“Are you sure it went okay? You’re usually not this happy after your session,” mum asks, frowning at me in the windscreen.

I sigh. She’s asked me the same question four times already, as if she’s checking for something—if I’m lying? Or am I just saying it for her benefit? “Yes. It went okay. Better than okay.”

Still, she doesn’t believe me. “Really?”

I roll my eyes. She’s always the one telling me to enjoy—well, more along the lines of stop thinking of it so negatively—therapy and now, for the first time, I’m not angry and she wants me to be. “Yes. I wouldn’t lie to you. You should be happy that I’m not yelling.”

“I am happy that you’re not yelling. I just worry for you. If your therapist bothers you, I’ll find a new one. I don’t want you around someone that makes you uncomfortable.”

“I like my therapist. I don’t want a new one, mum.”

She sighs, staring to stress. It always happens—the cancer diagnosis heightens all her emotions tenfold. If she starts to worry, she worries. A few tears can turn into an emotional breakdown in an instant. “We’ll find a new location? If an office bothers you we can get her to come to our house. If that’s what you need, I’ll give it to you. Just say the word.

“Can I just stop the therapy all together? I don’t need it mum. You know that.” I already know she’ll say no. Since my diagnosis she hasn’t been as strict as other parents are, but if there’s one thing that she’s adamant on, it’s going to therapy.

Unsurprisingly, she glares at me. “No. The therapy helps you.”

It doesn’t do anything. “What do you think will happen if I stop mum?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to think about that, sweetheart. Don’t bring that up.”

I reach over and squeeze her hand. She squeezes back. She’s being a parent, I know that, but she worries unnecessarily. “Suicide isn’t a side effect of cancer, mum.”

A tear falls from her eye and she blinks it away hurriedly. We both know that I notice, but she still tries to hide it. “Don’t talk about that.”

“It’s true. I’d never leave you.” The words are a lie, because, yes, I will leave them. I have no control over that but I can control whether or not I shorten the time I have with them. I refuse to cut my life shorter than it already will be.

Another tear falls. She doesn’t wipe it away this time. I can tell that she’s done with the discussion.

“I love you,” I say, squeezing her hand. She doesn’t squeeze back.

“I love you too, honey.”

I sit back in the seat, just holding her hand. I don’t talk—about anything. Right now she needs silence and I’ll give her that. Now isn’t the time to talk to her. I’ll do it when she’s not so emotional—or, rather, unemotional.

*             *             *

“Come on. We’re home.”

“Okay. Is the door unlocked?”

Usually, after my session, both dad and Rick are home and they rarely remember to lock the door. Rick is normally playing on the PlayStation—which, he will no doubt be doing now—, and dad’s entertaining himself somehow. He’s one of those people that can’t sit still for longer than a minute. As long as I remember, he’s never been able to commit to something that doesn’t involve moving. It doesn’t bode well for him during my doctor appointments. He paces the whole time, constantly checking to see if I’m okay. Mum doesn’t fare any better though; her eyes follow everything that goes on like a hawk. I don’t think anything has gone unnoticed by her. I can’t blame them though—the doctors are determining how long I have to live and the numbers aren’t on my side.

“The door should be open. I have the key if it’s not. Come and get me if—”

“Or I could just knock.”

Mum narrows her eyes at me, and then she starts to laugh. I take a deep breath; relieved she’s forgotten about before—for now. Later on she’ll remember and become detached. Now I just want to live in a moment where she’s not worried about my impending death, and actually enjoying herself. A laugh is a small victory—music to my ears. “I guess you could do that. Your brother might now hear the bell though considering how loud he turns the volume up when he’s playing his video games.”

Thankfully, Rick has yet to start playing any violent games. He’s still playing Mario and Skylanders but I know it’s only a matter of time before he starts to buy the ones about zombies and war. He doesn’t even have to buy them himself. Hidden above the TV, in a cupboard that Rick can’t reach, are all dads’ games—the standard games of a forty-year-old nerd: Call of Duty and every other one about death. There’s so many I can’t even name them all.

“Has your brother told you about the new PlayStation that’s coming out?” asks mum, out of the blue.

I look over, frowning at her. “No. Why?”

She rolls her eyes. “He’s been dropping not-so-subtle hints about wanting it for his birthday. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you. Your dad and I both said no, so I assumed he’d go to you and ask you to convince us.”

If he does come to me and ask, he’s smart. If I let them my parents would spoil me rotten. They’re adamant about showering me with love and affection while they can. If I asked them to buy me something, they’d buy it,—he’d have the new PlayStation in a heartbeat. I don’t ask for anything though. They love me and that’s enough. I refuse to take advantage of them. Using cancer as a way of manipulating isn’t right—it’s only glorifying it and I refuse to do that. There’s nothing good about being terminally ill.

