11/23/2007 10:44 PM

11/23/2007 10:44 PM

Do you know why people are nice to other people? I am not sure either. Journal, I have a question. Do you know what to do when you talk oh a terminally ill boy? Yeah i am not sure what to do neither. The sad thing is you know he’s going to die soon, and yet it’s a huge surprise when it does happen. Let me ask you something journal… would you spend your thanksgiving in a hospital? Me neither. I wouldn’t care if I had cancer I would rather spend my thanksgiving with the people I love. And that’s all I would want to do. Do you know the most heartbreaking sight in the whole wide world is? Seeing a sick kid. A kid with cancer who needs companionship but no one is giving it to him. That would tear your heart out even though you didn’t even mean for it to do so in the first place. That’s what I had to experience this thanksgiving break. A nightmare. I will start at the beginning.

After I promenade off the buss at 3:22 PM on the last Friday of my vacation coming from the library, I saw that Tommy, my ebony skinned deaf guardian waiting for me outside of our home. He didn’t look all to happy to see me, which made me feel so bad. I didn’t want to look at him or even communicate with him at the current time. When I reached him, he took my weighty backpack off my shoulders and just started walking in the house without even greeting me. I preamble after him my face streaked with concern. Tommy went into the kitchen and placed my backpack on a chair. And then after that he sat down and stared stalwartly ahead. It looked like he was staring at me, but I deduced he wasn’t doing such a thing. I saw a pad and pen beside me so I grabbed it and began to write. About half way through the sentence Tommy places his warm huge hand on my chilld one, and gently takes the pen out of my clutches.

“no ask.” He writes.

“how did you know that was what my actions implied?” I wrote back.

“face show sign huge.”

“oh great! so my face is a huge sign that displays my thought process?”

“book easy.”

“I am not easy to read like a book! And what have I told you?”

“that not complete think?”

“yes, and it’s thought not think.”

“I not care.” This note confused me because Tommy always wants me to help him on his writing skills. I do a leason each night and he loves it. At least, he did anyway.

“look. What's the matter?”

“mom bed hospital. Ache head.”

“you mean your mother is in the hospital?”

“yes. Sick bad.”

“shall we go see her? She’s In dire need of your company I am sure, and she needs to know you are still there for her.”

“not remember.”

“I know she doesn’t, but so what? At least she’s happy, and she looks forward to seeing you.”

“you dad same.”

“how are we the same?”

“you go see her and she forget people came in room I hate that place.”

“oh.” That’s all I could say. I didn’t want to go neither, but what choice did I have. Tommy wouldn’t let me stay at home all by myself. Not in a million years, but still I didn’t want to go see a dying black woman who is having memory issues. I would rather read about it then experience it

“we leave after quick food.” He writes to me. I have to fight every inch of nerve to not tell him “oh no sir. That is not how you write it, you write it like this.” But in the end I restrained myself. I ate a quick bite of an apple, and then I gathered up 4 books and we went on our way.

I have absolutely no idea why I brought 4 books. I guess it’s just habit, plus 2 of then I were almost finished with reading anyway. so I didn’t care. Tommy did. He angrily signed to me all the way there “you got to respect my mom. No read.” I didn’t pay no heed to his rants. I acted like I had no idea what he was saying, so he just sighed and gave up. The hospital was a normal stereotype portray of a hospital that you see on television. Nurses of all race, gender, and height trampled up and down the hallways pushing carts and saying medical things that confused me. I clutched my books to my chest as though I thought that some weird man would just pop out of some door and steal them away from me and then I would never read dorphy parker again. The various twists and turns that we had taken left me clueless as to where we were going or where I had come. Everything looked the same, and my cane tapping in front of me made so much racket I felt as though the walls were covering their ears in utter terror. We turned a final corner and marched to an open door. I could hear a female African American laughing inside, and also another male African American telling the female to “shhhh babe.” To my shock we walked in. the male African American who’s skin was the color of night stood up, and looked at us as if we were people who had just risen from the dead.

“hi Tommy! Who is this white boy with you?” that made me angry! I have never been so insulted like that before!

“my name is Robert Kingett sir.” I had to place my cane on the floor to shake hands with the guy. His hand nearly crushed mine in half his grip was so firm. we broke away. Tommy and his dad signed to each other for a while. I grew bored fast and drew out a Dorothy parker book and began to read, even though it was rude, I felt like it was a nuisance sitting there anyway, so reading didn’t bother me, I thought I should leave, so I did so. Tommy stopped me outside the door.

