Valentina Karas

We come to the consensus that Ronan shouldn't get his treatment at Horizons. Part of me regrets not sharing my first experience with that prison with my mom. The last thing she needed was pushback on something that could save her son's life. 

Right when we get home, I conduct research on the second hospital. St. Gabriel's Children's Hospital is a twenty minute drive from my house, but the inviting photos on their website quickly outweigh our concerns about the distance. They have the most modern technology and all of the treatments my brother needs. The website also includes comments about the staff's knack for making all of their patients feel like family. 

I'm about to present this research to my family when I hear yelling from their room. Although they sometimes don't see eye to eye, I can count on one hand the number of arguments I've heard from them. This is the first one that has involved yelling. It isn't my intention to be nosy, but I hear everything said through the paper thin walls.

"Tim, you have to believe me! I know what I heard." Mom chokes on a sob as she tries to get her point across. 

"I never said I didn't believe you, ok?" Dad retorts. "Everyone has bad days. There's no use judging an amazing medical facility based on one experience."

"But, Tim, this is about Ronan's well-being. A bad day for them could mean a nightmare for our son," Mom insists, the concern for her son evident in her voice. The weight of their son's battle with leukemia hangs heavy in the air, intensifying the stakes of the conversation. 

"Taking a tour, let alone leaving our son there is an awful idea. Leukemia is hard enough on him. He doesn't deserve to be in that environment." Her voice carries a mix of frustration and fear.

"Ok, you win. He's not doing his chemo there."

Mom is probably grateful that Dad sees her point of view. "Then what do you have against St. Gabriel's?"

"Nothing, Shania. You need to consider how far away we live." Dad responds, attempting to bring a practical perspective into the emotionally charged discussion.

"What are you saying? You want your own son to be miserable for convenience's sake?" I feel the weight of her accusation from the next room.

Dad is horrified at Mom's suggestion. "You know you're wrong for saying that, honey. It's just so far away from our jobs."

"That's a minor sacrifice. It's a good hospital, Tim," Mom asserts, hoping to emphasize the potential benefits of going with St. Gabriel's for Ronan's treatment.

"I guess that's one we can make. Besides, he'll be there for weeks on end," Dad concedes, acknowledging the practicality of Mom's suggestion given the prolonged nature of Ronan's treatment.

"I'm so glad you see what I'm saying," Mom says, a note of relief in her voice. "When we're not able to get Ronan where he needs to be, why don't we ask Valentina for help?"

"Why her? She deserves to enjoy her senior year," Dad questions, expressing concern for my well-being. I'm not exactly sure when I got roped into this, but both of my parents know my answer.

"I'm not saying turn her into our slave, Tim. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to do that for her brother when we can't," Mom suggests. 

My parents' argument gives me a revelation. These circumstances impact me just as much as they impact my parents and brother. I know Ronan needs my support, but there will be a few trade-offs in the process. I just hope my friends and teachers continue to be understanding. 

I would love to interrupt their argument and tell them that I'm happy to help them out, but something stops me. Instead, I knock on my brother's door. I don't know what makes me suddenly want to spend time with him over Katelyn or Layla. 

Luckily, he doesn't mind my company. "Hey, Valentina." He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes like it usually does. Concern fills me and I decide to check in on him.

"You doing okay, Ro?" I ask, my tone filled with genuine care. "Anything you want to talk about?" I figure it might be good to shift the focus to something more personal and comforting amid the tense atmosphere in the house.

Ronan doesn't look at me. "No...?"

"You don't have to tell me anything, but I'm always here for you." 

"Thanks, V." Ronan envelopes me in a hug. "I'm not gonna lie, the lady at the hospital looks like grandma's mean neighbor." The fact he remembers that even though he was about eight the last time we saw our grandparents makes me laugh.

"I believe it, Ro." 

"V, can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I say, anticipating a serious question.

"Does your friend Katelyn have a sister my age? I just want to have a girlfriend before I die." Ronan's question catches me off guard, and I burst into laughter at his unexpected and light-hearted inquiry. 

Catching my breath, I answer, "No sisters. She has cousins in Argentina who don't speak English that would gladly come to Tennessee just for you."

"Can I go there when I'm done with chemo and meet them?" I'm so glad his optimism hasn't wavered just yet. "I'll even learn Spanish."

"I don't really know if Mom and Dad will let you go all the way to Argentina, but it's worth an ask." 

