Chapter 2 #2
She’d also noticed that he was struggling and began stopping by with casseroles or other easy-to-reheat foods. Most times, she’d end up staying for dinner and then helping to tidy up. Slowly but surely, she’d swept Dad off his feet, which wasn’t exactly hard to do.
Theresa was young and beautiful, and she’d made life easier for him. They’d gotten married, she helped raise me, and eventually, they had a couple of kids of their own—Josey and Jacoby. We were like most typical families who did everyday kinds of things, and I was happy.
But as I grew older, I became more and more curious about my mother.
My grandmother had told me stories about her, and my dad would share one from time to time, but neither of them had ever mentioned how she’d died. They’d simply said there were complications and never anything more.
But then I’d started my period, and my father took me for a checkup.
During the appointment, he casually mentioned to the doctor that my mother had died from vascular complications with her heart.
He went on to tell her that he was concerned that I might have the same issue, especially since I’d started having migraines.
The doctor told Dad that the likelihood was very slim but sent me for some blood work and a few scans.
That’s when the doctor found it—a small aneurysm in the left lobe of my brain.
My father was reassured that it was minor, and more than likely, I’d never have an issue with it. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be until I was in my late forties or fifties. After that, my father said nothing further about it.
He’d thought I wasn’t concerned over the doctor’s diagnosis and that I’d let it go.
I hadn’t.
I couldn’t help but think the worst. I’d been positively terrified and just knew I was going to die.
I’d gone to my school library and started reading up on everything I could find on brain aneurysms: the causes, the symptoms, and the effects of a ruptured aneurysm. Needless to say, what I uncovered was a little overwhelming, especially for a thirteen-year-old.
I’d voiced my concerns to my friends, Theresa, my grandmother, and even my favorite teachers. They’d all assured me that I was worrying for no reason and that I was going to live a long, healthy life.
I had wanted to believe them, I really did, and decided to let it go. I convinced myself that my friends and family were right, but when the symptoms from my research started to creep in, I knew they had all been wrong.
So, I went to a neurologist, and he sent me for a scan.
I went like he’d ordered, then watched the radiologist as she studied the screen. The second I saw her face twist into a grimace, I knew it was bad. I’d barely made it home before my neurologist called to request a follow-up appointment.
I could’ve made the appointment and found out if I’d been right about my suspicions, but I didn’t.
Not because I was scared of what he might’ve told me—I already knew it wasn’t good—I wasn’t ready to give up my last sliver of control.
I would find out the results when I was ready and then decide what to do about it.
I would be the one with that power—not my aneurysm—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t terrified.
I didn’t want to end up like my mother—a life lost before truly living.
For a short time, I was crippled with dread, causing me to become depressed and shut down.
I’d stopped doing the things I normally did and locked myself away in my room, avoiding my friends and family—but thankfully, that phase didn’t last long.
I didn’t want to spend what was left of my life paralyzed in fear.
I wanted to see things. Do things.
I wanted to experience all life had to offer—I wanted to feel alive.
So, I started a bucket list of everything I planned to do before something happened to me. I started simple: trying new makeup, changing my hair color, or going to a concert in the park. But as time went on, my list grew and included more adventurous things like ski diving and base jumping.
Sadly, the base-jumping experience hadn’t turned out as well as I’d hoped.
I had no idea how much time had passed when I turned to Haleigh and whispered, “I truly am sorry about all this.”
“I know, but don’t beat yourself up over it. I could’ve told you no.” She looked over at me and smiled. “And as much as I hate to admit it, you were kind of right. Tonight was pretty awesome.”
“Yeah, it really was.”
“How mad do you think our folks are gonna be?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure my dad’s gonna kill me. Mom, too.” I let out a deep breath. “He pretty much lost it the night we were caught racing with the frat guys.”
“Yeah, and the cops just gave us both a warning that night.” She leaned her head back against the concrete wall and groaned. “We are so screwed.”
“Definitely.”
I was imagining my father’s long lecture after calling him to come bail us out when an officer appeared and announced, “Raelyn Thomas and Haleigh Morris.”
“Yeah, that’s us.”
“Time to go.”
“What?”
The guard unlocked the cell door and eased it open. “Your bail has been paid.”
“But how? No one knows we’re here.”
“Well, apparently somebody does.” Raising a brow, he snapped, “You two coming, or do you want to spend a few more hours in here?”
“We’re coming! We’re coming!” I answered while we rushed towards the door.
As we stepped into the hall, Haleigh turned to me and asked, “You think it was one of the guys we were jumping with tonight?”
“I have no idea.” I shrugged. “But I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”