Plague Within

Chapter One: Eyes on the Storm

Everything was white, eerily clean and pristine. The trees were frozen, the roads silent, it felt like the entire world had been made ice by the storm the night before. My boot made a hard crunch as I stepped into the snow, breaking the ice – and suddenly the world was alive again. A snow plow noisily mowed down the road, churning exhaust into the air; staining the moments before untouched ground. I breathed in the chilled air, my brain scolding me for the lack of scarf, but I liked the way the wind made my face hurt. The first day of the New Year was here, colder than the day before, but full of opportunities.

I rubbed my hands together as I walked quickly to my car, “New year, new me.”

There was only one task on my agenda for the day, one I’d probably put off too long. But at the suggest of one or more doctors I finally figured the hell with it, I would go. I would hate it, and they could finally stop bugging me about it and go back to focusing on the important business. The backroom of the multi-faith recreation hall was medium sized, the walls some pale flesh tone taped over with more inspirational posters than I cared to count. Ones for every Anonymous group known to man, the kitten on a branch framed perfectly in the middle, the gospel level words of, Hang In There. A few heavily jacketed bodies turned their heads to look at me as I finally let the door close behind me, but quickly turned their attention back to the woman talking in the middle of the room. I felt my stomach tighten as I took a seat in the circle of chairs, choosing one close to the door and out of eyesight of who I assumed lead the group.

The room was pretty quiet besides whatever she was saying. Everyone sat practically motionless, eyes devoid of any real energy - who could blame them. The only thing of real energy was the woman in shiny boots waving her hands around like an excited party planner. Her black jeans and oversized sweater formed a blur as she scurried around, preparing coffee, offering donuts, and hanging jackets. Her eyes finally landed on me, with a lively gaze I felt her soak in my image as her pupils locked on mine. My heart heated up my still cold skin as I looked at her; she had a gaze like I’d never felt. Intense clear purple eyes framed by silver and black hair. Her lips quirked before she turned her gaze to welcome someone else into the circle. I sat straighter in my chair, more attentive now to the discussion.

She smiled as she turned back and forth between the empty chairs, “I see a few fresh and frozen faces among those here today. I’d like to welcome you all here to this space. My name is Violet Wolfe,” she gave a little wave to us all, finally settling herself in a position just outside the circle. “Since I see so many new people how about we go around and introduce ourselves, tell what ever information we’re comfortable with?”

She waved her hand at a nearby man and he rose, still in sweat pants and a heavy coat he palmed at his chin before eyeing us all, “Hi, I’m Russel, forty-five. Um, currently moved to the area to be closer to the treatment center, used to live up in Stochholm, realizing it’s equally cold down here in Burwick. But I guess that’s Maine for you… “ he fidgeted with his hands, “Currently going to York Hospital for lung cancer, finishing my last round of chemo next month…”

Violet nodded, I nodded, the whole circle simultaneously nodded. We all had an idea of what his shoes felt like. Stiff, unforgiving, like someone had bought us the wrong size but we were stuck with them anyway. Except it wasn’t lousy shoes we all had, it was cancer. Something inside us had gone wrong, and now we were all here trying to cope. To find unity, or a place to vent, or just talk to people who knew the terminology. It was still all formulaic, you couldn’t avoid that, to do otherwise would wear you down like a old pair of shoes.

“So what brings you to this group, Russel?”

He eyed her, then the rest of us, “I just want to be around others who understand what this feels like, who aren’t scared by the word cancer, like its contagious. To make some friends.”

He smiled at the group and sat, still fidgeting with his hands as he looked up to Violet. Her weighted gaze fell on me.

It was my turn I suppose, unzipping my coat I gave the circle a brisk glance before focusing my eyes on the ‘hang in there’ cat poster,“I’m Karen, my brain cancer has recently gone into remission.”

“So what brought you, Karen, to this group?”

I looked away from the cat, those purple eyes locked on me. “I was told I would die, that I’d have maybe five years. So I got my life in order, said my goodbyes. And realized now I don’t really know how to say hello anymore.”

“Definite food for thought, thank you for sharing.”

Sitting down again my eyes fixed on Violet, she gave a appreciative smile before turning to the others and waving her hand to enthuse the next person to stand and tell their story. I didn’t hear any of it, just watched as Violet cupped her hands in front of her, nodding and cheeks flushing with emotion as the next speaker regaled their story. How could she still get emotional, the pamphlet my doctor handed me said these meetings had been going on for a few months. Hearing sad story after sad story every week, how was there anything new to tear up about. Time ticked by as each member shared their weekly updates or rumors of new medical technology. I wanted to leave, to be back in my apartment; under a mountain of blankets, eating mac&cheese, bingeing some by the numbers drama. This was just a painful reminder of reality, that we’re born and if we’re lucky we make it to adulthood before we really start experiencing pain, the realization that we’re not indestructible. When would this be over.