The thought of a potential trip to Argentina lifts Ronan's spirits. Chemo hasn't even started and he's already planning everything he'll do when it's over. He's filled with optimism and innocence and I hope treatment doesn't completely rob him of it. 

"You take Spanish, right? Can you teach me a few words to say to her cousins?"

"Maybe later." I still have him politely calling me ugly in the back of my mind so I'm not telling him anything. "Watch out, Argentina." 

The next day, I decide to spend more quality time with Ronan. We share a quiet morning at home, finding comfort in each other's company. As we sit in the living room, I notice the sunlight streaming in through the window, casting a warm glow over the familiar surroundings. The mundane yet comforting details of our home suddenly catch my attention. I was super out of it at school, thinking about seeing him again. We're pretty close as it is, but I notice that we've been giving our friends time of day more than each other. I appreciate being able to hear about his day. If it matters to you, he hasn't given up on Argentina yet. 

He's understandably is a bit sad when I ask for privacy while I do my homework. I promise him that he will get my undivided attention in a little bit and I'll play a round of Mario Kart with him if he wants and he leaves me alone. A bit of guilt fills me at first, but my GPA won't maintain itself. 

When I'm done, he beats me at Mario Kart and doesn't let me hear the end of it. I just smile through it since it means seeing him happy for a little while. 

The joy of time with my brother momentarily expires when he makes a confession: "I missed you, V. You're always at Katelyn's or something and now I finally have you to myself."

I give him a soft smile. "I love you, buddy." 

"Eww. Don't call me that, Titi." He retorts, using an equally unflattering nickname. 

"When you're twenty-six and married to Katelyn you'll still be my baby brother." 

By Wednesday, I fully accept that life will look a bit different. Different is hard and scary. It means what you know goes out the window and nothing is the same. The known elements of life, the routines and expectations, suddenly seem like relics of the past. Everything familiar is in danger of starting to slip away, replaced by an unpredictable landscape where nothing remains the same. Adjusting to this new normal is navigating uncharted territory, where the compass of certainty no longer points in familiar directions.

Sunlight fills my room, its brightness waking me up before my alarm does. The sunrise outside my window enthralls me. Staring at the sky isn't my thing, but it is beautiful and golden with hot pink clouds swirled throughout. This sight is a reminder to appreciate the simple and beautiful things I used to take for granted. 

I feel a lot more energetic today than in the last three days combined. I had a good nights' sleep for the first time in what feels like an eternity. The clock indicates that I have more than enough time to get myself ready for the day. 

I didn't know how much I missed fussing about my hair, and putting on more makeup than just mascara and Aquaphor. These small acts make me feel like the old Valentina, the girl who doesn't know what she wants to be but knows she wants to make a difference. I welcome the return to normalcy and the version of myself I was before my world turned upside down.

Yet, in the midst of these comforting routines, a newfound understanding emerges—the realization that I am not the same person I was just last week. My brother's leukemia has no doubt reshaped me.

I notice Ronan is nowhere to be found in the kitchen where he usually is. Instead I find a puddle of vomit and my freaked out parents.

"V, your brother's not doing too well." Dad explains when he notices me staring at the throw up on the floor. "We talked to the people at St. Gabriel's and they're squeezing him in after school."

A wave of apprehension washes over me. Ronan's health, already in jeopardy, seems to have taken a turn for the worst. The upcoming visit to the hospital, once scheduled as a tour, now looms as a do or die type of situation.

Mom is gathering cleaning supplies, most likely to tackle the mess. "Our tour has been moved up. First we're getting the lay of the land. Afterwards, he's getting checked out by one of the oncologists there to confirm our next steps."

Next steps signal uncertainty from my parents about what's to come. It's not fair that they have to grapple with my brother's delicate health all the time. 

Today's definitely not going to be normal. The throwing up emphasizes the urgency of getting Ronan the treatment he needs to live. He is starting to deteriorate and there's nothing we can do except get him help.

Craving a distraction from the out-of-control situation, I reach for my phone and mindlessly scroll through my snaps. As I navigate through the digital snapshots of normalcy, I stumble upon Layla's persistent link to some private school kid's Instagram. The forgotten world of Knox's friend, the one she's been urging me to give a chance, suddenly resurfaces.

With an impulsive click, I open his profile, my curiosity piqued. Little do I know that this simple action opens a can of worms that I can't close.

~

we're meeting someone new next chapter...how do y'all feel?