Song~ Sweater Weather by the Neighborhood 

***

I sit on a doctors bench with my legs dangling off the edge and swinging back and forth in a repeated pattern. Right leg, left leg, right leg, left leg over and over again. My hands are tightly gripping the edge of the bench so hard my knuckles are turning white and the parchment cover crinkles under my grasp. I relax a bit bringing back some of the color in my knuckles.

  The tall balding doctor that currently has a needle jabbed in my arm looks up at me. He opens his mouth to speak and I give him a look that tells him I'm not in the mood to answer his questions. I know it's coming. It's the same questions he's asked me every time I've come here for the past one and a half years. I shake my head slightly. Don't do it.

"How are you feeling?" He asks for the millionth time.

Oh my god. I roll my eyes inwardly.

"Good." I reply simply for the millionth time. He takes the needle out of my arm and puts a band-aid over the prick that starts to produce a small amount of blood.

"Vivian, would you like to elaborate at all? Do you feel depressed or hungry or tired-" I tune his voice out. He rattles off emotions that should be normal given my condition.

"Like I said before. I'm fine. Just a little dizzy. It could be from whatever you just injected into me. You know like a side effect," I say dismissively hoping he'll drop it.

"No, that is a symptom of your heart. I have told you that a few times. I just injected a new drug because the others don't seem to have any effect on you or your health. We have scheduled a meeting for you-" he pauses and looks down at his clipboard. "-tonight. Your parents will be there along with yourself. Don't worry they already know about it. We're done here. Have a great rest of day Vivian." He smiles sympathetically.

Every time someone asks why I'm in the hospital or asks about my heart defect, I get that exact look. The one of pity. I don't want people to pity me or sympathize me. I'm fine and I can't stress that enough. Those are the exact words I've been telling myself since I was a little girl. I was born with an abnormal heart. It was too small and everyday I've had to live with it. It was a miracle that I survived this long since my body was rejecting most medications. Whatever has been accepted will only keep me alive temporarily or so they say.

"Thank you," I mutter before rolling down my sleeve. The prick hurts a little, but I've grown accustom to the pain of needles. I hop down from the bench and leave the room. I swing my leather bag over my shoulder and allow it to bump against my thigh every time I take a step. I walk down the all too familiar hallway. Person after person walks past me not even sparing a glance at me as I pass by. They're too devoured in their phones to even notice. An older lady with a young boy, not much older than five, clacks down the hall in her heels with her hand towing him along behind her. Although, the child seems quite content chatting to himself. However, I am disgusted with how she ignores him to stare at her phone. What could be more interesting than your child?

People these days.

I was so engrossed with glaring at the inattentive mom that I didn't watch where I was going and collided right into another person. I stumble backwards a couple steps and almost fell, but a large pair of hands wrapped around my waist to save me from my embarrassing fate.

"Thank you-whoa," I mumble as I look up to the guy who saved me from some pain. This guy is amazing. He has gorgeous chestnut brown hair that was combed back slightly at the top. It's the type of hair you want to run your fingers through repeatedly. He has mixed eye colors which are cross between blue and green. He has on scrubs, but even then he can make them work.

   I recognize him from around the hospital. He's a volunteer from what I gather. He does basic duties such as delivering food and checking on patients to tend to their wants and needs. I've never exchanged words with him because I only come here for checkups and such. The closest I've gotten to him was overhearing his conversations with other patients. He used to go to my high school, but since I've dropped out, I've never gotten the chance to talk to him.

Until now.

He smirks at me. I wonder if he knew of my condition if he would look at me differently. If that smirk would turn into a sympathetic smile. But I must say he is fine as hell.

"I get told that all the time," he says looking down at me. I'm 5'5 which I would consider average height, but he is at least half a foot taller than me.

My cheeks turn bright pink. Did I say that out loud?

"Yes you did. You also asked that out loud," he chuckles. I groan and resist the urge to face palm myself.

"I'm just gonna go now," I tell him awkwardly before walking away. That was so awkward and normally I'm not like that. I'm more calm and collected, but I totally blew it back there. Yikes.

I reach the end of the hall and press the button to hail the elevator. I reach into my back to get my sweater and wrap it around my body. I'm always cold.

"Have a good day Vivian," calls Gladys, the secretary in charge of the children's ward of the hospital. Every time I come here for treatment, which is often, she stops to talk to me and even occasionally brings me cookies.

I raise my hand into some sort of salute. "Bye Gladys. See you soon."

She smiles fondly at me. I smile back at her.

I step into the empty elevator and pop in my earbuds. After scrolling through songs I finally decide on one. I press play and let myself dissolve into the music.

"All I am is a man

I want the world in my hands

I hate the beach

But I stand

In California with my toes in the sand

Use the sleeves of my sweater

Let's have an adventure

Head in the clouds but my gravity's centered

Touch my neck and I'll touch yours

You in those little high-waisted shorts, oh"

I have listened to this song so many times because I guess it took away the pain of knowing what was going to happen to happen to me eventually. Death is inevitable. Music took away my pain long enough to let that feeling of happiness seep back into my life. The more times I listened to my favorite songs and as time progressed the relief was only temporary. I wonder if that's a side effect of dying.

