It’s the alarm I hear every day waking me up at nine in the morning, sharp.  I suck in a deep breath, moving the blankets off of me.  I click the alarm off on my phone and begin to make my bed.  Fuzzy yellow polka dot blanket first, then the striped white and yellow one second.  The little sunshine pillows flanked the bigger pillow and the koala stuffed animal was right in the middle.  I grab my bullet journal, crossed off make bed, and then move down the list.

Check To-Do List

Make tomorrow's to-do list

Wash Face

Get dressed

Gather Medication

Head to Breakfast

They told me I didn’t have to eat breakfast in my room this time, even though I wanted to.  However, I promised my dad that I would go and eat in the cafe.

I didn’t need my bag just for half an hour of eating, so I left it on my bed.  I go to the bathroom and wash my face.  Cross it off my list. I take off my current shirt and pull on a pastel blue sweater.  Cross it off my list.  And I make it all the way to my door, and I push it open, and step into the hallway.

The nurse's station has two women there, and the hallway is pretty much empty.

“Morning June,” the one with her red hair up in a bun on top of her head, flashes me a smile.  

“Good morning. I was just wondering where the cafe is?” I ask, moving my fingers in a way to crack all the joints.  Before she can answer, a voice behind me speaks.

“Oh, I can show her!”  I turn my head to see a girl.  She is probably four inches taller than me, wearing a blue beanie with a cartoon smiley flower on it.  She is using a cane.  She has leukemia.  I don’t know when it started but going in and out of hospitals, you pick up a sense of people and what they’re in for.

“I’m Ryan,” she smiles and holds out her hand. I stare at it for a moment, before giving it a small shake with my own.

“Thank you, Ryan,” the redhead smiles and goes back to typing.  I take in a deep breath like I’ve practiced, as Ryan gestures her hand to the elevator in front of us.  I walk ahead of her and press the down button.  Ryan catches up to me, just as the door slide open, letting us enter.

“I never got your name,” she inserts into the silent air of the room, leaning over me to press the correct floor.

“Oh, it’s June,” I reply folding my arms over my chest.  Ryan gives a nod, leaning on the elevator wall.

“Yeah, so the cafeteria has a lot of food options you’ll love it,” she points out.  I just give a small nod, not really wanting to make conversation.  I just wanted to get my breakfast, go back to my room and continue on with my to-do list.  Ryan tilts her head at me like she’s trying to figure out what’s going on in my head.  Before she can ask anything--thankfully--the doors slide on open to the cafeteria.  There’s a semi-circle of restaurants like those food courts at the mall, but much more organized.  Booths scattered around the room, with curved couches more towards the corners with games for kids.  More secluded booths were lined up against the right wall, with walls dividing each booth for people or patients to work.  I had to admit this was the best hospital cafe I’d ever seen.

“Starbucks should be open, but then they have their own hospital food, which isn’t too bad.  There’s a Panera too, but they’re not open yet, and you can only get food there if the people know you well.  I mean the nurses don’t want us breaking any fancy diets we have,” Ryan jokes, heading towards the hospital’s little restaurant.  I follow behind her, hoping this doesn’t take too long and I can just leave.

There are a few options of food, and as Ryan orders what seems like her regular, I look over the menu.  They have yogurt parfaits, eggs with toast, pancakes, french toast sticks, waffles and bagels.  Ryan gestures me to move forward, and I take a few steps up.

“Um… can I just have a fruit cup please and yogurt?” I ask. The lady smiles at me, punching my order into the register.

“Okay and I’ll just need your hospital--” but before she can finish I already scanned my card.  She looks at me for a moment with almost pity--maybe a little bit of shock--in her eyes, before going to get my food from the cooler.  She sets the stuff down in front of me and I take it with a smile.

I turn to just leave and head back to my room when Ryan calls out my name.  I turn to see her waving her hands to beckon me over.  She has an excited look on her face--a bright smile that I don’t quite understand.  Who is so excited to have breakfast with a complete stranger in a place where everyone is dying?  I suck in a deep breath, not wanting to be rude and walk over to her.  I sit down, situating myself in the booth, while she talks.

“So June, what are you doing here?” she asks, taking a spoonful of her oatmeal.   My jaw tightens, and I don’t answer.  She gives me a half smile.

“Sorry, sorry, too deep of questions, we did just meet.  How about… what’s your favorite color?” she inquires.  I swallow the fruit I’m mid-eating and answer.

“Yellow.”  Ryan nods.

“It’s a good color.  I like dark blue.”  I just nod, really wanting to head back to my room.  I didn’t like to meet or talk with new people.  I just wanted to be out of this hospital and back into my own life.  With my own room and house and space.  I try not to think about it too much, cause the more I think about it the more my heart sinks, the more my brain starts to run rampant.

“You don’t talk much.  That’s a shame because I talk a lot, about everything,” Ryan teases, which does get a chuckle out of me.  She flashes me another smile.

“See, there you are!! Okay come on, I can’t just eat my oatmeal and not know who I’m talking to.  You could be a serial killer for all I know,” Ryan points out, waving her spoon at me.  I roll my eyes.

“Okay fine.  My favorite color is yellow.  My favorite animals are seahorses and dogs and I like photography.  You’re next,” I play along, and Ryan clears his throat.

“My name is Ryan Jones, my favorite color is dark blue, wolves are the best animals by far and I know everything about every musical ever.”  And the next hour goes on with banter back and forth, as I learn more about Ryan and I share more about myself.  And it’s nice.  And for once in a long while, I’m not worried about sharing things with Ryan.  I share the simple things.  Photography and why I like yellow--because it’s bright and fun and makes me feel safe--and how seahorses are the best.  And we laugh about the stories and memories she’s made in the hospital.  She tells me about all her siblings and how I just have to meet them and how we have to go shopping and how she would love to dye her hair every color if she had any.

As she’s talking and as I’m laughing, I don’t tell her much.  I don’t tell her about my best friend.  I don’t tell her about my mom or my dad.  I don’t tell her why I’m in the hospital.

I don’t tell her a lot.