48 Hours

“Hello Mr. Miller, I regret to inform you, but your test came back positive. You… don’t have long to live. I suggest you get your affairs in order.”

Those are the words spoken by Dr. Anderson over the phone at 5:30am, this morning. I felt my heart stop,

“This can’t be happening…”

My vision went blurry, the sounds around me were muffled and faded out. I know I’ve been feeling a little under the weather lately, but this? It just can’t be. I hung up the phone before the doctor even managed to say anything else to me, I was in shock. I stare at my feet, my hands shaking. I don’t know what to do or who to call. Most would call family, mom, dad, their best friend. Unfortunately, I live alone, no friends, no family,.. well… Technically I do have friends and family, but we haven’t talked in ages.

“I can’t call them, I haven’t spoken to my mom since…”

I just sigh, me and my mom fell out, something stupid, we haven’t talked since. Me and everyone I know ended on bad terms. I sit on the couch for a few hours, just lost in thought. Every mistake, every embarrassing moment, every fight, everything I wish I had done any other way played in my head nonstop. Do I just… sit here? Do I just wait until it’s time? I didn’t even ask how long I had, I’m too scared to. Maybe a month? Days? Hours!? I’m an idiot, all alone, and going to face my final moments soon without a soul who’ll miss me.

I can’t help but glance at my phone. My home screen, my girlfriend. Well, ex. I didn’t even give a proper goodbye, we fought, she left, then I die. Even my love life sucks. As I look at my phone, my screen goes off, letting me stare at my own reflection, my own sad, lonely, reflection. No. This can’t be all. Am I really just going to sit here and watch myself rot away? I can’t. I don’t know how long I have left, but I don’t want to be an old memory, I don’t want the only time I’m with my mom again to be my funeral. I turn my phone back on and open the clock. I set a timer.

“48 hours… I don’t know how long I have left, but I’m going to spend the next two days fixing every relationship I’ve ruined. My friend, my mom, my girlfriend. I don’t want them to remember me as that guy they’re glad is gone.”

It’s currently 7:30am, I don’t know where to start, but I have to. I call into work and take the next two days off. I then go with the easiest fall out to fix, my best friend, Marc. We didn’t really fight, just kinda… drifted apart. In other words, I just stopped talking to him. We hung out less and less as I lost interest. I got a good job, met my girlfriend, I didn’t think he was that important in my new life. I saw after I lost him how much I missed hanging out and reminiscing about our highschool days. I was too prideful to reach back out to him though. I couldn’t admit that I missed him. Now, I don’t have anything to lose, so whatever. I send him a text, I want to meet at his favorite Cafe to talk. I sit back and hope he responds. While I wait, I try to plan out what to say, but my mind goes blank. What do I say to someone I erased from my life for not being ‘important enough’? I feel like I’m wasting my time waiting, but only an hour or two later, I get a text. Marc.

“Sure, 2 O’clock.”

That’s all it says, but it fills me with hope. I’m actually excited to see him again. I go into my bedroom and get dressed and freshen up for the day. I can’t waste 7 hours just waiting though, I want every meeting to be perfect.

I head to the store. I buy him a birthday gift, it passed recently. I got him a toy car. That might seem dumb, but when we were younger he was obsessed with them! He collected HUNDREDS of these little cars and had a whole wall full of them at his house. It makes me smile, thinking back to him raving over every new addition to his collection. I know he still has them, maybe it’ll be a cute call back? Or maybe he grew out of it and this just goes to show how little we’ve talked over the years.

I wander around, picking out a few I know he’d like. After that, I get in my car and head to the Cafe. It’s a nice little place, a few full tables and fresh baked goods on display.I walk in just at 2 O’clock, he’s already there. I forgot about how early he likes to be, he has a hard look on his face. I approach and sit with him at the table. Marc speaks first.

“So…You finally want to talk again. I was thinking you died or something.”