The song is about halfway through once I reach the main floor. I pull my grey sweater tighter and shove my hands into my jean pockets. I exit the building and my body is instantly attacked by the cold. A shiver ripples through my body. A loud honk directs my attention to a red van to my left.

A caravan pulls up right beside me. The two people in the front, my parents, wear goofy grins on their faces. My dad is in the front behind the steering wheel. He is a taller man with deep chestnut hair and stubble all around his chin. His dark green eyes crinkle with the giant smile he has on his face. My mom is a gorgeous woman who I can easily say is also my role model and best friend since I am no longer close with my friends. She's the same height as me, about 5'5, with silky blonde hair and a pasty complexion. They give me eager waves and I can't help but to smile a little as I climb into the back seat.

My two younger sisters, Lydia and Ainsley, occupy the very back seats and wear the same goofy grins as my parents. Lydia just turned 13 years old and Ainsley is turning 15 in November. We each have two years difference between one another. My 17th birthday was in February. I hop into the car and buckle up my seat belt.

"You know I didn't need you all to pick me up right? We live like 5 minutes away."

"We know. We just thought we'd hop in the van and take a cruise around town. We have another doctor's meeting tonight, so we thought we'd take you out for dinner first. Your choice, " my mom says twisting her body to look at me.

"I'm not really hungry. You guys choose this time."

"You always do this. Come on just choose. I'm starving," Ainsley whines from the back. Her stomach rumbles to help her prove her point. Mom shoots her a look and she instantly shuts up.

"Um how about McDonald's. I want a small order of fries." My mom smiles triumphantly and we go down the road to get a meal that I barely even want to eat.

***

"Thank you for coming tonight Mr. and Mrs. Marshall. We have some concerns regarding your daughter," says a female doctor which is one of the many doctors at this table. We are now back at the hospital in one of the conference rooms on the higher levels. I slouch back in my seat with my arms folded across my chest. Once a month we come to a meeting with various doctors who always give the same news. None of the medications they give me work properly and they want to try something new.

"As you very well know by now that none of the drugs we have given your daughter seem to be working." They nod stiffly. Whenever we come to these things both of my parents break down into tears and the whole night becomes a mess. My mom sniffles to the right of me. See what I mean?

"We have given her every medication possible and it is risky to start to mix medications with other medications. Your body doesn't seem to react well and doesn't accept anything we are giving you. They seem to work temporarily before a new drug is needed."

"What was the point of bringing us here since we already know all this?" I ask genuinely confused. I wince at my bluntness.

The doctor smiles grimly at me. "That's where the bad news comes in. We've been documenting your health for months now. It steadily makes a downward slope. Judging by the data we have gathered," she pauses and looks at the many doctors nervously then back to us. She takes a deep breath. "We predict that Vivian only has a month to live before her heart gives out completely."

The room breaks into chaos. My mom breaks down to tears and her head drops into her hands. My dad starts to yell incoherent words at the doctors at the table who try to calm him down. My head starts to hurt and my mind goes fuzzy. I feel lightheaded with all this yelling. I feel my nose start to drip. I raise my finger to catch what is dripping from my nose.

Blood.

"Everyone stop talking," I yell immediately shushing the crowd. Blood continues to trickle down my face. My mom peaks through her fingers still crying and my dad stares open mouthed at me in the midst of yelling. All the doctors have their eyes upon me.

"There is nothing you can do about this. It's natural for people to die. My time is just sooner than others. It's not like we didn't see this coming. Thank you doctors for helping me to the best of your ability. I need to find a tissue. I'll be back soon to discuss this further," I state before leaving the room. As I walk further down the hall I hear more shouts from my angry father.

I lower my head to get the blood out and pinch the bridge of my nose. Tears threaten to stream down my face. I may have been calm in there when accepting my fate, but it still felt horrible to know that in one month I would be gone from this earth. There's still so much I wanted to do. On my way to the bathroom I accidentally bump into another person. What is it with me today? I look up to apologize and nearly groan when I take in his smug face.

Him again? Really? He is wearing the same scrubs as he was earlier and he looks a little tired, but once he looks at me his face brightens.

"Long time no see. Was our earlier run in not enough for you? My name is Mason Barnett, by the way, in case you want to stalk me in some other form." He extends his hand.

"Vivian Marshall," I reply. If I wasn't in such a bad mood I would have been embarrassed by his words. I take his warm hand into my cold one and shake it. I release his hand.

"Did you purposely bump into me again? Am I just 'too hot' for you to forget about? Since you're here I've got some pickup lines I've been wanting to try out and let me know if they work for future reference. It's kind of like a survey. You're my first participant." He grins.