“I am going to go.” I said flatly. I went on down the hallway and didn’t look back.

I walked along the hallway till I came to a wooden door marked 123. I was looking for an empty room to sit and read, and well it wasn’t far from where Tommy’s mother was being held so I walked in. I didn’t look at the two beds as I walked into the muck smelling room. I went to a rocking chair in the far cormer of the room near the wide window overlooking the parking lot. I sat in it and began to read. I was really getting into the waltz, when some coughed in front of me. I jumped, my cane and all 4 books landed with a clatter and a thump on the floor. I hurried to gather them up and leave, but a black boy about 17 stopped me.

“what you be scared for?” I was still gathering up my books and cane, after I did that and managed to slow my heartbeat down some, I sat back down in the rocking chair and looked at the voice that spoke to me. He was tall. Even sitting he was at least 7 inches taller than I was. His eyes were brown, and he was bald. He was extremely skinny, and had a huge bottem lip that stuck out a little. His skin was coal black, whith huge hands, and unnaturally long arms. Without even bending over, he just reached down and handed me my cane. I was apprehensive about taking things from him because I am not sure if what he has is catching. He appears to staring at my chest so I remove one of the four books that rest there and show it to him. Without even looking at the title he says.

“the waltz. By D parker.” I am baffled. He didn’t even look at the book, just the cover. “I like it. Lots of metaphor is portrayed within the story.” He continues. I felt like I have met my twin. I cannot help but like him instantly.

“there's also lots of irony in the book.” I interject. He nods, as if we share the same secret

“you a reader too?” he stares at me. “I thought I be never meatin’ another reader like me.” I laugh.

“I know. No ones interested in books anymore you know? If you bring up personification around anyone else they are like oblivious to what that word means.” I am so excited I start jumping up and down. He smiles at me, and before you know it we are both laughing.

“ok.. I want to see how good a reader you be. I neva met a avid reader such as myself before. This should be interesting.” I shook my head. “what you be doin dat for?”

“that’s such an old word. What about appealing?” he strokes his chin in wonderment. The way he talked was sort of a mixture of black speech and proper English, which was confusing to me.

“hmm… that’s a good one. Ok, now my test will start. Who wrote the prince's bride?” he stared at me smugly as though he had just asked why did god create humans, and he thought I would never know.. I grinned.

“two authors wrote that book.” He stares at me open mouthed. “actually, there is just one author, but he uses 2 names, and he has books published under each name, but the identity he used when he made the book was S. Morgenstern, and his other identity he uses is Goldman.” He nearly falls out of bed. He laughs so hard I think his gut is going to bust.

“no way! No way! A fellow reader like me! Got another question for you. If you can tell me where this quote comes from I will just die. Ok? Here it is. ‘99 of everything is crap.’” I stop and think. I know I have heard that somewhere before, and it was a book I had at home. I doo not have to think long before the answer comes to me.

“that would be sturgeons law.” I said. “a very good book. I also think that the prince's bride would be a good book also, since it has everything a English teacher hopes for, and also all the literary elements-“ he puts a hand on my arm and I shut up. He is grinning from ear to ear.

“dawg! You be awesome! I neva had such a benevolent feeling in my life! A fellow reader. I never thought I would meet one! I can’t help but laugh. I never thought I would meet a book lover like me neither.

“my names Robert.” I say shaking hands with this huge guy.

“name is shawn.” He looks down at me from his sitting position, which is hard because his head nearly hits the light above his bed. He loks eyes at my twisted leg.

“Ya. I have CP.” I inform him. “and I am also visually impaired” he laughs.

“and you stutter.” I hang my head. He sternly looks at me. “why are you so ashamed? You shouldn’t be. I wasn’t afraid to tell you neither. What color skin I got?” I thought this was some crazy rant, but I said “black”

“that’s right. I got skin the color of night, and I am proud of it. And you should be proud of your deformities. They make you stronger and you can live forever no matter how many obstacles you face. Your soul will always live on!” he stared past me out the window into space.

“hey… you ok?” he looked at me and said “some people don’t have as long a time as others do to enjoy life.” I didn’t know what to say.

