I noticed something new as I looked in the mirror. Little red… tears. They were on the side of my stomach. They were also under my tits, flaring out like the sun. Mom warned me about this. I figured it would never come, but here they were. Stretchmarks. Were these reversible?

Things just kept piling on in life. Mom was finally starting to feel the treatment. I was so sick of people titty flipping me in the hallway at school. My favorite place became the shower. I’d sit in there for an hour sometimes. Mostly ’til the water went cold. After sticking some shampoo in my hair, the water pressure was sputtering. Tsssssss. There was a fast break and a clench in the showerhead. The water stopped. I heard metal clanking on the pipes in the walls. The hose was shut off.

I grabbed my towel and flew downstairs, out the front door and ninja-ed around the back. Some guy from the city company was here. I knew from his ridiculous shirt color.

The guy started to walk away. I held my towel tight around my legs.

“Yo, what the hell, can I help you?” I demanded.

“Sorry, but there’s a balance past-due. So what we did was shut off your—”

“Oh fuuuck. Come on, dude. I was in the middle of a shower.”

“I see that, but we got plenty of other things to do around here. Okay, this ain—”

“Dude, look at my hair. I don’t have any clothes on.”

It wasn’t until this second that Greg realized I was naked. I knew his name was Greg because he had a big badge saying it on his shirt.

“Oh Shnoot. Haha, look atchu. Holy shnoot. Now That’s funny.”

“Hey man, look. I… well I think… I… guess this is about the bills. Look man, my mom has cancer.” I looked at him blankly, waiting for the ‘oh I’m so sorry’ Catholic guilt all my friends gave me. But Greg didn’t have that same jolt. That instant shock. It may have taken him a second to get it. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.

“Oh shnoot. Aw hey man. That’s. Ah, shnoot … You’re not messin’ with me are you? Ah… okay. Man I feel pretty awkward right now.” He was saying this all the way back to the drain with his wrench to turn it back on. I hopped the blue-green bush in the yard (naked) and ran back up into the shower. I nearly jumped under the brown run out water.

Under the clear water though, I realized I just got an adult to do what I told him to. Like a grown up. Man, that guy’s an idiot. Greg. I hope I never see him again. Gotta figure out this money thing. Come on, Mom. Don’t do this to me.

I decided to ration the water and kept the shower to 20 minutes. With the water off, I heard a knock at the bathroom door. It’d been going for a while.

“Hey… um, hey man your mom is, well… She just made me call an ambulance.”

My bowels sank. I stumbled out, not slipping on the bare linoleum. I grabbed a towel as Greg appeared in the doorway.

“Hey yea, it’s me again, sorry, but umm an ambulance-It’s Greg- an ambulance is like on its way. Your mom is screaming pretty bad.”

The screams came from downstairs. She was in serious pain. I again flew down the stairs and saw her on the ground. She was flailing inwards, from her core. And wailing. Her mouth agape, and her eyes clenched so tight she probably couldn’t see any light. She had sweaty red bumps forming on her skin. I came down to hug her, bring her up, but I didn’t quite get there. I didn’t want to cause more pain.

“Mom, Mom Mom Mom, what’s wrong? Do you want to come up?”

In between long screams, she told me what was up. “AhhhhHAHHHHH I’m bleeding up. It feels like I’m bleeding and tearing inside.” She grabbed my hand like a wrench. It hurt. I was whole-body speechless.

“Yea, dude, she told me not to touch her,” said Greg, who was now chewing on something (why the FUCK are you eating right now) and standing a distance away.

“Yea, don’t touch her, dude.”

I wanted to kill him then and there. Don’t you fucking ever tell me not to move/touch my mother.

“Ahh, give me a pillow.”

I turned to Mom, stunned, still fixated on Greg. “Dude…” I said.

“Give me a pillow.” Mom asked again.

I scouted for the pillow. They were always everywhere, too many pillows, but now, at THIS moment, not a sack to be found. I was still trying to say dude you tell me not to touch my mom, I’ll fuck you up, but, “you tell… my… her… I’ll touch… fuckin,” came out instead.

“Give me a GOD DAMN pillow,” Mom roared.