"And I have some comebacks that I've been wanting to try. Bring it on," I say completely forgetting about my bloody nose. This should be fun. I cross my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow in a challenging manner.

He clears his throat and begins. "Do you have a band aid? I think I scraped my knee falling for you."

"No, but I have some salt," I retort without hesitation.

His smile widens and intrigue flashes across his face for a brief second. "I have a pen and you have a phone number. Think of the possibilities."

"I have a sandal and you have a face. Think of the casualties."

"If I could rearrange the alphabet I would put 'U' and 'I' together."

"Why bother when 'N' and 'O' already are?"

He lets out a small laugh. It is the most sexy thing I have ever heard, but I'm not telling him that. His ego is big enough already and I barely even know the guy.

"Feel my shirt it's boyfriend material." He rubs his shirt for extra emphasis.

I smirk and cock my head to the side playfully. "No thanks. It looks a little too clingy and hard to maintain."

His smile never falters as he immediately recovers and gives me another pickup line. "Do you believe in love at first sight? Or should I walk by again?"

"Go ahead. I need to practice hitting a moving target."

"I have one more. There's something wrong with my eyes. I can't take them off you."

"I'm having a problem with mine, too. I can't see you getting anywhere with me."

He doubles over with laughter. I can't help but to laugh along with him. My dark mood brightens a little. He clutches his stomach and pretends to wipe away a tear.

"That was good. Where did you learn all those comebacks?"

I shrug. "I watch a lot of TV."

He finally sobers up and sees my nose which I assume now has dried blood under it. "We should get that cleaned up." He takes my hand in his and leads me to the girl's bathroom. I make no movement to stop him. He's pretty fun to be around and seems pretty laid back, despite his cocky attitude.

He positions me in front of the mirror. He disappears into one of the stalls then reemerges with a some toilet paper. He rinses it under cold water and presses the cold tissue to my face wiping the blood off.

"There all better." He smiles. "Although I don't know if I'll ever recover from all those insults you threw at me earlier."

I playfully roll my eyes.

   His words sink in. Recovery. The tears I held back minutes ago resurface. I turn my head to the side and blink them away furiously. In a month none of this will matter. In a month, nothing will.

"Hey," he says softly. He leans to the side so his face is in front of mine. The tears are gone, but I still look sad. "What's wrong?"

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. My throat is so dry. "I don't want to talk about it," I finally choke out.

He nods. "That's totally okay. Can I ask why you're at the hospital after visiting hours and you're not in scrubs or a hospital gown?"

"Look..." I trail off because I forget his name.

"Mason," he reminds me. I nod once.

"Mason," I repeat. "I was here for a meeting with my doctors and I got bad results. I have congenital heart disease and due to the rarity of my blood type and the disease I only have a month to live. I should just go," I say harshly slipping down from the counter. The words tumble out of my mouth. 

"I'm so sorry. I have worked at this hospital as a volunteer for almost a year now and death never gets easier to watch." An awkward silence falls upon us. I keep my head down as I fidget with my hands, but I can feel his eyes bore into the top of my head.

  "I should go. My parents are probably worried about me," I say breaking the silence. I take one step before Mason directs my attention back to him.

"Do you have a bucket list?" He asks randomly.

"A bucket list?" I parrot while looking up at him.

"Yeah, you know a list of things you want to do before you die."

"I know what a bucket list is," I snap. I sigh, "I just-I don't know. I've never done anything before, so I don't know where I'd even start. I stay inside all day and the only real time I go out is to various  meetings and treatment. I haven't actually ever done anything exciting."

"That's the beauty of a bucket list. You do things you've never done before. Have an adventure, live life to the fullest and all that crap. It could be fun." He wiggles his eyebrows mischievously. I laugh a little. The sound is foreign to my ears. 

"Okay. I will write a list of things I want to do. Even if I don't do them it's still fun to dream about them." I nod. This could be fun now that I think about it.

"Great. You said you've never done much in your life. Don't let your disease consume you. Be your own individual person because you're two separate things. When those final moments come and your life flashes before your eyes like people say it does I want you to see all the fun things you've done. Not things you'd wish you'd done. Have no regrets. I can help you write the list and cross things off. I've got some money and a car," he suggests.

"Wait you're going to help me complete my bucket list?"

He shrugs. "If you'll let me tag along, sure. I promise I'm not as douchey as I seem. I'm a volunteer here. All I want to do is help people. And besides you're actually a pretty cool person to be around."

I smile. A real genuine smile.

"Tomorrow at 11am. Does that sound good?"

"Sounds amazing." He flashes his white teeth at me. We walk side by side out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"So is this like the beginning of the end?" I joke weakly, casting him a sideways glance.

He shakes his head. His brown hair flies around in the air, but he continues to look forward. "No, think of it as the beginning of the beginning."

***

A/N- As you can tell I've started a new book! I'm super excited to write this and I hope you all enjoy. Please vote & comment! It means a lot to me :)

~Mar