“you have cancer don’t you?” he stared at me as if I told his mom that he was in fact, gay. “yes!” He hissed. He looked away again. I came over and sat down on the edge of the bed, and put my hand on his shoulder. “are you afraid?” I asked timidly. He turned to me. A tear rolled down his cheek.

“ afraid of what? dyeing? yes, I am. I am horrified. I am horrified that I have to leave all my family that I care about oh so much, and friends behind.” He looked at me somberly. “even the ones I just met." he said. I felt so sorry for him. His world was coming to an end and he was only a teenager. He wouldn’t get the chance to graduate, marry, have kids, dance at the prom, anything. This was so unfair. And he was so nice too. I handed him a tissue and he wiped his eyes. I patted his shoulder and squeezed it. He looked at me like he was shocked I would do something so kind like that. His huge 5 foot arms stretched out, and he grabbed my shoulders.

“don’t forget me ok?”

“I won’t.” I walked over to his bedside and sat down on the soft white sheets. I brandished one of the four books I was holding and handed it to him, first though, I took a marker and wrote. May I be with you in spirit always? on the inside cover of the book, than I printed my name at the bottom of that short note.

“the giver?” he says in his deep black voice.

“yes!” I say. Read it.

“but I may not have time-“

“read it!" I sternly scolded him. “trust me. A fellow reader. Please?” he took the book out of my hands. I was sad to see it go, but at the same time I felt happy that I could treat someone to a good book. He reached along side his bed and pulled out a book. This, he handed to me. The title caught my eye the minute I laid eyes on it. Enders game.

“now you got to read that for me ok?” I nodded, and we shook hands. We spent 2 more hours quizzing each other on books, and making up short stories and poems just to see how creative we were, Laughing all the while. Tommy came in 2 hours later to get me. How he found me I have no clue what so ever, but he did. I said goodbye to Shawn, which was hard leaving a fellow reader behind, but I managed to keep my cool as I clutched enders game to my chest as we went home.

2 days later, on a Sunday, One day before I have to go to school. I sit in my room now thinking about Shawn, and whether or not he has finished the book yet. I hope so… I really do. No man should pass up great literature. People like me, and Shawn are never heard in the real world. No one even knows what a novel is anymore, and that’s sad. They would rather sit in front of a computer or play a video game. Readers must be rare, because Shawn is the only one who I know of that loves my love. And that is books. I do not know why this revelation hits me so hard now, mabey its because I never met a dying kid before, or perhaps I made the last few months, or days, or maybe even hours of a kid happy. I will never know. A box comes in the mail today. It’s the book that I gave Shawn 2 days ago at the hospital. Along side it there is a small note. I take it outside and read it. Tears welling in my eyes as I do so.

Robert. The book was awesome! I loved it! So much literary elements are portrayed in the book, but I am sure you knew that already. Well, I hate to say this, but the doctors say I have 1 week to live, and then I will leave this world. Its so stressful for me to have met someone who loves what all man should love, and then have to be told he leaves in a week . Did you read enders game yet? I hope you did. There is a flaw in the book itself. See if you can find it for me. will you? My mom says there is one, but I never could locate It no matter how hard I looked, there was no spelling mistake or grammar mistake that I could discern from reading it. Aside from that I do not have the time now. I think you can though, you are smart. Very smart. I wish that more people could look past the deformities we have, and look at US. At what we have to offer as a person, but I know that will never happen. Not in a million years will people not laugh at the color of our skin, or the cane we hold in front of us. I was strong, now I want you to be the same way. Strong. Be the strong for all us readers out there who are too afraid to. So, my strong fellow reader. solve that mystery that I could not, and keep me, and my memory in your heart. Goodbye Robert. And keep reading!

I was crying like a dying wale. No one could surmount to my sobs. And I didn’t care that people were staring at me. I stood there crying my eyes out for the longest time, then after that I walked to the edge of the street paper in hand. I looked up at the setting sun, and tears came to me again. I had school tomorrow, and I didn’t want to go to English class. Mrs. Fonda was going to make us tell about our thanksgiving and I didn’t want to do that. As the glowing sun went to sleep in the darkening sky, I looked up at the heavens, and said my final goodbye. “I will Shawn. I will. No doubt about it. You can count on me.” And letting the paper go I watched it float away, spiraling and flipping high in the purple sky, toward the hospital.