Chapter 4The Final Prescription

The day I was diagnosed, I was alone in the hospital.

The doctor said gently: "Best notify family."

I shook my head: "None."

Really none.

Cut off contact for ten years. Blocked numbers, deleted social media.

Doctor advised hospitalization.

I refused.

Don't want to treat it.

Since I'm dying, I want to die beautifully.

Crowded hospital, others had someone to share joy and sorrow.

Me?

I sat in the hallway, covering my face, tears flowing through fingers.

A cleaning lady stopped in front of me, patting my shoulder: "Girl, what's wrong?"

"Auntie," I looked up, "I'm dying."

She was startled, then hugged me: "Nonsense! Treat it if sick!"

"It's true. Dying."

"No one cares about me."

I buried my face in her faded uniform, voice muffled.

"No one loves me. My dad, mom... only like my brother."

"Should I not have been born..."

"Silly child, what nonsense. Parents love daughters. Misunderstanding?"

She sighed, "Tell family. Blood is thicker than water. If you are really sick, won't they come? Won't they hurt for their own daughter?"

I shook my head, then nodded, mind a mess.

Maybe?

Maybe if I die, they will regret, will hurt?

I'm so cheap.

Decided never to contact, why miss home when dying?

I called my mom.

Rang many times before connecting.

Mom's voice, impatient from nap: "Hello? Who?"

"Mom..." My throat tight, "It's me."

Silence for seconds, voice spiked, sharp: "Scarlett?! You know to call?! You—"

"I'm sick." I interrupted, fearing she'd hang up.

"Cancer. Late stage. Doctor says... maybe three months."

Dead silence.

Then, I heard her gasp. Tone changed completely.

"Scarlett? Where are you? Which hospital? Child, why didn't you say earlier!"

Voice trembling, like crying.

"Don't be afraid, daughter, don't fear... Mom is here. Tonight... come home tonight, Mom cook your favorite braised fish, okay? Don't think about anything, come home."

"Why didn't you contact Mom for so many years, you don't know how worried Mom was..."

Holding the phone in the busy hospital lobby, I cried like an idiot.

Suddenly felt lucky.

The disease didn't seem so scary.

At least Mom finally willing to look at me.

Two days later, she appeared at my door with a big suitcase, dusty.

Hugged me immediately, tears on my neck: "My poor daughter... Mom is here, Mom will take care of you."

She really started "taking care" of me.

Up early late to sleep, cooking soups, forcing me to eat folk remedies.

Tucking me in at night.

In school, I hated talking.

Classmates always talked about family.

Parents took me to the park.

Mom made celery dumplings I hate, we fought.

Dad picks me up, give you a ride?

...

I envied, jealous, then hated my birth.

If back to school days, I could say, my mom tucks me in after lights out.

That night, I cried hugging the quilt.

Later, I saw the chat between Mom and Caleb.

Heart leaked a big hole, unpatchable.