“Are you buying it for him?” I ask.

“Of course I am. If I don’t, he’ll never shut up about it. Besides, he’s going into high school; if he doesn’t have the latest PlayStation it’s the end of the world for him. I’ve already pre-ordered it. I’m not telling him that though. He’ll have to negotiate for it. I haven’t decided what the deal will be, but I’ll be sure to include chores in it. God knows your brother hates them.”

I smile at her. “Oh, you’re evil. Are you going to tell him you manipulated him?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, worst mother ever. Of course I’m going to tell him. I’ll wait until the deals over though.”

I laugh. Rick will not be happy. Chores are his worst enemy. Finding out he did them all for no reason will make him mad. He’ll get over it though.

Mum leans over and kisses my forehead. “Go inside. I’ll park the car in the garage.”

“Okay.”

I jump out of the car, walking up the driveway. The house isn’t big, but it isn’t small. It’s only three bedrooms but that’s all we need. It looks new, the white paint still gleaming in the sun, so it doesn’t matter how big it is. Who wants a giant house anyway? That’s a hotel, not a home. As pebbles crunch under my feet I walk to the front door.

I can hear yelling before I even knock. Unsurprisingly, Rick is yelling at the game he’s playing, complaining about cheating. I know he’s playing Mario Kart.

I knock on the door. Then I wait.

And wait.

Rick is still yelling at the game, apparently losing if his words are anything to go by.

Finally, after a few minutes, he stops yelling and TV volume turns down. I knock again.

From inside I hear, “What dad?”

“Open the door. It’s your sister.” I wonder how dad knows it’s me, before I realise he’d have heard the car.

“Okay,” Rick yells back and I hear footfalls walking towards the door.

To spite him, I knock again.

“I heard you!”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. There’s nothing better than annoying your little brother. I knock again, hoping he gets the message: hurry up.

“I’m hurrying!”

The door opens slowly, revealing Rick on the other side in loose shorts and no shirt. I don’t wait, walking past him, muttering, “Could you have been any slower?”

“Hello to you too,” he says under his breath.

“Where’s dad?”

“In the kitchen.”

“What’s he cooking?”

Rick shrugs, nodding towards the lounge room. “Don’t know. I’m going back to the game. Wanna join? I’m losing anyway.”

I smile at him. He’s so innocent to everything. He doesn’t have to start worry about anything yet, with years and years to plan it out. I lost my innocence young and I can only hope he keeps it. “I’ll join you soon. I have to say hi to dad first.”

“I’ll restart the game. Don’t be long.”

“I won’t,” I tell him.

Rick turns to the lounge room, unmuting the TV.

“Dad!” I call. “Hi!”

I can hear his laugh from where I stand. “Come into the kitchen and give me a hug. I need more than a ‘hi.’”

When I reach the kitchen dad is reaching up into the top shelves. He’s so tall he doesn’t even struggle to reach. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Need help?”

He jumps, whirling around. The pot, previously in his hand falls to the floor. “Alyson! Don’t do that. You scared me.”

The words would have sounded petulant coming from anyone else, but dad wasn’t anyone else. Over six feet tall, and arms as wide as me, he’s intimidating and scary. It isn’t a coincidence that he was a police officer. He has a soft spot for his kids though and he can’t say no to either of us. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” Bending down he picks up the pot. I don’t scare him again this time and he manages to put it away without dropping it again. Task complete, he walks over, wrapping his arms around me. “How’d it go?”

Laying my cheek against his chest, I wrap my arms around his waist. “Good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Good? Don’t lie to me, sweetheart, you know I hate it.”

“I’m not. We had a breakthrough.”

He clearly doesn’t believe me. “Breakthrough?”

“Yeah. We have something in common.”

“What?”

I shake my head against his chest. “It’s her privacy. I won’t tell you.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

He’s silent for a few minutes. So am I. I don’t attempt to break it, contempt to just be in his arms. Dad’s the level-headed one. I talk to him about everything. I tell him things I can’t tell mum because she’d have a meltdown if I ever brought it up. He goes and tells her, but it’s easier to confess things to dad. For him, patience really is a virtue.

“How’s your mother?”

I don’t lie. “In the car we had problems but she’s fine now.”

He kisses the top of my head. “I hate how this affects you two.”

I shake my head, my voice barely above a whisper. “I know. I didn’t want this.”

“None of us wanted this.”

I just nod against his chest. “She broke into tears this morning. I didn’t get to see. She made me leave the car so I wouldn’t see her break down.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wish life was different for you but it’s not. I hate that you have to be strong. You shouldn’t have to.”

“Without you we’d fall apart,” I say. The words are true. Mum already fell into depression half the time. She couldn’t take care of us. I was strong, but I wasn’t that strong. Dad was the only thing keeping this family together.

