This could not be the present: A Narrative Writing by Estrella

I discreetly closed the door and tip-toed towards Quinn’s bedroom. I nervously glanced at her door, scared of how she would react to the gift I bought her. But I swallowed my fear and knocked on her door. After a few minutes of stillness, I raised my arm to knock once again and was met with an uncomfortable silence. I felt panic rise within me.

I quickly let go of the bag I was holding and sprinted towards the cabinet that held the keys. After a few furious minutes of combing through it, I found the keys and raced back towards the door. I fumbled with them until I finally got it in and pushed open the door. The sight in front of me was enough to make me drop dead - Quinn lay on the floor with white foam dribbling down her chin and in her hands lay a… prescribed drug, I felt my throat construct and eyes burn but I was already moving. I didn't have time to cry, not when my daughter was on the verge of death. I stumbled out of the room to get my phone and frantically called an ambulance.

The ambulance came not long after and quickly strapped Quinn to a stretcher and transported her inside the vehicle. They let me sit next to her after taking in my distressed state. I quietly sat there and took her slender hand in mine and took a deep breath.

Today was our day. We bought presents for each other every year on this day. This could not be the present this year. Quinn had her whole life planned out and this would change everything.

We made it to the hospital after what felt like an eternity and Quinn was quickly taken to surgery. I nervously bounced my leg while waiting for the doctor to come back with the results, and finally, the door opened. I leaped up to my feet and clasped my hands in front of my abdomen. It was hard to decipher the emotion on the doctor's face, but they slightly flinched at my hopeful expression. That’s when I knew my daughter did not make it, and the next words they said proved my point, “I’m sorry. She didn't make it.”

I felt my lips start to tremble as glistening tears obscured my vision. I tried to run toward the room but the doctor held me back. I tried to fight the sob that tried to escape me but it was useless. The doctor told me to come up to her after I felt better. Feel better? Does that mean this hollowness in my chest will ever go away? Will I forget about how my daughter's eyes light up every time she laughs or the sound of her voice?

If I thought I was broken then, nothing compared to what I felt now. Turns out my sweet little Quinn had a brain tumor. Those drugs were to reduce the migraines and the reason she never told me was because she knew we would never be able to afford it. With my job as a waiter in the cafe downtown, It would take us years to afford to pay for the medications, but Quinn should have known I would do everything in my power to keep her alive. Only if she were alive for me to tell her.

ESTRELLA