I chuckle nervously. I don’t know what to say, I don't want to tell him that I actually am. I don’t want to guilt trip him into forgiving me just because I’m dying. I sigh and just start talking.

“Marc, I… just wanted to catch up. And… tell you I’m… sorry.”

He looks a little shocked. I admit, I rarely apologize.

“I just wanted to tell you that you’re a great friend and… well… I miss you. I also brung something I think you might like.”

I smile a bit as I hand him the bag of small cars. Marc’s face lights up like he was a preteen again. He doesn’t even look mad, he laughs and happily takes them. He looks up at me with a smile and speaks.

“I’ve been waiting for you to pop back up, I thought you’d be too stubborn to say sorry though. I’ve missed you too. Hey… me and the other guys are going on a trip next week, you wanna join? I’m sure they’d like an apology for getting ghosted too. ”

I smile and agree, not sure if I’ll even be here to make it. We talk for a while, just about anything I’ve missed over all this time, and he looks through every car I brung him. Clearly he is still obsessed. We say our goodbyes and I feel way better seeing him again, even though it may be my last time.

Next, I call my mom, I can’t just talk to her over a text. She answers immediately, I knew she would. I’ve been the one not reaching out. I just ask if I can come over to talk and she eagerly agrees. I know she can’t wait to see me, it’s been a while. She still lives in my childhood home, only about an hour away. As I think about seeing her again, I start reminiscing. Before we stopped talking, everytime I came over she would make the same sweet potato pie for me. It was my favorite since I was a child, I would help her cook it, mixing the filling. I haven’t had any since the last time we saw each other. Soon, I’m never going to taste it again, all because of a dumb argument and not going to see her.

I know she’ll make me one, but I decide to surprise her. I go to my kitchen and gather all the ingredients. I’ve never been much of a baker, but this may be my last time to try, so what the heck? I start to make the crust from scratch, just like my mom used to, though she was much better at it. I remember to dice the butter then mix it into the flour and sugar. I add the water and mix it with the spatula until it all comes together. I pop it in the fridge to chill, that part was easier than I expected, now to move on to the filling. I put the sweet potatoes in a boiler and let them cook until they’re softer. I’m not sure if I cooked it long enough, but it should be fine. I don’t remember if she peels them, so I just drop them in the bowl and mash them. I add the butter then sugar, milk, eggs, and all the spices. I mix it up as best as I can and pull out the pie crust from the refrigerator. I roll it out and pour the filling in. It goes in the oven and sit back on my couch while it bakes.

That took almost 4 hours! I can’t believe she took all that time just for a pie every single time I came to visit, AND when I was a kid. I think I really took it for granted all these years. When the pie finishes, it’s 8:00pm. I grab the pie and head to my car. It looks… ok. Nothing like mom’s, but I think she’ll appreciate the gesture. I start the drive and get there at 9:00pm exactly. I take a deep breath, holding the pie in my hands. There’s so many memories here, I learned how to ride a bike here, this is where I took my first steps, this is my first ever home. I knock on the door and she answers. She has a soft smile, dressed in a cozy sweater, and her round glasses on. I smile back and hold out my sloppy looking pie. Of course, as any mother would, she smiles and acts like it’s the best she’s ever seen.

I walk in and set it next to her’s on the table, I can’t wait for a slice of that one. We sit at the kitchen table as she talks to me like I was here just yesterday.

“How’s work, sweetheart? I know you’ve been keeping yourself busy.”

She says as she cuts me a slice of her pie and herself a slice of mine. Honestly, I wouldn’t eat the one I made.

“Yeah, mom, I’ve been doing well. Just… yeah… keeping busy. ”

I try to keep my short time left here a secret, but she’s my mom. She knows something’s wrong. She walks over with a soft look in her eyes. She places a hand on my arm.

“Is something bothering you? I know it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, but you’re still my baby boy. You can tell me anything.”

