A YEAR LATER. . .

"VAL." 

Her dark hair was pulled up into a ponytail and she was running towards me like her life depended on it. The closer she got, the more I noticed how different she was. Her face was sharper and I had no doubt that she was still taller than me.

When she did finally reach me, she crouched down and hugged me so tight I was actually afraid I couldn't breathe. Well, I guessed that's what you would do when you hadn't seen a person for almost seven months.

"Look at you!" she shrieked. "You in your glasses look cuter in person! And oh my God, you cut your hair!"

It was true. Instead of it hanging down on my back, it was just barely reaching my shoulders. I quite like the style; it was part of me starting new and fresh again.

"I love it!" she rejoiced. "I can't believe you're really here. Alive and breathing! And all of us thought you were going to die in your eighteenth birthday. But you didn't. And look at you. I just knew it." She looked like she was about to cry.

Then she really did.

My caretaker, Thirty-Something Shannon, escorted us both inside the main lobby. Val signed the guest list sheet; she was going to spend the whole day here with me.

Broadview Health Care Center was pretty much heaven to me. There were basically gardens wherever you went to, and fountains were present on every edge of the establishment. Everyday, three or more people would be outside, enjoying the fresh air and sitting on the benches with their caretakers.

Broadview had more than enough facilities and services. There was a cafeteria, a gym (although there were only, like, three people ever going there), a library and a few rooms that also included the main room (where everyone would hang out to either play chess, dance around or play bingo.) Each of us had one or two caretakers that were practically our babysitters 24/7. There were two floors: the first one was for the daily activities and such, while the second floor housed the rooms and medical stuff that we needed.

Tom was right. I was the youngest. When I arrived, all the other members just stared at me like I was some alien. It wasn't everyday an eighteen-year-old came living in a nursing home of some sorts. Although, what I liked about the place was that it was more than just a nursing home, like I had described before.

When we were walking to the main room, I saw one of my closest friends―Catherine, also known as Devon's grandmother. I didn't find that weird at all, actually. When I approached her and told her I was Devon's friend, she instantly warmed up to me, despite being intimidating at first.

Yes, yes. All my close friends were older than sixty.

But hey, they're pretty cool.

"HEY, CATH," I greeted when Val, Shannon and I reached her.

She turned and smiled at me, a huge grin on her wrinkled face.

Catherine had asthma ever since she was thirteen years old. Now, she was seventy-two, living as bright as ever. Seriously, I thought Cath was one of the most eccentric people I've ever met.

"Hi, Emily." Her smile faded as her gaze switched to Val. "Valerie?"

Val had gone pale. It was like all the colors had drained from her face. She gulped, taking a deep breath. "Uh — Catherine. I mean, ma'am. Nice me meet you. I-I mean, nice to meet you again."

Again? They knew each other?

Oh.

Of course they did. Cath was Devon's grandmother. It made sense that she and Val already met, but if she did, then did that mean her and Devon were already. . .?

Cath raised her eyebrows. "You taking care of my big boy?"

It was a rare sight, but I saw Val blush. "Uh, I guess so."

"Good."

When we bid our goodbyes to Cath and headed out to the garden, I automatically began interrogating her.

"ARE YOU AND DEVON TOGETHER NOW. TELL ME," I urged. "I STILL HAVE NOT FORGIVEN YOU FOR NOT TELLING ME ABOUT DEVON. YOU OWE ME THIS." I kept going. "WHAT KIND OF A PERSON DATES HER BEST FRIENDS TORMENTER AND NOT TELL HER ABOUT IT."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Val roll her eyes. "We weren't exactly best friends, remember? You were all hooked up with Oliver, no matter how many times you said you were only with him because of the ALS."

This time, I was the one who blushed. Well, technically that had been the truth.

We spent the rest of the day talking about everything — her life in Princeton (which I envied), her relationship with Devon (yes, they were back together, and he was also attending there now) and eventually, about me. I still talked to the Grants everyday via Skype, and sometimes they even came in person.

Jake finally got a job. He worked as a waiter at this Chinese restaurant called Lotus House, and it was pretty well known in the area, so the business was very good. I saw Tom last week, and wow, he was taller than I used to be when I was his age. He was also a little bit buffer than I remembered? And now he wasn't 'connected' to his phone anymore. Instead of being the gloomy, outcast kid, he's actually becoming a Grant — being generally liked by everyone regardless of whether you were being a jerk half the time. (Okay, that was the Grant definition of Oliver, Jake, and Andre. Raph and Jessie were actually pretty nice.)

