to Mountain View's homecoming with him."

"I'm so excited for you, girl!" I squeal.  

Katelyn can't wipe that smile off her face. "It isn't for another three weeks. Layla and I are going dress shopping next weekend."

"That's exciting." I say, trying to sound genuinely excited. I feel a little left out, but I don't take the focus off of her.

Katelyn, being the telepathist she is, reads my face. "Sawyer mentioned Asher doesn't have a date."

"And?" 

"V, you're blushing." Katelyn points out. "If he asked you, would you say yes?"

I think about my answer. Realistically, he's a junior and I'm a senior and with all of the attention he gets, he probably doesn't even think about me that much. "Why can't he just ask one of the many girls who make googly eyes at him?"

She shrugs. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but y'all would be cute together."

I roll my eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I barely know him. It's not like anything could happen."

"Come on, V." Katelyn folds her arms across her chest. "What about our two man?"

I frown. "There's no shot he's going to ask me."

In reality, saying I want him to ask me is a huge understatement. I want nothing more than to get to know him better, but getting the super hot Asher Mendez to be my homecoming date is merely wishful thinking.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, girl." Katelyn relents. "Let me show you my top dress picks so far."

As I give her my opinions on the dresses she shows me, I can't seem to focus. Don't get me wrong, we love shopping together and making our parents' pockets hurt, but today I'm a little out of it. A lot is on my mind: my brother, my family, the future, maybe a certain Puerto Rican is included in those thoughts. Why do I give Asher the time of day when he probably won't reciprocate my feelings?

My grandparents on both sides are devout Catholics, going to mass not just on Sunday but visiting church whenever they can. Much to their dismay, my parents aren't nearly as religious as they are. My family goes to mass and stuff, but we don't overdo it like our pious grandparents.

Once when I was about four or five, my grandparents dropped me off at children's church while they sang hymns and participated in long rituals for two straight hours. I can't tell you I remember the other kids in that huge room with me, not to mention what the room itself looked like, but I remember what the children's pastor said verbatim. 

"Remember," the pastor said to us squirming children. "God loves all of His children equally. We all have special gifts and talents that He wants us to use for His good." We went around the room, taking turns talking about what we were good at. 

At the end of this exercise, the pastor, a fat old man, explained: "Some people are good at drawing, others are more sporty. To God, it's not important what makes us different. What matters is that no matter how different we are from each other, God thinks we're all special. I think that's awesome."

I want to tell that old man about Asher. God loves all of His children, but I think He spends extra time on some of them. That's why Katelyn, Annabelle, and Leah are all prettier than me, but that's besides the point.

He's so...majestic. The way his dark curls perfectly frame his face and his dimples that appear even at the slightest movement of his lips left an imprint in my mind. My mind keeps wandering back to that moment in the car when Asher tapped on the window, genuine concern etched on his face. The image of him standing there, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his perfect features, is something I can't easily forget. It's like his presence left a mark on my thoughts, and I find myself drawn to the memory.

God has favorites. I'm definitely not one of them, but I can't say the same about Asher.

~

Hours later, the get together is in full swing. It's filled with many faces, both people I know and people I don't. No matter what, it makes me happy to see all of the support Ronan has. As the evening progresses, our home transforms into a laughter-filled haven. Friends, relatives, and neighbors gather to show their support for Ronan, forming a diverse tapestry of faces united by a shared purpose. The air is filled with a sense of camaraderie, as people exchange stories, laughter, and well-wishes.

The aroma of delicious food wafts through the house, courtesy of the potluck-style gathering. Homemade dishes from caring neighbors sit side by side with comforting favorites crafted by my mom. In one corner, my dad engages in animated conversations with some coworkers, their banter occasionally punctuated by bursts of laughter. Despite the challenging week we've had, my dad seems to be enjoying the distraction and camaraderie, a temporary respite from the weight on our shoulders.

Ronan, surrounded by friends from school and our tight-knit neighborhood, wears a smile that belies the turmoil within. His friends take turns challenging him to video games, and the room echoes with playful cheers as the virtual battles unfold. It's heartening to see my brother immersed in moments of joy, even if they're fleeting in the face of what lies ahead.

As the night unfolds, I find myself moving between groups, expressing gratitude for their presence and sharing small talk. Each face, familiar or new, becomes a reminder of the strength that lies in connections. It's not about the grandeur of wealth or social status, but about the richness of empathy, compassion, and shared humanity.

The house is full of the warmth of shared stories, the comfort of familiar faces, and the reassurance that, no matter what lies ahead, we are not alone. Each person present contributes to the unconditional outpour of support and love.

~

The next morning dawns with a gentle warmth that makes me forget about the torrential downpour on the horizon. As the sun painted the sky in hues of soft pinks and oranges, I found solace in the dead silence of our home. This weekend held a weighty significance — a bittersweet pause before the storm of chemo descended upon our lives.

The aroma of bacon and waffles makes me march out of my room. I don't even stop to brush my hair or change out of my satin pajamas. It seems the smell also tempted my brother, who left his room at the same time I did.

