Chapter 1 (Earth)

Chapter 1 (Earth)

The nightgown clad chest rose and fell rhythmically like a weak metronome, ribs were not well hidden by the thin cloth. Emma rested her head over the frail heart listening for a reassuring beat while watching the dark eye lashes and willing them to flutter. How could someone sleep so long if they were not Rip Van Winkle. She remembered hearing that fairytale when she was young and now was living or at least watching it. She picked up the delicate fingers whose nails she had previously painted a pale pink and wove her fingers through each of them alternating. Such pretty hands even if they had not been used for some time. She had tenderly but firmly done range of motion on them daily to prevent contortions. One day she hoped to see them do all the functions they had in the past, but for another day her mother lay still and unmoving except for the regular breaths that caused her flat breasts to rise. 

Today was Emma’s 16th birthday…sweet 16…what an oxymoron. There was really nothing sweet about her past 16 years and she was not sure she could face another. She needed her mother to wake up and hold her or to at least give her the advice she so desperately needed, but that birthday present did not look like it was arriving today. “WAKE UP, PLEASE” she screamed in her head hoping her mother could communicate telepathically. 

“I need to tell you something,” she whispered softly. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I am not sure anything I do makes a difference. I have tried, tried so hard.” She stopped to catch a salty tear with her tongue as they rained down her cheeks. “I promise I will find someone or somewhere to take care of Arty before I go, but it looks like I will be finished one year from today. Happy birthday to me. I love you mom, but I cannot fix anything and I am so tired.” 

She placed the cool, still hand on her cheek, then gave it a quick kiss before draping it softly beside her mother’s emaciated body. 

It gave some relief to say it out loud. She had a deadline. Ironic use of the word. In 365 days or 525,600 minutes she would disappear or be no more. Giving herself that much more time seemed to make it justified. If in one year she could not see any difference she made in the world, she would leave it.