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Justin POV

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Bad days are second-hand for me. They just happen. All the time. In fact, 9/10 of my days are bad.

Every year I get sick for my birthday.

Three years ago my mom and dad told me they were getting divorced on my birthday.

Bad birthdays are also second-hand to me.

Two years ago my mom brought her new boyfriend for my birthday. The guy got drunk and ate all my cake.

Second-hand.

Last year my mom and the guy who ate my cake went on a trip around the time of my birthday.

My dad was supposed to take care of me, but he forgot to pick me up from school. He remembered after the battery on my phone had died and it was dark out.

He didn't get me any presents because he forgot it was my birthday.

This year, I'm not getting my hopes up. This birthday is going to suck.

***

"Happy birthday, sweetie bear." My mom sings out from the kitchen when I sit down at the table. My presents are there. One from my mom. One from my dad. One from each grandparent. The cake is sitting on the counter, which is the greatest present mom's boyfriend could give me.

I look around the room. Nothing out of place. It looks normal. Nothing is wrong with today.

But it's my birthday. It should be awful. That's the way it's always been. It's not normal for this birthday to be fine.

I decide at that moment to not trust the day.

*****

"Dad." I say into the phone. "Thanks for the gift." My dad got me a baseball glove. I don't play baseball. I quit after my parents divorced. I don't actually like the gift, but I am happy he remembered my birthday this time.

"What gift, son?" My dad's voice answers.

"The one you got me. For my birthday." I say. "The baseball glove."

"Your birthday is next month. What are you talking about?" He asks.

"No. It's today." He forgot. My dad forgot my birthday. For the second year in a row.

***

I talk with my dad for a short time after that. All he talks about is his new wife and his little daughter he had with her.

I didn't know he got married until a few months ago when he called me and told me his wife had just given birth to my new sister.

I've never met my sister.

A lot of people would say she isn't my sister, she is my half sister. But I like to consider this girl I have never met family. God knows I could use some family.

***

"Mom. Did you get me a gift from dad?" I ask her, as she and George, her boyfriend sit on the couch watching some dumb show.

"What did you say sweetie? I'm sorry, I didn't hear. Can you ask me later? Lindsie is just about to give away her rose."

I don't know what that means, but I understand the answer. My mom did get me a gift from my dad. But she clearly cared little for me or my birthday.

I walk up the stairs to my room. Depression is covering me like a blanket. It could be worse, I reassure myself. It could be worse.

And I am right. It could be worse. It gets worse, when I step on a piece of paper.

I pick it up to realize that it is a receipt for my gifts. I read it over and find out that all of my gifts were purchased in the department store for less than $20 total. This covers ALL of my gifts.

We aren't rich but I know we have enough money for mom and her boyfriend to travel to France or Spain at least twice a year, in first class seats and stay in four star hotels.

But, apparently, we don't have enough money for my mom to spend more than 30 bucks on gifts for my birthday.

It could be worse, I reassure myself. It could be worse.

I am right, of course. Because after looking at the price of the gifts she got at the drugstore, I look at the top right corner of the receipt. The place where the date that the items were bought is located.

6:48 am, 3/14/20.

That's today. 6:48 am this morning.

My mom didn't bother to get my presents until the day of.

***

After that, I spent the day in my room. I can't go downstairs and look at my mom. I can't look at her boyfriend. I can't look at the empty room down the hall, that used to be my dad's at home office.

I just sit in my room, and try to forget that it's my birthday today.

***

"Sweetie." My mom pokes her head into my room, through the blue door with the ACDC poster on it.

I look up and take out my headphones.

"I just got a call from this girl's mother. The girl has some sort of cancer. And apparently there is some sort of foundation that grants the dying wishes of people with cancer."

"Yeah." I nod my head. I already know all this stuff.

"Anyway, this girl used her wish to go on a date. At least, she hopes to use it on that. And the people at the wish place are setting it up for tomorrow at the carnival. But they can't force anyone to go on a date with her. And, well, this is uncomfortable to say, but her mom was wondering if you would?"

Oh. A girl with cancer wants to go on a date with me? How does she even know me?

But, spending a day with her would be better than spending a day with my mom and George.

That's why I nod my head.

"Great." My mother exclaims. "They are faxing over the details, but all I know is that the driver will pick you up from here tomorrow at 3 pm."

My mom leaves the room and leaves me by myself.

After another hour, I find my stomach grumbling and walk down the stairs to the kitchen.

As I enter, I notice the smell of pepperoni pizza, my favorite.

"Great, you ordered pizza." I say, as I walk over and open the box sitting on the dining table. It's empty except for a crust and some grease.

"Oh, sorry kid." George pipes up, from the couch. "Your mom and I ate all the pizza. We were just starving."

My mom laughs. She is sitting next to him on the couch. "We just forgot to call you hon. Make yourself a sandwich if you're hungry."

Instead, I head back upstairs. Starving would be better than staying in that kitchen.

As I fall asleep that night, I find myself looking more and more forward to my date with the girl with cancer.

***

When I wake up the next morning, the sun isn't shining in my window. The birds aren't chirping. No. I wake up to the sound of George's speaker blasting some rap song by an awful rap artist.

