It's All About You ⌘ Joe Sugg ✓

Chapter 75

I don't know how I came to be like this - standing impatiently in front of the two people who brought me into this world, their eyes cloudy with an indistinct desperation, their tounges hovering in their mouths as if they don't know what to say. We are standing next to the plastic benches that are scattered all throughout the ward, and people weave around us as they walk to some destination.

I know I should forgive my parents. But I need some kind of explanation before I can be put to ease, before I can forgive them for keeping something so monumental from me.

"So...?" I say, my impatience growing at the heavy silence between us. I watch without feeling as my mother inhales deeply, shutting her eyes against the stark lighting that shines down on us. The white glare makes everyone look pale, exhausted and ten years older.

"Darling. You have to understand... We did what was best for you. That was all we ever wanted. We couldn't tell you about Nathan before you left for your big overseas trip - we didn't want to stop you in your path, we wanted you to succeed and follow your dreams." My mother says all of this quietly, her eyes boring into me from across the gap between us. I blink multiple times as her words register. I feel her slightly clammy hand make contact with my own, but I pull it away before she can get a firm grip.

"Screw my dreams. He is my best friend! He was my first boyfriend! Do you not think I would've appreciated knowing that he was approaching his end before I left the goddamn country!" I am firing out the words before I can stop them, and I can tell that each one inflicts more pain on my mother. She almost looks like a child as she shrinks back into my father, a shiny tear rolling down her cheek. My father says nothing in response to my words, he simply keeps his arm around my mother and his grey eyes locked to the linoleum floor which is far too shiny to be natural.

"I know... I know darling, and I... We're so sorry. But... Just look at everything you have done in England. You've met Joe..." My mother says.

I am about to respond to her, however at the mention of Joe the words are frozen on my tongue. It suddenly strikes me that if I had never left for England that day, I would never have met the love of my life. The thought is earth-shattering, and suddenly I am unable to comprehend what my mother is saying. Nathan or Joe. That's what it comes down to.

My mother notices my moment of consideration and takes my silence as an opportunity to say more. "Sweetheart, aren't you glad that you went to England when you did? Aren't you glad that you weren't told about Nathan's illness earlier? It would've only prolonged your suffering."

It feels as if the floor is suddenly shifting beneath me, causing everything to blurr together in one big mess off white and grey. I open my mouth in order to inhale more air, and I lift my hands up to cover my eyes, or to stop another army of tears from escaping. I sit down on the hard plastic bench - my mother sits next to me on my right, while my father sits on my left. I don't even bother standing up or shifting away from them, I simply lean forward with my hands pressed hard against my eyes. I feel my mother run her fingers along the ridges of my spine, her touch gentle as if she is trying not to scare me.

I don't speak anymore - I simply stay locked in that position, my vision completely empty but my mind crowded with far too many thoughts. My mother whispers sympathy into my ear while my father plays with my hair just like he used to do when I was young. I feel young now, with my parents comforting me as I try to stop the overwhelming pain from consuming me.

"Aren't you glad you have this time? I know it's not as much as you could've had, but perhaps it's better this way. You don't have to see him in pain for much longer." My father finally speaks, and his deep voice reverberates from his chest. I always loved it when my dad spoke, because it was a rare occasion and he often said the most wise things. But now his words only cut me deeper, making my eyes sting even as I press my hands against them.