I beg
to protest.

"GOLD four is
'end-stage.'"
Kjrsten says.
You are still in
GOLD three.
Yes, someday,
you will die.
Yes, it could be
earlier than
you'd like.
But as of
right now,
there is hope.
I mean,
there will still be
hope even if-"

"When."

"When your
Emphysema
is terminal.
I just meant that-"

"Yeah, I know."
It isn't really
like me
to interrupt.
But it's also
not really like me
to carry around
a clunky, loud
machine.
Why not turn
my entire life
upside down?
"This isn't some
cheesy cancer girl
movie,"
I tell her.
"There's no cure
for Emphysema.
Eventually
I will be in
GOLD four."

Please let
this speech
be over soon.

"But you're not
right now.
You're labeling yourself
terminal
too early.
At the moment,
you are just
chronically ill.
Not that
that's a 'just.'
It's no small thing."

I'm not bothered by
her
word choice.

"So let's
forget about
the whole
dying thing
and cross
that bridge
when we
come to it.
I'm not
an expert on
Emphysema
and I won't
pretend to be.
But you could
still have
many years left
for all
you know.
The only reason
you are in
GOLD Three
is because of
your number of
hospital visits,
not because
you are on
the very brink of
dying."

"You've done
your research,"
I comment.

"I work in
a hospital.
It's not too hard
to find
answers."
She says
and I laugh.

"All you've wanted
since I met you
is to be
'normal.'"
She makes
extra dramatic
finger quotations.
"So listen to me
for once
and start focusing on
the life that
you have while
you still
have it.

"You know
what else I haven't
heard about
in weeks?"

"Huh?"
I grunt.
I don't actually
care that much
what
the answer is.
This conversation
is making me
grumpy.

"Student Council.
College applications.
You know
those are due
this month, right?
Where are
you going?
Med school?
Community college
to get the
Gen Eds
out of
the way?
As much as
we love you,
we can't keep you
here at Bayview
forever."

Try me.

"Let's talk about
your life.
Not your
death."
Kjrsten concludes.

Finally!

Honestly,
aside from
Cadence's stressing,
I haven't thought
about
college in a
long time.

"I've been too busy
getting worse
to think about that,"
I say.

"That's over now.
You kept
everything a secret
until your body
couldn't take it
and now
everyone knows
where you're at,
which isn't
a bad thing
because it means
we can help you
not get
worse.

You don't have to fight
to breathe anymore."
A pause.
"As much."
She amends
and I
laugh.
"You don't have to
willpower through
so much pain
anymore.
You held onto
all that suffering
in silence,
and now
you can just
be you
because
you have time
for Student Council
and friends
and whatever
on earth
you want."

"Let.
Go.
Emma."

She motions
dusting off
each arm and
letting go of
something with
both hands,
eying me
impatiently
until I
mimic her.

"I don't want
to talk
right now
about what I want
to do with
everything
in my life.
I need to
think
first."

"Totally fair,"
She nods.
"Then let's discuss
what you already
have."

A memory of this
conversation that I've
already had
with Mom
sneaks in,
followed by
another.

"Wait, first,
my mom told me
someday I'd find
happiness."
I interrupt her
beautiful therapy moment.
I don't share
the sentiment
over
the moment,
but that's what
she calls
"breakthroughs."
"How do I
do that?"

Kjrsten smiles,
almost smug
like she knows
something
I don't.
"You already
have it."

"I most certainly
don't feel like
rainbows and
unicorn farts."

She chortles.
"Life isn't about
enjoying every
part, Emma.
It's about
finding happiness in
the things
you have
to be
grateful for."

So I go to class
late
as Kjrsten and I
sit like it's
Thanksgiving;
bouncing
gratitude off of
each other.

And it makes me wish
Grandma Jeff
had made us all
share what
we're
grateful for.

Not that I would
ever admit that
out loud.