Speaking of the other Grants, Raph still looked the same. His hair had grown until it reached the nape of his neck, which kind of reminded me of Aladdin somehow. Jessie was more, oh, how do I say this? "Proper." She was in School of Medicine, anyway, which was part of NYU. Sure, she was still into dancing, but I noticed she was acting so mature now. It was like her but unlike her at the same time.

And Oliver. . . well, I hadn't seen him in person.

We Skyped a lot (okay, everyday) and it would always be the highlight of my day. Replaying back to our Skype calls, I began to realise how much he had changed.

The way his brown hair had started curling on the nape of his neck, looking more curly than wavy. The smallest signs of a scruff starting to form. The tiredness that I sometimes saw in his eyes as he was living the college life, but seeing that tiredness gone in a flash as he looked at me.

I would see that flash in two days.

He was coming back for the first time after he started college. He attended Seattle University, apparently, but he said it was fine since Andre was going to graduate soon enough. His major was psychology, and if I'd go to college, I would've picked that, too. I was happy for him.

He was going to visit Jake, Tom and his parents first, then head over to Broadview so he could meet me. I wanted to come with him to see the Grants, but sadly I wasn't in shape. It was better and safer for me to hang out in places around this city, and going back to Mayfair neighborhood was just two hours too long.

Val, meanwhile, was going to stay at her parents' for a few weeks. I absolutely couldn't wait until she visited again because one day was clearly not enough.

After Shannon tucked me into bed and put the non invasive ventilation on me, she said 'goodnight' and turned the lights off.

And I know it seemed weird — and maybe creepy — but I dreamt about Oliver that night.

________

"The weather's nice, isn't it?" Shannon asked.

I closed my eyes, feeling the wind softly blowing my short hair. While thinking of a reply, I forgot that, with my eyes closed, I wouldn't able to speak. I opened them and blinked. "YES, IT IS."

I was expecting her to say more, but when she stayed silent, I looked at her. She was frowning at something. "Why is that boy running towards us?"

Boy? Turning my head slowly, with my heart pounding, I looked at the direction she was looking at. And what I saw was too good to be true.

Oliver Joseph Grant was, indeed, running towards me, his hair bouncing off his head and his face radiant with the bright sunlight. His skin had gotten tanner and he looked more built, the pale green button-up shirt stretching against his arms and shoulders.

Once he was standing in front of me, I was expecting him to envelope me in a hug, but he frowned and looked at Shannon instead. "Um, hello? Who are you?"

Sigh. Of course.

Shannon blinked. Whether it was from surprise or not, she quickly collected herself. "I'm Shannon, Emily's caretaker. And who are you?"

He grinned wickedly, an amused glint in his eyes. "Oliver Grant. Her boyfriend."

Could you believe I still wasn't used to the b-word? Even after four months of being together? Seriously, every time I heard it, I would always think back to when I felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest.

"Emilia Marie Woods," he had said, during a night of gazing at the stars. "What was the name of that guy who played in Men In Black? His last name was Smith?"

Oh, phew, I had thought. Usually when people called me by my full name, it meant something was serious. "UM. WILL."

"Oh, right. What's the letter after T?"

What in the world. . . ? Why was he asking so many random questions? "U."

"What's the opposite of stop?"

I frowned, but something in my gut told me to keep going. "UH, GO."

"In baseball, three strikes and you're. . .?"

"OUT."

"To find the area of a rectangle, you multiply length and. . .?"

"WIDTH."

"Do. .. Re. . ."

"MI."

Oliver lost his self control and burst into laughter, making me even more confused. What was with those questions? I knew that it was some kind of a game, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Well, I'm flattered, Em," he says, still with that irresistible grin. "Of course I'll go out with you."

I wanted to mentally slap myself for falling into his trick. It took me some time to realise what he had made me say with all those words — "will u go out width mi." Well, it wasn't like I didn't want it to happen, but at least I wanted to know what was going on. When he said those words, I was completely thrown back. It was so out of the blue that I was surprised I didn't faint or anything.

But the next day, we actually went on our first date. And that was how it started. 

"Oh." Shannon paused, giving me a look. "Okay, then. I'm sure you can take of her while you're here?" Oliver nodded impatiently. "Come see me when you're ready to leave. Have fun, Emily." She smiled at me as she walked away.