The clothes in my closet aren't nice enough for a date with a girl who might not live long enough to have another one, but I settle for a blue dress shirt and khaki shorts.

My tennis shoes are the best I can find, so I slip them on.

Then, and only then, do I realize that the date doesn't start for hours.

I guess that's just how desperate I am to escape my house.

***

At precisely 3'0 clock, I hear a horn honk outside. I rush out of the house to the limo waiting outside. My mom doesn't call after me. She doesn't wish me luck. She doesn't say she's proud of me. The only sound that escaped her, is an 'I love you' to George.

The driver of the limo gets out and holds the door open for me.

I slide inside and sharply inhale. The cushions are light and soft and make it so comfortable to sit in. The inside of the limo is huge with dim lights that alternate colors. There is a sleek mini-fridge to the side with Coke, Pepsi, Sprite, Fanta, and any drink imaginable. It looks like something from a movie.

"Hey." A small meek voice escapes from the seat in the corner. There sits a girl I hadn't noticed before. This must be the girl I am to go on a date with. The girl with cancer. "My name's Aubrey."

I hadn't noticed how she looked before. She is sickeningly pale. See-through even. I can see her thin veins practically popping out of her skin. She is lean, but clearly not because of starvation. She can't gain any weight. That's how sick she is.

A shawl, painted in white flowers atop a blue background, sits upon her head, covering a place too smooth to have hair under it. Her eyes are brown. Not chocolate. Not chesnut. Not any color that can be described. It's not a pretty brown. It's a lifeless one. It's as if she has given up.

"My name is Justin. It's nice to meet you, Aubrey." I say this genuinely. It's nice to meet this girl who helped me escape the house, even if it's just for the day. It's nice to meet this girl who, unfortunately, doesn't have much longer to live. I'm serious. It's nice to meet her.

But something tells me I am not meeting her for the first time. I swear, I have seen her before. I swear I have said her name.

Not this version of her, though. Not this fragile, pale, bald, lifeless version of her. I remember her. A different her. A happy her. But that's not her anymore.

*****

Chocolate. That's my favorite ice cream flavor. There is just something about chocolate that is so satisfying. So creamy. So delicious that I can't much eat any other kind of ice cream.

I look at Aubrey. She is a Mint Chocolate Chip kind of girl. I can understand that. The chocolate inside of it. And the mint. The mint brings a freshness to the ice cream. A dash of life to it. Perhaps this is a kind of drug to her. One that feeds her small doses of life that she is losing either way.

*****

The wish granting people have brought us to a carnival. A fair. There are roller coasters, ferris wheels, bumper cars. I want to go on all of them. But Aubrey isn't supposed to. So I don't either. It wouldn't be fair for her to watch me live while she stands there while the cancer makes her die.

We stand on the pier looking out onto the calm still water of the lake. She seems sad. I need to strike up a conversation with her. "So. Tell me about your family." I say.

"What's to tell? My mom is obsessive with worry. My dad sees me a lot, but he has to work to 'pay the bills'. I have no siblings. My grandparents don't live near. My closest family is my doctor. Her name is Dr. Michelle. My other closest family is Dr. Michelle's wife, but I haven't seen much of her recently. Even she has left me." Aubrey's voice is raspy, as if she hasn't heard of drinking water.

"You think your life is bad? Try being forgotten completely. My mom barely remembers me. I don't see my dad at all. At least everyone remembers you. You are constantly being hovered over." I say this as kindly as I can manage, but I fear she can hear the resentment in my voice.

"You're wrong you know. I have been forgotten as well." She whispers. Even at a whisper, her voice is raspy.

"I kindly disagree. There is no way you have been forgotten. Everyone cares deeply for you. They are constantly by your side, fighting the cancer." I reply.

"Exactly. They have forgotten ME. Not my cancer. My cancer is all they remember of me now. They don't see Aubrey, they see cancer girl. They see the disease, not the person. I have been forgotten as well."

I never thought of this. Aubrey. The girl with all the attention in the world, has been completely and entirely forgotten.

"Then let's be friends. We can be forgotten together. Better yet, we can remember each other." I say this with a certainty that I haven't felt before. I know I want to continue to be friends with Aubrey. She is someone who understands what it's like to be forgotten.

I see her nod her head. She looks hesitant. As if she is expecting more. What could be better than a friend who gets you?

"Yeah. I guess we can be friends." She says.

*****

As the 'date's goes by, I find myself more and more intrigued by Aubrey. She is funny, sarcastic, and there truly is a person beyond cancer.

"Let's keep in touch." I say, as the driver drops her off at her house and I walk her to the door.

"Yeah. Let's." She smiles at me. A warm smile that makes her less pale, less gloomy, less dead.

Then she turns around and walks through her front door.

I dismiss the limo driver, choosing to walk the rest of the short way home.

As I walk, I think of her. When will I see her again? In a few days? Next week? Can I visit her at the hospital?

I think this the entire way home.

I think it a month later, when I still haven't heard from her.

I think it half a year later, when I still haven't heard of her.

I think it a year later, when I STILL haven't heard from her.

I think about it until I finally stop thinking about it. Until it is a distant memory. Until I start forgetting about her, the girl beyond cancer. The girl I vowed I wouldn't forget.