?â
âYou just found out you have leukemia, and you lied to your parents about being sick. I think theyâre on edge enough as it is without you lying to them so you can skip school.â
In light of recent developments, I could see his point. âI hadnât thought of that.â And really I hadnât. Technically, I hadnât lied. I had leukemia, therefore I was eternally unwell. I only took advantage of my circumstances, but still, a small bit of guilt twisted in my stomach.
Iâd stayed home for two reasons. One, to snoop around my momâs office, which yielded no evidence of her cheating. And two, I needed time to gather my thoughts. Since being diagnosed, no one had left me alone, and I just wanted one day. Dad had been home twice to grab âsome stuffâ heâd forgotten. I knew he was here to check on me, and him not saying so irked me.
âI needed the house to myself.â
I scooted my chair closer to Harvey. Animosity seeped through his roll-with-the-punches exterior. Turning into him, I pressed my full body against his side and placed a hand on his thigh. His resolve crumbled beneath my touch and his whole body tensed. I loved the way this control over him made me feel. The feeling scared me, but not enough to do anything about it, because now all I felt was assurance and purpose.
âI need your help.â I told him with my hand still on his thigh.
He watched my hand. âWith what?â
âIâm sick. You know that. And because of that, there are some things I need to do, and I need to know that youâll be there to help me when the time comes.â
âWhat do you mean, things ?â
I shrugged.
âWhat do you mean, like, a bucket list?â
âWell, I guess you could call it that, but I think Just Dying To-Do List has a better ring to it.â
âNo,â said Harvey, his voice solid. âThose are for old retired people.â He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, shaking his head; my hand fell away. After a moment, he threw his arms up and said, âGod, what the hell, Al? This is so screwed up. You donât talk to me for a year and nowâno, this is ridiculous.â
He didnât get it yet. He didnât get that the blood inside of my body was revolting against me. He hadnât been there for the cold sweats in the middle of the night. He wouldnât have to go through chemo so that he could be infused with the very thing that was killing him. I had to make him understand this, for me. âHarvey, what about âI have leukemiaâ donât you get? I mean, maybe we should all have a list. You could get hit by a car tomorrow and die a virgin.â
âHow would you know if Iâm aâ?â
âHarvey.â
He looked the other way, out the window above the sink.
âHarvey, if I . . . if I die and you donât help me with this, you will always regret it. Doing these things with you, thatâs part of my list in a way.â I bit down on my lip. âMaybe there are some things that you want to do with me that are on your list, ya know?â
He sat in silence, watching his fingers, woven together in his lap. âWhatâs on the list?â he asked, his voice low and scratchy.
âI canât tell you.â
He laughed to himself in a sad way and rubbed his eyes. âYou want me to help you with a list of things you wonât disclose to me.â He leaned forward and bit the skin around his thumb. âClassic.â
âI would tell you on a need-to-know basis.â
Writing down a list and showing it to Harvey made this thing more tangible and more of a commitment.
âThis isnât going to be, like, riding a horse bareback down the beach type of shit, is it?â
I smiled and leaned in to him, only a few breaths between us. âNo,â I said. âNo, itâs not.â Cancer would take away plenty. My hair, my