Sincerely, Emily ✓

17 • Melancholia

WHERE ARE WE GOING? I wondered.

Half an hour ago, the Grants convinced me to come with them to some "special place" that I didn't know about. Mom gave me the thumbs-up as I looked at her anxiously through the window of the car. She didn't want to come, saying she had a stomach ache or something. 

Yeah, right.

One car couldn't fit the whole family (plus me) so Tom, Jessie and Mrs. Grant left with Mr. Grant, while Oliver, Jake and I went with Raph.

I was glad Raph wasn't weird around me anymore. He felt guilty because he thought he "abandoned" me, but I told him it was alright and that I didn't mind. I was proud of him getting in, and he said his classes were pretty great so far. I just wanted him to be happy.

Even if I couldn't.

Anyway, it appeared that everyone but me knew where the destination was, and I hated being out of the loop. Throughout the car ride, they talked about Andre, who I almost forgot was actually the eldest Grant sibling — not Raph. He was coming back from college, and since he already got his own apartment and stuff, he hadn't been visiting the family a lot. Soon, though, he'd come back and stay for a few weeks.

When the car finally stopped, I was more confused than ever. We arrived in a parking lot that looked like it was put in randomly — a public parking lot that was near shops and restaurants. The only thing that caught my eye, however, was the Ship Canal Bridge. 

Honestly, I thought it was the most impressive out of all bridges in Seattle. It was a double-deck, steel-truss bridge, and even though it caused a lot of heavy traffic on both upper and lower decks, it still carried this energy that proved the whole city was alive. 

The scenery wasn't that bad here, either; there were trees outlining both districts that the bridge connected — Capitol Hill and University District — and that was a refreshing view, knowing that the city wasn't always a city. They also had these little boats floating under and around the bridge, and I've always wanted to get on one.

To my surprise, the Grants began walking towards the bridge. Were we going to walk the whole way? I resisted the urge to snort. Of course not. If we did, though, I wouldn't mind. I was just worried about the person that was willing to push my wheels.

When we were on the edge of the bridge, where we could see thousands of cars rushing past, Mr. and Mrs. Grant turned around and smiled at us. "We'll be waiting here, near the lower deck," Mr. Grant informed. "You guys have fun."

Apparently they all knew what he meant, because we began walking the other way, leaving them behind. Seriously, what was going on? Oliver was pushing my wheelchair and we passed pedestrians along the way. It was quite busy, I suppose — a sunny day of April, and people were enjoying the vibe as it lasted.

Even as the crowd seemed to be loud, I could still hear the mutterings from a few people who gave me sad looks.

"Oh, my. What happened to her?"

I have a dying disease.

"Poor thing. God bless her family."

Thanks.

"Shouldn't she be in the hospital?"

Glad you asked, stranger.

Due to my "slow progress," I didn't need to be admitted to the hospital just yet. I could still talk and move my hands — well, not for long, I'm guessing — but I wanted to live life as long as I could. Being in the hospital was like being stuck there forever; four white walls surrounding me, crushing me, never letting me go.