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When it all began...
A chapter in the book Iris
23rd April
by Heather Knight
It's tough being me. When Mum woke me up this morning I pretended not to hear her at the beginning, like I do every day. Then, I begged for a few extra minutes and I smiled happily when she left my room. I snuggled against my warm pillow and tried to go back to my dream. What had it been about? I had already forgotten, but I knew it had been something good because I still retained this fuzzy feeling I have most mornings. Except on the days when I have a nightmare, then I am covered in a cold sweat from head to toe and willing to leave my bed.
When Mum came back, I knew I had to get up or I'd be in trouble. She is mostly peaceful but you wouldn't want to incur her wrath. Or else. When she starts screaming she can be one scary lady.
I put on my new slippers and listened for my brother. Every morning, Marcus and I have this race for the bathroom. It's of the essence to get there before him because his showers are the longest on the planet. When he gets out, the walls are dripping wet and the mirror is covered in steam.
We have two bathrooms at home, but Mum refuses to share hers with us. She says it's the only way to keep it clean. According to her, ours looks like a pigsty and one pigsty per home is enough. Her words, not mine. But I have to admit she has a point.
And that's when I first noticed something was wrong. When I put on my slippers, I mean. My left leg felt as if it was made of jelly, the only way I could walk was by dragging it behind me, which I did. I thought it was weird and a bit scary, but put it down to me having slept in an awkward position or something.
Of course Marcus beat me to the bathroom, so I decided to have breakfast first instead.
'Do you want some toast?' Mum asked me.
'Yes, please. Two pieces.'
'Jam?'
'Do we have honey?'
'There's a bit left.'
I didn't say anything about my leg. I would wait and see, maybe it was just a temporary thing. No need to worry Mum unnecessarily. Ever since Dad died, both Marcus and I have tried to protect her from all kinds of unpleasantness. It's as if the mother children roles had been reversed. I'm not saying she's a bad mother, just that she's not all there, her heart is somewhere else. The truth is, she's become quite self-involved. She worries more about her own feelings of sadness than she does about us.
After wolfing down my toast and drinking a glass of cold milk (at least my appetite has remained intact), I got up and left the kitchen. Mum didn't notice my limping as she was washing up and humming to herself.
Getting into the bathtub was difficult, but I managed to have my shower and get dressed. I tried to distract myself by singing some of my favourite songs. Singing is a passion of mine, I wish Mum would let me take classes, but she says we don't have enough money right now. All the same, I'll try to convince her again next course.
At quarter to nine, Mum was waiting in the hall, ready to drive us to school.
'What's wrong with your leg, Iris?' she asked me.
'Nothing. My rucksack is very heavy today.'
Marcus looked at me, opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and stared at the floor, as if his sneakers held some kind of secret he was trying to decipher.
I praised God for giving me such a gullible mother.
In the playground, I sat on a bench while my friends kicked a ball. I wanted to play but the truth was I just couldn't. Marcus saw me and came to sit beside me. He must have noticed something was seriously wrong, because he usually avoids me at school. He tells his friends I'm the bane of his existence. And he uses every opportunity at his disposal to make jokes about me and say mean things to me. Still, I think deep down he loves me. Or at least I hope so.
'What's really wrong with you, sis?'
I love his calling me sis, mainly because he never does.
'I can hardly move my leg.'
'Have you fallen or something?'
'Not that I can remember.'
'You should have told Mum,' he said, his eyes clouded with concern.
'I don't want to worry her.'
'We can't keep on protecting Mum forever, you know. She's the grown up. If you don't tell her, I will. You have to go to the doctor's.'
'Let's wait till tomorrow, please. Then, if I'm not better, I'll tell her.'
'Deal,' he said and then he did something that astonished me. He gave me a kiss.
Marcus is thirteen, two years older than me. He's tall and thin and always gets the best marks in his class. He's also very good at playing the guitar, which is something he learnt from Dad.
