"Giles, Michelle - Waiting To Die" - читать интересную книгу автора (Giles Michelle)

Waiting To Die...
By
Michelle Giles

Jenna Murphy fidgeted in her seat, unable to concentrate on the magazine lying across her lap. The doctor's waiting room was empty. Silent. She waited, her heart beating unsteadily.

Just two weeks ago, she had been a young, healthy woman seeking an annual checkup...then one test, another, and another...the look in the doctors eyes...the waiting...

"The doctor will see you now."

Jenna took a deep breath and stood. She followed the nurse down a long hall to the corner office. Dr. Wright remained seated at his desk, studying some papers. He looked up. "Hello, Jenna. Please have a seat."

The nurse closed the door behind her. Jenna stared at the doctor. Silence again. The expression on his face revealed nothing.

"I've reviewed your X-rays and test results," the doctor said, then looked directly into her eyes. "Im sorry. It's worse than we feared. Jenna, you have three months to live."

***

Timothy Kerrington clutched the answer in his hand--a sleek, .45-caliber gun.

Cancer. The big C. Age twenty-one, and life was over. No more partying. No more girls. No more fun.

Even chemo wouldnt help. Nothing, nothing would do any good. Cancer dammit.

He pulled the trigger.

***

Polly Hawkins lay in her bed and stared at the TV, barely paying attention to the woman complaining about her cheating husband. "She thinks she's got problems," Polly muttered, then clicked the remote. Each channel revealed more people with daily routines. Teens dancing in a cola commercial; two lovers kissing on a soap opera; some movie star bragging about her latest flick. All people with busy, interesting lives.

And futures.

Polly reached for the glass on her nightstand, knocking aside an empty bag of potato chips. In one gulp, she finished off the last shot of vodka. She reached for the bottle at the bottom of the bed and held it above her lips. Empty. She dropped it onto the floor, then fell back into the pillows.

Her eyes met the ceiling, an all too familiar site. For the past thirty-seven days, she had studied every inch. She counted again. Seventy-nine green flowers along the wallpaper border, fourteen small cracks, two holes and one smashed bug.

Her gaze lowered to the calendar hanging just above the TV. Each red X, a reminder of another day gone. Only twenty-three days remaining...

Polly staggered out of bed and stumbled to the kitchen. Kicking aside two pizza boxes and an empty bag of chocolate-chip cookies, she reached into the cabinet and grabbed the last bottle of vodka. As she held it up, she started laughing. That was her life now, red Xs and vodka.

And Dr. Wrights support group.

She cracked open the vodka and drank down its comfort.

Jenna focused on Dr. Wright as he listened to Polly describing, in slurred words, someone she'd seen on television. The doctor's smile appeared automatic and did not extend to his eyes. How did he deal with losing patients?, Jenna wondered.

"Now Jenna," he said, startling her. "Tell us how you are coping."

Jenna rubbed her temples. The doctor said this would help. Talk about your feelings with others. Let it out...