Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 594(@200wpm)___ 475(@250wpm)___ 396(@300wpm)
Palmer sighed. “I don’t know. I’m torn. What if it says I have a family and I meet them, only to die months later? Or what if it says I don’t have a family, and then I die knowing I’m alone?”
Kent reached for her hand. This had become common for them, him holding her hand. In the short time they’d known each other, he’d quickly become someone she could count on. He’d shown her what it meant to have someone who cared about her for no other reason than for who she was. She never thought she’d be excited to see someone every day, but Kent had changed that for her.
“You’re not alone,” he reminded her. “I’m here, and I’m going to be here whether you have a family waiting for you or not.”
Palmer glanced at the envelope, closed the journal, and slipped it into her bag. “Later,” she said. “I’ll open it later.”
After dinner, Kent insisted Palmer walk. He was afraid her hip would tighten up during their long flight and didn’t want her to be in pain.
“Do you think people know?”
“Know what?” he asked as he walked alongside her.
“That I’m dying?”
Kent shook his head. “How could they? It’s not like you’re wearing a shirt that says as much or have a beacon shining on you.”
“I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like people are staring.”
“Maybe they’re looking at me and thinking, ‘Wow, look at the beautiful woman by his side. He’s one lucky dude.’”
Palmer blushed. Kent was quick with compliments for her. It was something she secretly appreciated about him. If she felt down, she knew he’d pick her up with either a comment or a lingering look. At night, after he’d gone home, she’d lie in bed wondering what life would’ve been like if they’d dated. She was angry at his ex and everything she was putting Kent through. He had said very little about the situation, but Palmer suspected Kent held a lot of animosity toward her.
They finally sat down at their gate near the window, where Palmer could see the other planes taxiing and taking off. Kent took his phone out of his pocket. Curiosity got the best of Palmer, and she leaned in to see what he was doing.
“We need a name.”
“For what?” she asked.
“For our Instagram.” Kent looked at her and could see her confusion. “The barista at RoccoBean suggested we create an Instagram of our trip. She said to post pictures of the places we visit.”
“Who’s going to want to see photos?”
Kent shrugged. “Maybe us, in two months, when we’re eating tacos on the side of the road.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Palmer wasn’t convinced. She couldn’t imagine anyone caring about their photos.
Kent stood and matched his shoes up toe to toe with hers. He moved his phone up and down until he got the right angle and then took the photo. He sat back down and hid his phone from Palmer so she couldn’t see what he was typing out until he was ready, and then he showed her. It was a picture of their feet, with the caption “Our journey starts tonight.”
“Cute,” she said.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I do. I just don’t understand it.”
Kent spent the next however many minutes explaining Instagram, hashtags, followers, and what the heart meant. He told her how they could tag places they’d been, and sometimes people would reshare their images. Social media was lost on Palmer. She’d never jumped on the trend of having multiple accounts for her to post what she had for breakfast each day or how someone had upset her. She wasn’t one to air her dirty laundry. But if Kent wanted to chronicle their trip, she wouldn’t stop him. In the end, he would be the one with the memories. Maybe something like this would be therapeutic to him later on.
They stood, and Kent gathered their things when it was time to board. He handed Palmer his phone for her to scan their tickets when they got to the front of the line. “I can’t believe we’re in first class,” she said to him as they moved forward.
“If all goes as planned, this is our first and only flight. I wanted to make it count.”
Palmer placed Kent’s phone down on the scanner, waited for the beep, and then did it again. They walked down the jet bridge and onto the plane and turned to the left. “This plane is huge,” she said over the roar of the engine.
“Yeah, one of those jumbo jets.”
They found their seats. Palmer sat next to the window and took her bag from Kent. He stowed their luggage in the overhead bin and then sat down with a contented sigh. “Do you want to take your pill?” he asked her.
She nodded. Palmer had yet to have a seizure, but Dr. Hughes said they were imminent. It would be extremely rare for someone with Palmer’s diagnosis to go through her remaining days without having one. At some point, they were going to be unpreventable. Kent and Palmer knew that day would be soon. In their meeting with Dr. Hughes, she had shown Kent the tumor and said it would grow until it took over Palmer’s brain and work into her nervous system. He needed to be prepared for everything coming Palmer’s way.