We gather around the table for breakfast pretty frequently, but this time feels different. I'm always in a rush to see Katelyn and Ronan scarfs down his food in a relatively short period of time so he can play Mario Kart or some other video game with our neighbor's son.

Nothing about this morning feels rushed. My parents share memories from good times we had together as kids and even the not so good times we can now laugh about. Once again, I forget about the uncertainty that awaits us as we laugh over the delicious food my parents made.

"Once your treatment's over, we can go back to Florida." Mom says, referencing a trip we took years ago when there were too many consecutive rainy days and my parents wanted vitamin D.

Playing in the waves with my brother was a welcome break from the stress of middle school. We spent every day trying to build a massive sandcastle and getting drunk from virgin Chunky Monkeys.

"Or the Dominican Republic. It's a shame we didn't get to go with the Salazars." Dad suggests, sipping his coffee. Katelyn's family invited us on their trip to the DR, but neither of my parents could make it work. I had to watch her whole trip through her Instagram posts.

A few days into the trip, she told me about the handsome blonde guy who happened to live in our state. After a lot of begging from Riley and I, she finally decided to talk to him and they hit it off. One thing lead to another and she and Sawyer are a thing.

Ronan looks at me. "How is Katelyn, anyways? Is she still going to come see me?"

Before I have the chance to let my brother down, Mom scolds him. "Ronan, leave Valentina's friends alone."

Even though he likes my best friend a little too much, I'm still so proud of him. Ronan is a special gift, always being a shoulder to cry on and my go-to person to laugh with. His future is so promising: he has straight A's and an army of friends who love him unconditionally. The way he sees it, leukemia is merely a bump in the road and he's taken the news better than my parents and I. In his twelve years of life, he has given me more than enough laughter and happy memories for a lifetime and the least I can do is support him as he's supported me.

After breakfast, he drags me to his room to play Mario Kart. I've played more video games with my brother in the past week than in my lifetime. Ronan always begs me to challenge him to a round of something, but I turn him down since I know I'm going to lose to him and trying to beat him is futile. Although he wipes the floor with my ass every time, I genuinely enjoy myself regardless of the outcome of the game. These are the moments I wish could be framed and preserved.

One round, I surprise myself. I start in last place while Ronan stays ahead of all of the other racers. He's guaranteed to win and way ahead of the others until he distracts himself by talking to me. When he looks back up, he's in sixth place and he's livid.

I take full advantage of his distraction and speed forward, speeding past a lot of other racers in the process. I not only pass Ronan, but I also finish third and he isn't happy.

"You can't win 'em all." I comment.

Ronan's face is a mix of shock and embarrassment as he processes his tough loss. "How did you do that?"

"Pure magic." I tell him. "How did Mr. Mario Kart Expert lose?"

He shakes his head. "Don't get used to this, V."

"I sure won't." I say with a smirk.

After I proceed to beat him three more times, he pipes down and his little ego dissolves. He even has the audacity to accuse me of cheating my way into my four wins. The nerve this little fucker has.

Ronan insists on a quick rematch of Mario Kart, determined to reclaim his title as the household gaming champion. Unfortunately, he loses miserably. The tables have turned: I consistently place second or third and he's lucky if he passes the eleventh place.

"Just know that won't happen again." Ronan says, echoing our dad.

Despite his forty-four years, Dad has the maturity of a guy my age. He's generally a responsible adult: he pays his taxes, does well at his job as an accountant, and he's the best dad one could ask for. When Tim isn't checking out numbers, he has a fantasy football league with his college buddies, a hobby that pisses off my mom tremendously.

He was less than thrilled when he came in last and he had to carry out his punishment, eating food of his friends' choice from the dumpster. Since that day, he vowed to never come in last again. Mom had a field day when she found out about his punishment and demanded he go to the doctor and make sure he didn't catch anything, but Ronan and I thought the whole situation was funny.

"At least I'm not making you eat raw octopus legs from someone's trash." Dad's fantasy football plight quickly became an inside joke between him, Ronan, and I.

Ronan wrinkles his nose. "That's disgusting. You never know what it's touched. But seriously, why was there raw octopus in someone's trash to begin with?"

I shrug. "That's a question for Google."

We sit and enjoy each others' company without the distraction of the game. It's been a while since we've hung out. While I wish we were hanging out under different circumstances, it's a reminder that blood is thicker than water. Katelyn, Annabelle, Leah, and my other friends might decide to turn on me, but Ronan is stuck with me forever.

"You never gave me a play by play of the party Friday night" he points out. He was the whole reason I went to begin with. "Was it fun?"

"It actually was. I met some nice girls that can take turns seeing you." I kick myself for not getting Annabelle and Leah's numbers.

Ronan rolls his eyes. "No, V. That's boring as fuck."

"Language." I scold him, knowing I taught him all the profanity he knows.

We're the only people in the room, yet he leans in like I'm telling him confidential information. "How's that guy?"

I tilt my head as if I have no clue who he's referring to. "What are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb, Valentina," Ronan retorts, an impatient edge to his voice. "You know, the Mexican guy you said was kinda cute?"