My mind drew back into focus as everyone began to shuffle out of their seats and mass around the refreshments and free donuts. I followed suit, grabbing a cup of off brand Joe, I distanced myself from the others a bit. Hiding behind my cup, I watch everyone talk and exchange New Year’s greetings, the energy of the small crowd was still low. I couldn't tell if everyone was just tired from the holidays or just tired in general. Despite the low energy, Violet mingles with them all, grinning all the while, till she catches me watching her and begins to walk over. My fingernails dig into the foam cup as I hold her gaze and do my best to put on a smile, all the while I feel my blood turning hot.

“Howdy,” Violet says, leaning against the wall and focusing on me.

The room now seems very quiet, like everyone had disappeared, or I’d disappeared – I felt like I could if I kept staring at her - too much eye contact. I break myself from looking at her and focus on the window behind her, it looks freezing outside, like if I stepped any closer to the window I’d have to zip up my coat. But there she leaned, her sweater falling off one shoulder, exposing its paleness to the cold glass. She didn’t seem bothered by it.

I looked back at her, “Hi.”

“Not much for conversation are you?” Her tone was a little teasing, “Did you enjoy the group session today?”

“I like conversation, just get lost in thought sometimes.” She tilts her head, waiting. I huff, “It was decent, cathartic even. Reassuring to know we’re all searching for something the cancer took from us, fighting to take it back.”

She nodded, but her pink painted lips stayed shut. Those purple eyes of her focused on me like daggers though, even under the fluorescent lights I could see them staring straight into me. I wonder if they’re contacts, they have to be, with those silver strands in her hair she probably used to be some kind of goth in her teens and the wild colors still lay claim to her body. They didn’t look like contacts though, her whole stance seemed authentic.

I wanted to break the silence, “So what got you into wanting to start this group?”

She shrugs, “After my last round of chemo and my operation, I didn’t know what to do with my clean bill of health. I’d spent years battling this monster inside me and suddenly it was gone. I wasn’t going to die after all, but I’d forgotten how to live, well - live normally - for myself not just my body. I was so happy to be alive, but something seemed to be missing, my goals before didn’t seem to fit. So I wanted to see if I could help, put back in some energy, in the people who are walking through the same rough path I did. Seeing them get better, or at least face the end with dignity, it’s – it feels like I’m making use of my still being here.”

I nodded in mock understanding, I wished I could relate to what she was saying; with my clean bill of health just came this feeling of a flat and toneless - oh. I’d accepted that I was going to die, that I’d run out of luck, and hope, of even caring that I would die in my thirties – I’d given up and made peace with the fact that I’d given up. Then God or the universe came and smacked the cancer right out of my brain, a miracle, a one in a million miracle. I didn’t deserve miracles.

I pointed my thumb back at the people still huddled around the donuts and coffee, “C’mon, they’re not exactly the most enthusiastic looking bunch. I just got here and I can see how much you care, but do they even?”

Violet’s eyes narrowed a bit but her smile stayed pleasant, “You should know as well as anyone here what it’s like to be given such a death sentence. Half the people here are either eyeballs deep in debt and chemo, or have the remission failure boogey man floating over their minds all day. Putting on a smile doesn’t matter to me, they showed up, they care.”

I didn’t care, being here was just like being anywhere, pointless… seemingly pointless, “We’re practically a bunch of half dead zombies now, not knowing how to deal with the fact that we’re actually still alive,” I say, sipping my coffee, I realize I am being cold, I wish the strength of the Joe could kick me back into some semblance of politeness.

Violet’s eyes widen and seem to gleam, the light purple of her eyes turning darker as she puts a hand on my shoulder, “That’s a decent description, but you’re my zombies. And I’m not giving up on us finding meaning in life again, or fighting till the end.”

I give a nod, holding the hot coffee in my mouth to keep myself from speaking. My tongue begins to burn as Violet gives my shoulder a squeeze before letting go and walking over to the coffee table. Swallowing and watching her go, I wonder if maybe this was why my doctors had suggested coming here, though I don’t think I’d found the life-renewing factor they’d hoped I’d latch onto. I didn’t care for the group, the talking, the coffee was too sweet, but those purple eyes – I felt myself get lost in them.