He sighs sadly. “And that’s why I’m never leaving. I will be here for you until I can’t be anymore. Everyday once you’re gone, I’ll hold this family up.”

I’m helpless to stop a tear from falling. I don’t say anything—I can’t say anything.

Smiling gently, dad wipes it away. “Hey. None of that. This isn’t sad—we don’t do sad. You’re my stubborn, headstrong daughter. No crying.”

I laugh but it’s weak. “Yeah dad.” I manage to stop the tears with sheer will.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers.

“I love yo—”

“Ally!”

Dad laughs, squeezing me gently. “Go to your brother before he starts a storm.”

I look up at him. He wipes an errant tear off my face. “Okay.”

“Go sweetheart. I’ll go and check on your mother. I might be with her for a whole so I need you to start dinner if it’s getting late.”

I nod, this time I letting go of him. “What did you get out?”

“Everything for spaghetti bolognaise is out of the freezer. You know how right? Boil the water—”

“I know dad.” I turn my head to the direction of their bedroom. “Go and take care of mum. She needs you.”

“Okay. Okay. I love you.” With a final kiss to my hair he’s gone.

Taking a deep breath, I compose myself. Rick already asks enough questions as it is; I don’t want to walk in the lounge room with tears on my cheeks. He doesn’t need the burden of knowing that his sister’s terminally ill. The news would kill him. As sad as it is he’s one of my best friends. I fight with him constantly but I love him. Leaving him to grow up alone will be the hardest thing I’ll have to face. I’d give anything to watch him grow up and mature. Sadly though, that’s not going to happen. I’ve accepted it, even if it hurts.

Happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts.

Surprisingly, the mantra works. Making sure the remnants of my tears are gone, I smile. It feels way too forced but I know it’s believable. All throughout my life I’d played the happy child with no worries about the future or the present. I’ve perfected faking happiness.

“Ally! Come on!”

“Did you start the game without me?” I yell back.

I hear a scoff from the lounge and I know that Rick rolled his eyes. It’s a habit he’s picked up from me and he does it all the time. “I will in a minute!”

Laughing, I follow the sounds of the TV. “I’m the boss! Not you!”

“Am not!” Rick sounds so much like the child he is, I grin. It’s a blessing seeing him innocent to the cruelty of the world. If I can help it, he’ll never have to find out. “Hurry! I’m starting the game—!” I turn the corner, greeted with Rick’s frown. “Why were we yelling?”

My answer is a shrug and a smile. “Hey, little man. Did you start yet?”

In response, he glares at me, as if I’d just taken away his most beloved possession. Crossing his arms in an attempt to look older and broader, he snaps, “I’m not little.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Really? You’re not? How old am I?”

He pauses for a second and I’m offended that he can’t remember my age. I can’t blame him though—I sometimes forget how old I am. My reasons are more depressing than a simple lapse in memory though. Every year I get older, is a year less I have left.

As the silence stretches, I ask, “Well? How old am I?”

“I’m thinking about it. Um . . . sixteen?” His voice is so hesitant, I know he’s forgotten. He’s just lucky he can guess well.

“Yes, I’m sixteen. How old are you?”

He just stares at me for a second, clearly wondering where I’m going with the question. Rick answers though. “Ten.”

I nod. “I’m sixteen, you’re ten. What’s sixteen take ten?”

“Sixteen take ten is easy. It’s—” His eyes widen in horror, eyes narrowing. “I know what you’re doing! You think I’m dumb. I learned that in year one! I’m ten!”

I walk over, ruffling his hair. “I know you’re not dumb. My point is you’re younger than me, so that makes you my little brother.”

Instead of answering, he shoves a controller at me. “Here. Play.”

“Okay,” I say, taking it from him.

I watch as he chooses the cars and the people. He uses the controls without even looking, something I could never achieve. I always lose because I’m constantly checking to see if I’m pressing the right thing. I’ve raced a whole race going the wrong way too many times to count.

“One day I’ll be older you know? Then you can’t call me little.”

 He isn’t aware of how true his words are. One day, when I’m no longer here, he’ll grow old and get married. They’ll have beautiful children who adore him more than anything else in the world. He’ll grow old and leave the world knowing he accomplished something. Me, on the other hand? I’ll get none of that. Just a future I can only dream about because it’ll never come true. I’d given up on wishing a cure would save me. There was no cure for cancer—once you had it, you were on a downward spiral that never stopped until it was too late. Chemo only prolonged my life by a few months—if that. It couldn’t change anything else.

“Ally. Ally?”

I blink, watching the hand wave in front of my face. “What?”

“You stopped playing. I need your help. I don’t want to lose again.”

