The Other Half

 

 

As a child, I was taught the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.  What you see isn’t always what you get.

Jordan was barely fifteen when I noticed the change.  Her skin, becoming paler every time she walked through the duet doors of Carter Smith High School.  That smile that blessed her face, now permanently fixed horizontal.  Her eyes, no longer sparkling like stars currently filled with fire and hatred.  And people talk.  Talk about what they think they know and relaying what they hear.  The other half never knows.

Light chatter and secret messages shared in presence.  As if she couldn’t hear when she hesitantly placed one leg in front of the other.  Looks of sympathy darting her way striking like a bolt of lightning.  But no one seemed to notice when she immobilized the fork on the cafeteria tray.  Her weight waxing day by day.  Never enough energy to fulfill her days at a desk learning mc squared.  Slowly being denied the gift of life.  Jordan’s other half had not merely been the rumors of separation by two people that created her existence, but Cancer.  Which the popular girls, jocks, and teachers knew nothing of.  They were concerned with the hottest groups in the music industry, who to take to the prom and what color dye they should apply to their extensions.  Futile efforts of meaningless beauty.

Jordan failed to show up for school on Wednesday, first day of Spring.  Thursday and Friday failed to accompany us with her presence as well.  Making it easy for ruthless rumors to dwell.  Breaking under the pressure, I capture attention by shouting-

How dare you judge the other half, the 570,000 that lose the fight and can’t face another Spring.  Your mother, brother, sister, aunt or uncle amongst the 1,529,560 barely battling to keep their sanity.  13 million new cases a year.  Look around.  The reality is that 2 out of 5 of us will develop brain cancer.  Black, White, Asian, and Latino struggling against a disease that has no known cure.  Those rumors, you let slip through your lips about a girl who lived her life living, loving and laughing with every breath she took.  The same girl that tutored your precious quarter back after failing three classes.  Who stood by your side when that life you denied from your womb met its death by two pills and hit your conscious while salt trails and sharp pains show remnants of what had been.  The girl who gave you the answers to question 2, 7 and 9 because she knew how bad you needed a measly C to pass.  While you are planning that next chapter in your life, there is a family at home buying a coffin for their beloved daughter.  A child should never die before her parents.

As I stand here mourning a classmate who will never get to witness our success story, you fail to realize how blessed you are.  So when you walk down the steps through those duet doors, remember,

 The Other Half.