Even though I've never told him, I'm really proud of him. I hope he's proud of me as well, but I suspect he sees me more as a nuisance, something he has to put up with.
It's tough being me. When Mum woke me up this morning I pretended not to hear her at the beginning, like I do every day. Then, I begged for a few extra minutes and I smiled happily when she left my room. I snuggled against my warm pillow and tried to go back to my dream. What had it been about? I had already forgotten, but I knew it had been something good because I still retained this fuzzy feeling I have most mornings. Except on the days when I have a nightmare, then I am covered in a cold sweat from head to toe and willing to leave my bed.
When Mum came back, I knew I had to get up or I'd be in trouble. She is mostly peaceful but you wouldn't want to incur her wrath. Or else. When she starts screaming she can be one scary lady.
I put on my new slippers and listened for my brother. Every morning, Marcus and I have this race for the bathroom. It's of the essence to get there before him because his showers are the longest on the planet. When he gets out, the walls are dripping wet and the mirror is covered in steam.
We have two bathrooms at home, but Mum refuses to share hers with us. She says it's the only way to keep it clean. According to her, ours looks like a pigsty and one pigsty per home is enough. Her words, not mine. But I have to admit she has a point.
And that's when I first noticed something was wrong. When I put on my slippers, I mean. My left leg felt as if it was made of jelly, the only way I could walk was by dragging it behind me, which I did. I thought it was weird and a bit scary, but put it down to me having slept in an awkward position or something.
Of course Marcus beat me to the bathroom, so I decided to have breakfast first instead.
'Do you want some toast?' Mum asked me.
'Yes, please. Two pieces.'
'Jam?'
'Do we have honey?'
'There's a bit left.'
I didn't say anything about my leg. I would wait and see, maybe it was just a temporary thing. No need to worry Mum unnecessarily. Ever since Dad died, both Marcus and I have tried to protect her from all kinds of unpleasantness. It's as if the mother children roles had been reversed. I'm not saying she's a bad mother, just that she's not all there, her heart is somewhere else. The truth is, she's become quite self-involved. She worries more about her own feelings of sadness than she does about us.
After wolfing down my toast and drinking a glass of cold milk (at least my appetite has remained intact), I got up and left the kitchen. Mum didn't notice my limping as she was washing up and humming to herself.
Getting into the bathtub was difficult, but I managed to have my shower and get dressed. I tried to distract myself by singing some of my favourite songs. Singing is a passion of mine, I wish Mum would let me take classes, but she says we don't have enough money right now. All the same, I'll try to convince her again next course.
At quarter to nine, Mum was waiting in the hall, ready to drive us to school.
'What's wrong with your leg, Iris?' she asked me.
'Nothing. My rucksack is very heavy today.'
Marcus looked at me, opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and stared at the floor, as if his sneakers held some kind of secret he was trying to decipher.
I praised God for giving me such a gullible mother.
In the playground, I sat on a bench while my friends kicked a ball. I wanted to play but the truth was I just couldn't. Marcus saw me and came to sit beside me. He must have noticed something was seriously wrong, because he usually avoids me at school. He tells his friends I'm the bane of his existence. And he uses every opportunity at his disposal to make jokes about me and say mean things to me. Still, I think deep down he loves me. Or at least I hope so.
'What's really wrong with you, sis?'
I love his calling me sis, mainly because he never does.
'I can hardly move my leg.'
'Have you fallen or something?'
'Not that I can remember.'
'You should have told Mum,' he said, his eyes clouded with concern.
'I don't want to worry her.'
'We can't keep on protecting Mum forever, you know. She's the grown up. If you don't tell her, I will. You have to go to the doctor's.'
'Let's wait till tomorrow, please. Then, if I'm not better, I'll tell her.'
'Deal,' he said and then he did something that astonished me. He gave me a kiss.
Marcus is thirteen, two years older than me. He's tall and thin and always gets the best marks in his class. He's also very good at playing the guitar, which is something he learnt from Dad.
