That's life, you know?
When I looked back to the doctor and my sister, I realized they had held a conversation about my well-fare without me being involved. She was standing up, shaking his hand.
I quickly stood, but didn't shake the good doctor's hand, despite the fact that he held it out to me. I turned and walked out of the room, and started to the car.
I was halfway down the hall when I heard the door to the doctor's office shut.
“Falon, will you wait a minute?” she called out. I didn't stop walking, but I did slow down. She was my sister after all.
Ava came to my side, breathing deeply. She shot me a glare with her dark brown eyes. I smiled, and after a moment, she did too.
“You're not funny,” she told me, pulling the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. She was still smiling, even though I knew I was pushing her last nerve.
“I wasn't trying to be funny. I was going for rude,” I informed her.
“Well, you achieved it. Congratulations.”
“Thanks, it means a lot.”
“Falon,” Ava said more sternly. She stopped walking, and like a magnetic force, I did too. “Don't you care at all about this surgery? Aren't you the least bit worried?” she asked.
I went to roll my eyes, then decided against it. I looked to the wall, and then looked to the floor. I don’t know how I saw it, but a crayon was nestled against the wall. I knew it must have belonged to the girl from before and she had just looked over it.
“It's not a big deal, Ava. I don't even see any use in going through with it,” I told her.
I knew my honesty would get her. She stared at me with a dumbfounded expression. “What do you mean, 'not a big deal'? It's surgery, Falon. It is a big deal and it's a very important big deal,” she told me.
“It's my body. It's not like the surgery will help any. You know that,” I told her, and when her expression turned soft, I realized I didn't want to open that can of worms.
“I just worry about you. I don't want you to feel so low about yourself,” she replied.
“Don't worry, I feel peachy,” I told her, cracking a grin.
She stared at me for a moment, then lost the battle and smiled softly. “Yeah, you always do. Peachy is your middle name, right?” she replied, having known my answers so well.
I pinched her cheek. “Exactly.”
Ava laughed, shaking her head. “You're weird,” she commented, and then rolled her eyes. “I've got to go pay out, and then I'll head to the car,” she said.
I nodded. “I'll be waiting,” I told her.
She kissed my cheek, which meant I was in her good graces once more, and then left me standing in the middle of that long corridor alone.
Except for the crayon. It was still there.
I walked over to it, and knelt down. It was wedged between the wall and a hospital cart, but came out easily when I pulled it. I knew the girl had probably missed it because from where she had been, she hadn't seen it.
White. Not a very useful crayon, I think. You really couldn't use it for much of anything, and if you did, you couldn't tell. It was white. Most paper was already white.
I tucked it into my pocket. I couldn't give you an exact reason why. Just felt I needed to, and that was as good a reason as any.
♥
Sitting in the confines of my bedroom, I finally had time to think. I love my sister, I really do, but she doesn't get the idea of a young man needing space.
Ava would prefer to know what I was doing at every moment of the day. If I was watching porn, the least I could do is let her know, or smoking a joint. Just as long as she knew.
I'm sure she only has my best intentions in mind (because I would never smoke a joint. Call it an omen, but I'd prefer to not light fires near my face. Just saying) but sometimes, she could get motherly, and that was when I got childish, and we had our disputes. It wasn't often, but it did happen.
For the most part, I loved being with my sister. She was one of the most amazing women I knew.
She supported herself. No husband, no trust fund, just her, keeping herself and me okay. Medical expenses could get expensive.
She had kept me safe, and as healthy as I could possibly be. She was paying hospital bills to the best of her ability. But they would just keep piling up, because my problems would just keep piling up.
Staring at myself in the mirror, I knew why Ava wanted me to have another skin graft done. The fateful night that I was used as the barbecue, the main damage had been to my torso and above. Most of the lower half of my body had escaped the flames for the most part, or else, had been kept more protected by the pants I had been wearing.
My head had suffered terribly. I had covered my face against the earth, but the pain had been terrible. I had felt every agonizing second of it, right down the the flames being extinguished and the ambulance hooking me to a gurney.
The smell had been horrible. It's a smell I'll never get from my mind. It's one of the many reasons I couldn't join the Army. Burning flesh is an acquired smell.
I'd spent most of my life after the incident in hospitals, or burn centers. Skin grafts had helped change my Freddy Krueger pits to smoother skin, but I
