Larkin's Letters by Jax Jillian Read Free Book Online Page A

always liked you, Ryan, but for some reason, she always seemed to make me feel like I wasn’t good enough for you. Maybe if I had become that cheerleader, that homecoming and prom queen, then my mother would feel differently.
    “Besides, Larkin, he is in South Africa. That is a lot to expect from him to travel all this way. And anyway, he needs to focus on keeping himself out of the tabloids with all these women that he dates.”
    I didn’t feel the need to respond to her snarky comment. I instead stared out the window and prayed you would come. I started to think maybe my mother was right. Maybe you shouldn’t have to deal with this. You have your own life to live. You never really talk to me about the women that you date, but I am well aware. It’s hard not to be when your pictures are always in the magazines with different models and actresses. I never know who is coming and going. But how can I blame you? You’re allowed to date. I know you are still reeling from your divorce, and I imagine you’re lonely. I know I am. But, Ryan, I do hope you will eventually settle down soon.
    I felt my mother place her hand on my knee. “Well, maybe he will come. I hope he does. I know you really want him to.” She must have seen the sadness in my face after her last comment. I know she doesn’t fully understand the friendship that you and I share, so I am quick to let go of the resentment I am feeling at this moment. We just pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, and I can barely breathe. I’ll continue my letter when I get inside and settled…
    …As we made our way across the car-filled parking lot, I intertwined my arm with Joan’s. I felt like everything was moving in slow motion, and it seemed like it took ages to get to the entrance of the building. My mother must have felt me trembling because she unlocked my grasp on her arm and instead wrapped her arm around my waist and held me close to her as we entered into the elevator.
    The air in the hospital was frigid, and I was glad I had the sweatshirt you had given me. My mother and I checked in, and the nurse, Rose, guided us to a room where I was to get my blood drawn. Rose was very nice. She is middle-aged. I would guess maybe forty-five. But she has a comforting smile and a soft voice that can put anybody at ease. I hope she is my nurse every time I come. The white-walled hallways were uninviting and cold, and the white-tiled floors underneath my feet felt hard as cement. Rose took us into a laboratory room where she drew my blood to see if I am even healthy enough to get chemo today. After she finished, my mom and I went to the snack room to get something to eat, and then we walked the grounds as we waited to find out if I would indeed be getting treatment. About forty-five minutes passed before I was startled by the beep sounding from the pager, alerting us to come back inside. The last thing I wanted to do was to leave the beautiful and colorful landscape of the hospital grounds and go back into the colorless, unwelcoming hallways. We entered into what they called the infusion room to get ready for my treatment. This room was a little more friendly and inviting with a flat- screen TV, windows, and a huge brown recliner that could probably sit three of me.
    As I got comfortable, Rose began to set me up with the IV. I couldn’t help but feel sad and disappointed that you hadn’t come. I figured you would have been here by now or at least left me a message that you were running late. But maybe you’re not able to. After all, you are coming from South Africa, and I knew it was hard for you to get time off from filming. But then again you would have called if you weren’t able to come, wouldn’t you? Well, maybe you just didn’t want to after all. Maybe it is too much for you to deal with, and you changed your mind, and you didn’t want to hurt me.
    I must have let my mind drift away into slumber as my mother held my hand while she read a book because the