"First of all, Asher's Puerto Rican." I clarify. "Second of all, I'm already worried about the family. We shouldn't even touch that can of worms."

Ronan studies me thoughtfully. "If you like him, you can tell me."

"Well..." I tell him everything, even the heartbreaking parts. Telling my brother about Asher just casually walking away makes the self consciousness resurface.

"Okay...I didn't expect that." He confesses, shock tracing his features when I'm finished with the story. I watch the gears turn in his brain as he silently processes the information. "Well, Valentina, it sounds like he cares about you. I mean, he checked on you when he saw you upset, right?"

I nod. "But those girls were so much prettier and more confident than me. Why would he even give me the time of day when they were there?" I question, the lingering self-doubt evident in my voice. "Why am I telling you this when you have real things to worry about? You have an aggressive form of cancer, yet I'm complaining to you about a guy. I'm an awful sister."

"Don't even start. Just because I'm going through it doesn't mean your concerns don't matter." Ronan says, squeezing my shoulder. "And don't say you're an awful sister. You're the best and Asher would be the luckiest guy in the world if he got to know you."

His words offer comfort, and for a moment, I forget about the looming challenges my family is facing. "Thanks, Ro. I needed to hear that."

He smiles, "Anytime. Can we please try and enjoy our last day together?"

His words change the atmosphere, filling the room with immense sadness. When Ronan was a newborn baby, he cried at odd hours of the night and my parents didn't get much sleep. Then, he started bringing his friends over to play video games, cheering when someone does well and throwing loud tantrums when they lose. From now on, his noise won't fill the house anymore and dead silence will replace it. The prospect of losing my brother makes a lump form in my throat.

"Don't remind me." I say, tears pooling in my eyes.

Ronan senses my distress and comforts me. "Valentina, don't worry about me. The people at the hospital will take care of me."

"You don't deserve to go through this at all." I say, a single tear running down my cheek. I might crush under the weight of the situation, and the weekend has been a stark reminder of life's fickle nature. Ronan offers a reassuring squeeze, but the sadness lingers.

Ronan's brown eyes are filled with sadness, but he nods. "I didn't choose to have cancer, but it messed with the wrong guy."

~

The atmosphere of our last family dinner is thick with immense desolation. Once again, Mom threw Ronan and I out of the kitchen. Not even our poor Dad was allowed to know what she was cooking up in there.

Mom never brings out the nice dishes, but tonight is an exception to that rule. Our parents' plethora of wedding china adorns our kitchen table. As I help my parents set the table, carefully placing each of the fragile dishes on placemats, I acknowledge the vast difference between our typical, laughter-filled family dinners and this one.

When dinner is ready, I sit next to my brother, supporting him the best way I know how. Like most nights, Dad says a quick prayer before we eat, but tonight, we're begging God not to let my brother die.

Mom and Dad's facial expressions are full of concern despite their efforts to appear collected. The normal banter and laughter are replaced by a shared, unspoken understanding of the uncertain path that lies ahead. Mom serves lasagna, her hands moving with a practiced grace despite the emotions that linger beneath the surface. 

Dead silence fills the whole house, sending a chill down my spine. Each day, our situation gets more real and the difference between today and the past unfolds in a different way. 

"We're going to get through this, Ronan," Dad says, breaking the silence. His voice is steady but carries the weight of parental concern.

I turn to my brother who is playing with the food on his plate more than anything. He doesn't look at my parents or me. A look of worry fills his eyes, replacing the light that used to dance in them. 

Instead of worrying about mean teachers and cute girls, Ronan is forced to spend his first year of middle school in the hospital, missing out on his friends and what life has to offer. My heart lurches for him and I wish I was going through this instead of him.

"How do you feel?" I inquire, turning to face him.

Ronan shrugs, still poking the lasagna like it's a piece of mystery meat. After a few seconds  of silence, he admits, "I don't want to leave."

"We don't want you to leave either, bud," Dad admits. "We chose St. Gabriel's for you for a reason, alright? It's a wonderful place to be with some of the best doctors in the state."

Mom nods, patting her lips with a napkin. "We'll see you as often as we can."

Despite the reassurances from our parents, the heaviness in the room lurks. Ronan's gaze finally lifts from his plate, and his eyes meet mine. There's a vulnerability in his expression, a silent plea for understanding and comfort.

"I know it sucks, Ronan," I say softly, squeezing his hand under the table. "But we're all in this together. You're not alone, okay? St. Gabriel's might be a good place, but home is where you belong."

When our plates are clean, Ronan announces he's going to pack a bag for his hospital stay. He's been putting it off for as long as he can and I can't say I blame him for his actions. We all follow him into his room, watching him sadly throw clothes and toiletries into a messy stack on the ground before shoving it into a suitcase.

With a final glance around his room, Ronan zips up his bag, ready to face the challenges that await him. As we leave his room, the realization settles in that our family dynamics are about to change. The road ahead may be daunting, but as long as we face it together, there's light at the end of the tunnel that emerges from the shadows of uncertainty — the hope that, despite the challenges, our family will come out stronger.

~

i hate this but it's fine...