Rick is smart—top of his class, according to his teacher. I’m surprised he hasn’t figured everything out yet. If he ever asks about my constant doctor appointments, he’s just told that I’m sick. Eventually he’ll put the pieces of the puzzle together. I dread that day. The only time he’d ever persisted with his questions was a few months ago when I’d had a round of chemotherapy. Everything had gone fine expect I’d lost all my hair. Explaining to him why his sister was suddenly bald hadn’t been easy and he’d asked about it constantly. After a few weeks he’d stopped. No one could figure out why but I assumed it was because he’d been able to tell that it had been a subject that wasn’t to be brought up. When I’d woken from the drugs to see all my hair missing, I’d cried. Of course I’d lost some of my hair. But never all of it at once. Mum had been worse, crying over locks of my long brown hair.

“I don’t know where everything is on the controller. You should know that by now,” I tell him, grabbing some of my now shoulder length hair.

He smiles at me adorably. He’s getting older but he’ll always be my adorable brother with chubby cheeks and dimples. “I do know that. Just guess because we’re losing anyway.”

“Blame the other people. They cheat.”

His eyes roll. “The ‘other people’ are computers. You’re just bad at the game.”

I nudge him with my shoulder. “I am not. I know what I’m doing.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” I reply, with confidence. I may be slow but I do know what I’m doing—mostly.

“Then why are you going backwards?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear in satisfaction.

I glare at him. “I am not.”

“Look on the screen.”

I do ask he says. Then I start to laugh. He’s right—I’m going the wrong way and I’m still crashing. “I’m two laps behind.”

He doesn’t look away from the TV. “Uh-huh. Turn around and race. I want to win.”

*             *             *

Before I know it, two hours has gone by. In that two hours I’ve been hit with every shell and I’ve crashed into everything you can. We haven’t even won a race yet. Well, Rick has come first but since we’re a team he might as well come last like me.

“You’re bad at this.”

I turn to Rick. “You’ve only just figured that out? We’ve been playing for two hours and you didn’t realise before.”

“I noticed.”

“So did I. I came tenth—that’s a record for me.”

“You just need more practice.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the nerd, not me.”

He glares at me. “You’re a nerd.”

I can only hope he learns better insults as he grows up. “We’re all nerds. Rematch?”

“We’ll race again. We won’t win though.”

I laugh. “It’s not like we won the other times. So who cares?”

“Kids!”

“Dad!” we both yell back simultaneously.

“Come on. Help me make dinner.”

Rick looks between the kitchen and the TV. He wants to stay and play the game—not that dad will let him.

“Rick! TV off!”

“Yes dad.”

When the TV is turned off we both stand and walk towards the kitchen. Dad is standing over a pot of mince when we round the corner. He doesn’t hesitate delegating orders. “Rick you’re on vegetables. Alyson come here.”

“Why doesn’t she have to do anything?” Rick grumbles.

Dad only raises an eyebrow, shutting Rick up. When dad tells you to do something, you do it. “Fine then.” With a pout Rick opens the fridge, grabbing out the vegetables.

I walk over to dad, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Yeah?” I whisper, so Rick doesn’t hear.

He whispers as well. “I talked to your mother. She wasn’t good. She just cried.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We love you and wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

I nod even though I know its lies. They do want to chance something—they’d stop their daughter from getting cancer. “Is mum coming to dinner?” Most nights she eats with us, but sometimes she just needs to be alone. I don’t resent or hate her for it.

“Yeah, she’ll come down.”

“Dad—” Rick stops, not wanting to interrupt us. I’m certain that he knows that dad is the glue that holds us together but I’m not sure if he knows the true extent.

Holding me at arms length, he taps my nose. “Remember. After dinner.”

I nod. My oxygen machine isn’t hidden in the house but it’s always in my room. Rick doesn’t question when I go into my room and shut the door. He respects the fact that I don’t want people in there when the door is shut—I do the exact same to him. Every night, I go and sit on my bed and just let the machine breathe for me. I have to sit there for half an hour before I go to bed. Once, I’d slept with the tubes still in and I’d only gotten myself tangled. The next morning hadn’t been a good one. Breathing had been nearly impossible.

“Good. Can you start on the pasta?”

I nod, smiling at dad. When I turn, he hugs me again. “If you find yourself struggling to breathe you sit.”

 Again, I nod. His eyes search mine, finding nothing but the truth. He kisses my forehead, satisfied. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” I whisper back.

“What about me?” Rick asks, sounding very whiny.

“I love you too. Happy now?” dad says with mock annoyance. “Enough. We have dinner to make. Rick, you’re on dishes.”

Rick groans and I stifle a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Yes, I’m serious.”

Looking at Rick’s face, you’d think it was the worst punishment in the world.

I look back at dad. He’s staring at Rick, clearly amused. The amusement disappears when his eyes find mine. They flicker from me to a chair. He doesn’t look away until I nod.