I can't, I can’t tell her. I burst into tears right there, sobbing like I was just a kid again. She doesn’t pressure me to speak, she just hugs me. She comforts me while I hold her and cry into her shoulder. I speak through sobs, my words barely coherent through my tears.

“I miss you. I’m so sorry, mom. I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I ignored your calls, I’m just… I got distracted, I thought I was going up too fast, I put my work and myself first. I don’t know how much longer I have with you and I almost threw it away.”

She gives me a comforting smile and reassures me.

“I’m still right here. The past has gone and we have so many more years ahead of us, let’s not waste them.”

That’s all, no anger, no disappointment, she’s just happy I’m back. I smile back at her, still not having the heart to tell her. We hug for a while and enjoy our pies. We talk and catch back up. She spits out an egg shell from out of my pie, we laugh about it together. Her sweet potato pie on the other hand is just as I remember, nostalgic and absolutely delicious. I stay the night, spending every last hour with her, then sleeping in my old room. Old posters of bands I barely even knew still hung up on the walls.

The next morning, I wake up at 10:00am. 21 hours left. Mom makes breakfast, giving me another slice of pie with it. I take my time as I eat, I want to spend as much time here as I can before I move on to the last step of my 48 hours.

I finally say my goodbyes, leaving with a big hug, at 12:00pm. Now,... I have to talk to my ex. Our relationship ended… kind of rough. We got in a fight about me not giving her enough attention. I wasn’t. Again with me putting work first, thinking it was the most important thing ever. I call her a few times, but it goes straight to voicemail, as expected. I don’t know what to do, I can’ call her, I can’t text her… so I go to her house. I make the drive back home and stop on the way to buy her a bouquet, big, beautiful roses, her favorite flower. I grab some chocolate and small gifts. I hope she likes them. I freshen up again and rush to her house. I knock on the door and she opens it. She’s just as beautiful as I remember.

I put my foot in the door as she tries to slam it in my face.

“Wait! Sarah… please.”

She gives me a nasty glare before sighing and crossing her arms.

“What? You think a few gifts and I’ll give you a second chance? You think that’s gonna make up for everything?”

I look down. I know it won’t be that easy, but this is my last chance.

“Sarah… I’m sorry. I’m… really so sorry. I know I was a terrible boyfriend and you were, no, ARE the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ve spent the last hours rethinking my entire life and I mean it. I took you and so many other things for granted. So many things that were great and irreplaceable, people I didn’t deserve and you were one. I don’t know when my life will end and I can’t keep spending it on work and making money. I need you too, Sarah. PLease… if anything, give me another chance?”

She stands there speechless for a moment, again, I rarely apologize. She thinks it over for a bit then speaks.

“Look… I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I can tell… you meant that. I’m not going to just take you back, but… maybe we can go for coffee tomorrow?”

She gives me a sweet smile and I hand her the flowers and gifts.

“I’d love to… See you then.”

I don’t know if I’ll be here tomorrow, but I’m glad she doesn’t hate me. I head home, it’s only 3pm. I spend the rest of the day texting and calling people I haven't spoken to in forever. My old friend group, coworkers I usd to ignore, anyone. I go to sleep happy, content.

The next morning, at 4:30am, I wake up and just sit on my couch. 1 hour left. This was easier than I expected. Everyone I thought hated me, all my stubbornness,... it was all my own doing. All I had to do was reach out. It’s nice to know I still have them, but sad to not know for how long.

I watch the clock, feeling like I’ve done enough. Then, at exactly 5:30am again, as if he knew, Dr. Anderson calls again. I pick up.

“Hello? Mr. Miller? I’ve made a terrible mistake! Two days ago, I meant to call CHARLES Miller, not Charlie Miller. Disregard my previous message, sorry for any worry I’ve caused you.”

I hang up and sit there in shock… He called the wrong number… I’m fine. In a way, I’m lucky he made a mistake, otherwise I would have never fixed my life… Though I do feel a little bad for whoever ‘Charles’ is.