The next day started off as a beautiful day and then turned gloomy, literally too. The sun was shining when I rolled out of bed at eight, and then less than two hours later, the sky was clouded. My Aunt informed me of a certain meeting they expected her to attend just as she was leaving for it. A friend picked her up and they wouldn’t be home for many hours, at least ten. I smiled and laughed them off. They left without a second to care about me in the world.
Once I had done all chores and having no plan, I sat down on the couch and read some Agatha Christie undisturbed. Someone knocked on the door and I went to open it. It was Alison. My brain went into overdrive. To call Lucas or not to call him? What would any other logical person do in this situation? Open the damned door and act unfrazzled. So that’s what I did.
“Oh, hi Alison,” I said, sounding cheery. The exact opposite of what I was feeling.
“Hey, Angie. How’s your day been so far?” She inquired. “Can I come in?”
“Sure. I haven’t seen you in a while. It’s so good seeing you now.” I said. “My aunt isn’t home, you missed her.”
“Oh, that’s fine.” She waved her hand in a dismissive manner. “I came to see you.”
I got us some water glasses and then sat down with her. I didn’t forget to switch on my voice recorder while she wasn’t looking. If no one else could see her, then they could hear her.
We talked about the recent advancements in the case and had some juice as we talked. We talked about how our days had been and what we expected to do that day. I told her how my day was pretty much unplanned and I was open to any ideas. She had no ideas, as she was going to spend her day at her house, too.
I needed to find out what her last name is, or where she lives. That could help me know more about her, enough to stalk her and do some research. But I hadn’t been that lucky before, I wouldn’t be now.
“So, how’s your health been?” I asked her. I thought that could lead us to a conversation about doctors, then I could find out more that way: indirectly.
She sputtered and gaped at me. I had caught her off guard and for a few short moments, something like panic swept over her face. She was quick to cover it up with a smile. I had noticed how she took a sharp intake of breath, how her eyes had widened and her lips twitched. I knew that she’d lied about her ‘health problems’.
“Remission. It’s all better now.” She blurted after the initial shock had worn off. “I don’t have to see any more doctors now.”
“Did you see someone here in Lesbrook or…?”
“No. The doctor’s here could never! I saw many doctors away from here.” She smiled. “Well, I suppose they won’t be missing me too.”
I didn’t know how to ask her which doctors she saw because that would be creepy and uncalled for. So I didn’t ask. My hope that she would mention it unprovoked dwindled by the minute as she talked about her experience with the disease. But all the things she recounted made no sense. I don’t think she’d done enough research on how cancer works because she didn’t describe it in an accurate way. My Grandparents from my dad’s side died of cancer. I’d seen them wither away, but I don’t think she knew how cancer affected someone. Especially not at the level of severity she said she was at.
“I had chronic lymphocytic leukaemia.” She said. “It’s incurable, and it is one of the most difficult cancers to cure.” That she’d contradicted herself in the same sentence failed to register in her mind. She didn’t correct herself, which led me to think she wasn’t as intelligent as she thought she was… whoever she was.
I knew she was lying. While she was telling the partial truth, she was telling fabricated facts. CLL is one cancer with a very high survival rate. About 83% of people with it are alive five years after their diagnosis. I flinched at her next statement.
“I’m one of the lucky people to have been healed. My doctors told me that with my organs shutting down the way they were; I’d be dead in less than three months after my diagnosis.” I internally groaned. I told myself that I didn’t know what her symptoms had been, and cancer affects people in different ways.
“Oh? What were your symptoms?” I asked.
“I had the worst migraines, and I…” She looked down at my phone for a second before her eyes drifted up to me. “Is it ringing?”
“What do you mean?” Panic rose in my throat. I strove to keep my breathing even. I looked at my phone. I was trying to stay unaffected and unbothered. I could feel the air leave my lungs faster than it was supposed to.
“It’s blinking.”
I gave an inaudible sigh of relief. “It’s a message. It does that when I have unread emails or texts.”
“Oh.” She gave a small nod. “I need to go do something real quick. We’ll talk later?”
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