Even though I've never told him, I'm really proud of him. I hope he's proud of me as well, but I suspect he sees me more as a nuisance, something he has to put up with.
When Mum came back, I knew I had to get up or I'd be in trouble. She is mostly peaceful but you wouldn't want to incur her wrath. Or else. When she starts screaming she can be one scary lady.
I put on my new slippers and listened for my brother. Every morning, Marcus and I have this race for the bathroom. It's of the essence to get there before him because his showers are the longest on the planet. When he gets out, the walls are dripping wet and the mirror is covered in steam.
We have two bathrooms at home, but Mum refuses to share hers with us. She says it's the only way to keep it clean. According to her, ours looks like a pigsty and one pigsty per home is enough. Her words, not mine. But I have to admit she has a point.
And that's when I first noticed something was wrong. When I put on my slippers, I mean. My left leg felt as if it was made of jelly, the only way I could walk was by dragging it behind me, which I did. I thought it was weird and a bit scary, but put it down to me having slept in an awkward position or something.
Of course Marcus beat me to the bathroom, so I decided to have breakfast first instead.
'Do you want some toast?' Mum asked me.
'Yes, please. Two pieces.'
'Jam?'
'Do we have honey?'
'There's a bit left.'
I didn't say anything about my leg. I would wait and see, maybe it was just a temporary thing. No need to worry Mum unnecessarily. Ever since Dad died, both Marcus and I have tried to protect her from all kinds of unpleasantness. It's as if the mother children roles had been reversed. I'm not saying she's a bad mother, just that she's not all there, her heart is somewhere else. The truth is, she's become quite self-involved. She worries more about her own feelings of sadness than she does about us.
After wolfing down my toast and drinking a glass of cold milk (at least my appetite has remained intact), I got up and left the kitchen. Mum didn't notice my limping as she was washing up and humming to herself.
Getting into the bathtub was difficult, but I managed to have my shower and get dressed. I tried to distract myself by singing some of my favourite songs. Singing is a passion of mine, I wish Mum would let me take classes, but she says we don't have enough money right now. All the same, I'll try to convince her again next course.
At quarter to nine, Mum was waiting in the hall, ready to drive us to school.
'What's wrong with your leg, Iris?' she asked me.
'Nothing. My rucksack is very heavy today.'
Marcus looked at me, opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and stared at the floor, as if his sneakers held some kind of secret he was trying to decipher.
I praised God for giving me such a gullible mother.
In the playground, I sat on a bench while my friends kicked a ball. I wanted to play but the truth was I just couldn't. Marcus saw me and came to sit beside me. He must have noticed something was seriously wrong, because he usually avoids me at school. He tells his friends I'm the bane of his existence. And he uses every opportunity at his disposal to make jokes about me and say mean things to me. Still, I think deep down he loves me. Or at least I hope so.
'What's really wrong with you, sis?'
I love his calling me sis, mainly because he never does.
'I can hardly move my leg.'
'Have you fallen or something?'
'Not that I can remember.'
'You should have told Mum,' he said, his eyes clouded with concern.
'I don't want to worry her.'
'We can't keep on protecting Mum forever, you know. She's the grown up. If you don't tell her, I will. You have to go to the doctor's.'
'Let's wait till tomorrow, please. Then, if I'm not better, I'll tell her.'
'Deal,' he said and then he did something that astonished me. He gave me a kiss.
Marcus is thirteen, two years older than me. He's tall and thin and always gets the best marks in his class. He's also very good at playing the guitar, which is something he learnt from Dad.
Even though I've never told him, I'm really proud of him. I hope he's proud of me as well, but I suspect he sees me more as a nuisance, something he has to put up with.
The real title of this book is 'Because I Found You In A Cabbage Patch', but there was not enough space for it.
The story is loosely based on my daughter's fight with leukemia, but it's a novel.
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and 2 member cents. The story is loosely based on my daughter's fight with leukemia, but it's a novel.
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