“FINE” I yelled, then ran around the room, and behind the couch. I saw a pillow back there and went to reach for it.

“Yo, dude, there’s the pillow behind—”

“YEA I know, Shut UP!” I ripped, and ran over to Mom and pillowed her head up. Trails of saliva flowed from her open mouth.

“Aw. It hurts. Uggggghhh. It’s really bad. You called the police, or the fire truck, or, whatever. You’re gonna need to. Ambulance. Get me a pill. It’s in the cabinet with the cereal.”

“Got it. Cereal cabinet.” I rushed over, pushing Greg, and went to the cabinet.

“It’s called Dilaudid.”

“Whoa! Heavy stuff,” said Greg, still chewing something, “that’s like top shelf heroin.”

“Dude! I swear to…” Why was he was so chill and STILL IN THE HOUSE?

So I fed Mom her Dilaudid. I broke the tiny round tablet in two, but then decided she would need the full amount. I got a glass of water, running past the useless Greg, who was chuckling slyly. Within a few seconds she was dozing, very wide in the pupils. She gently sustained and stopped screaming. As she did, the ambulance began to Doppler closer to the house. I ran outside, realizing yet again that I was still in a towel, yet again outside. Geez. I raced to get some clothes on. Turning, I trampled right on a pebble, between the concrete sidewalk and my heel. Fire surged into my bone, and up my butt. I limped on the ball of my foot past Mom, now crying.

I threw on my swim team shirt (the one Mom designed) and dirty pants. Not thinking to throw on socks, I snuck on my Adidas. My feet were sweating up the insides. The insoles would be pasted to the bottom of my feet.

Ambulance lights flashed in my room. I cruised down the stairs, now looking like a clothed human-thing, and went to meet the paramedics. Greg was walking through the house. His face was dull and blank, like an unburned CD-ROM.

“Greg, go check on my mom, or get the fuck out OF HERE!” I yelled. This wasn’t what Greg signed up for.

“Hey, man, you can’t just talk to me like that. Alright, I—”

“Hey! Fucko!” I yelled, walking out to the paramedics. “I’m…” I stood at the base of the sidewalk, between the ambulance and Mom. I felt a push and pull. A recoiling, and tension, and torque. It was too much. I grabbed two great tufts of my hair, bent over and howled. Loudly, making the ambulance siren sound like a party favor.

The paramedics stood frozen for a moment. They looked at me like I had a gun or something. The taller paramedic motioned for his partner to go into the house. I’m sure he found Greg inside, and probably thought he was my dad. Gross.

The taller one came over, staying a distance from me.

“Hey, sir, we are responding to an emergency at this address. There was a report of a woman inside screaming in pain. Are you in need of assistance?”

I could see everything happening. I was taking in so much, it was hard to breathe. Tomorrow was my 8th grade graduation, and instead of enjoying the party, maybe even having a party, I was… here.

The paramedic didn’t sound as Hispanic as he looked. I eyed him in a daze, then swallowed, and spoke. “Mom is inside. She must have fallen, but she’s got pain.”

The medic looked happy that I was talking. Over the radio strapped to his shoulder came some other guy’s scratchy radio voice, “Hey Ev, bring the stretcher. Patient seems sedated, but stable. Clutching her abdomen.”

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“We’re gonna need to get her into the ambulance. Are you okay? You don’t look great, but we need to act. Are you okay?”

I opened my mouth to continue with a question, but instead nodded. I just sat. On the grass and took my hands from my scalp. An unnatural amount of loose hair was clenched in my fists. As the tall paramedic, Ev, ran in, I turned and said, “I gave her Dilaudid. She only took one, but….” but Ev was already gone.

Mom had changed so much since the chemo. I didn’t like her anymore. I mean I loved her and all, and I wanted her to just, go back to the way she was. Ever since the cancer, it was all about her. We were on her schedule. We did what she wanted to do. She was constantly making these, “While I’m still here…” kind of excuses to go to her favorite restaurant (Olive Garden) and watch her favorite shows. The more I lived with this recent version of her, the less I got to live my life. If it wasn’t for my computer… Gosh, I don’t even know.