Abby Grant Quotes in Five Feet Apart
It’s not like I don’t want to go. It’s just, quite literally, a matter of life or death. I can’t go off to Cabo, or anywhere for that matter, and risk not coming back. I can’t do that to my parents. Not now.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hearing the familiar wheeze of my lungs trying desperately to fill with air through the sea of mucus. Exhaling slowly, I slap a big Hallmark-greeting-card smile on my face before opening my eyes and pressing the enter key to go live.
Lying back, I pick up the worn panda resting on my pillows and wrap my arms tightly around him. Patches, my sister, Abby, named him. And what a fitting name that became. The years of coming in and out of the hospital with me have certainly taken their toll on him.
He stops, leg floating off the edge. One more step and he would have fallen. One more step and he would have…
“You ever think about, I don’t know…traveling the world or something?” I look back down to see number 27, “Sistine Chapel with Abby.” No line through it.
Even before they knew me, they did their very best to help me feel like Saint Grace’s Hospital was my second home from the moment I got there. But, of everyone, it was Abby who really did that. She gave me three invaluable gifts that day.
A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.
I see Abby, right there in front of me, blurry at first and then as clear as day. My dad’s curly hair, and her larger-than-life smile, and her hazel eyes identical to my own.
“…more…time…”
She’s pushing me away from the light.
Stella’s been taking care of all of us. Her mom, her dad, me. I keep counting down to eighteen, to being an adult, holding the reins. Maybe it’s time I actually acted like it.
I think about that very last breath. Sucking for air. Pulling and pulling and getting nothing. I think about my chest muscles ripping and burning, absolutely useless. No air. No nothing. Just black.
“She’d make a wish and she’d never, ever tell me what it was. She used to joke that if she said it out loud, it would never come true.” The tiny pinpoints of light twinkle in the distance, calling out to me, as if Abby is out there now. “But I knew. She wished for new lungs for me.”
“I never even hugged him. Never. Don’t touch! Don’t stand too close. Don’t, don’t, don’t!” I scream out, hysterical, coughing, dizzy. “He was my best friend and I never hugged him.” And I never will. The feeling is so horribly familiar, I can’t stand it.
I take a deep breath, letting out a relieved sigh that I’ve been holding for more than a year now. My chest heaves suddenly, and I begin to cough, water pouring out of my mouth.
Abby Grant Quotes in Five Feet Apart
It’s not like I don’t want to go. It’s just, quite literally, a matter of life or death. I can’t go off to Cabo, or anywhere for that matter, and risk not coming back. I can’t do that to my parents. Not now.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hearing the familiar wheeze of my lungs trying desperately to fill with air through the sea of mucus. Exhaling slowly, I slap a big Hallmark-greeting-card smile on my face before opening my eyes and pressing the enter key to go live.
Lying back, I pick up the worn panda resting on my pillows and wrap my arms tightly around him. Patches, my sister, Abby, named him. And what a fitting name that became. The years of coming in and out of the hospital with me have certainly taken their toll on him.
He stops, leg floating off the edge. One more step and he would have fallen. One more step and he would have…
“You ever think about, I don’t know…traveling the world or something?” I look back down to see number 27, “Sistine Chapel with Abby.” No line through it.
Even before they knew me, they did their very best to help me feel like Saint Grace’s Hospital was my second home from the moment I got there. But, of everyone, it was Abby who really did that. She gave me three invaluable gifts that day.
A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.
I see Abby, right there in front of me, blurry at first and then as clear as day. My dad’s curly hair, and her larger-than-life smile, and her hazel eyes identical to my own.
“…more…time…”
She’s pushing me away from the light.
Stella’s been taking care of all of us. Her mom, her dad, me. I keep counting down to eighteen, to being an adult, holding the reins. Maybe it’s time I actually acted like it.
I think about that very last breath. Sucking for air. Pulling and pulling and getting nothing. I think about my chest muscles ripping and burning, absolutely useless. No air. No nothing. Just black.
“She’d make a wish and she’d never, ever tell me what it was. She used to joke that if she said it out loud, it would never come true.” The tiny pinpoints of light twinkle in the distance, calling out to me, as if Abby is out there now. “But I knew. She wished for new lungs for me.”
“I never even hugged him. Never. Don’t touch! Don’t stand too close. Don’t, don’t, don’t!” I scream out, hysterical, coughing, dizzy. “He was my best friend and I never hugged him.” And I never will. The feeling is so horribly familiar, I can’t stand it.
I take a deep breath, letting out a relieved sigh that I’ve been holding for more than a year now. My chest heaves suddenly, and I begin to cough, water pouring out of my mouth.