When she was gone, Oliver immediately crouched down and leaned forward to hug me tight. I couldn't hug him back due to my useless arms, but I did move my head just a little so I could bury my head in his neck. His hair smelled of mint and leaves, which was an intoxicating smell.

When he pulled back, he pressed a light kiss on my forehead, then to my cheek. His green eyes continued to study my every feature.

"Wow," Oliver whistled. "Nice haircut."

I smiled weakly. "YOU SHOULD GET ONE."

He rolled his eyes. "When pigs fly, yeah, sure."

With Oliver pushing behind me, we walked around the garden, passing some of my old friends and caretakers who were enjoying the fresh air, too.

"So," he started. "Nice place you have here."

It was really nice.

"HOW IS LIFE."

I mentally cursed, wanting to slap myself. What kind of question was that? It was too big, too general. I should've never asked him th —

"My life's pretty good as long as I know you're still in it."

I blushed. Why, oh why did he have to say things like that? Didn't he knew how easily affected I was?

Judging by his entertained grin, he knew exactly that.

After the garden walk, we went back inside and went to the main room, where most of the 'patients' were at. A lot of heads were turned as they saw the youngest people in the room — scratch that. In the whole building, actually.

We played chess, talked with Cath and the others, sang along to some 80's songs. Turns out, Oliver wasn't a bad singer. I guess 'terrible singing' wasn't in the list of genes in the Grants — only Tom had that unfortunate fate.

I wouldn't say I was a bad singer, but in my case, I just watched. Oliver convinced me to try, but when I did, I was always ten seconds late to the lyrics. Plus, you couldn't exactly hear the "excitement" in my "voice."

The day ended with Oliver and I perched up in the bed, sitting comfortably next to each other as we fixated our gaze to the TV. Watching what, you may ask? Oh, I'm pretty sure you already know.

And so, ladies and gentlemen, that was how today had become one of my favorite days.

Sadly, he couldn't stay for the night, since it was somehow not allowed in Broadview. We were both disappointed at the fact but I was still grateful for this day.

Before he left, though, I wanted him to do a last favor.

"You want me to write a letter?" he asked in disbelief.

"YES."

He shook his head, still thrown aback. "You've written thousands of letters without me before, now that you've got those high tech equipment and stuff. Plus, you got Shannon to do your work. Why do you need me now?"

"BECAUSE IT IS MY LAST LETTER." 

________

On the outside, it may look like I was happy.

It may look like my life was, well, perfect — I was living in a safe community full of wonderful and caring people, I had a 'boyfriend,' and I lived life with ease and happiness.

What most people didn't know was that half of those things were not true.

I wasn't technically happy. I wasn't unhappy, either. Even after such a long time, I still hadn't moved on from what happened six months ago. I took antidepressants every week with the help of Shannon, and even she didn't know the full story. She was too nice and respectful to ask me about it.

Oliver stared at me in bafflement, even more bewildered than before. "Last letter? Why?"

I shook my head a bit, and I decided to confess. "I STILL HAVE NOT WRITTEN A LETTER TO MY DAD. ONLY YOU, VAL, JESSIE AND THE OTHERS."

It didn't matter if Dad couldn't reply or not. If I wrote anything, anything about what had happened, I would break. A few months ago, Aunt Rosie told me that Dad already knew about Mom's death and my 'new' condition. I didn't know how to feel about that.

But I did know that I couldn't wait anymore. I just needed to move on, and it was kind of hard to do knowing that Dad was counting on me on writing a letter.

Well, now I was going to.

And there wasn't going to be any more.

"WILL YOU WRITE ONE LAST LETTER FOR ME."

________

It is estimated that ALS is responsible for nearly two deaths per hundred thousand population annually.

It didn't kill me.

Yet, it killed my mother.

Oliver was sitting on the desk near my bed, a blank paper and a pen ready in his hands.

"You ready?" he asked tentatively.

I was.

And he began writing the very first words:

M A R C H  8 ,  20 1 2

This is my last letter.

Aaand that's it! Sincerely, Emily is finally over.

What did you guys think about it? It was short but that was intentional. If i made it longer, you'd probably be already bored. Lol.

Btw, that scene where Em "asked" Ollie out? I got that little trick from a Tumblr post :) I thought it was really sweet, so. Tumblr is full of amazing and weird things.

I've posted another Author's Note so go check that out!