Somebody to Love

**Peter's POV:**

I trotted slowly; it would be a miserable day. I was seething, but the weather was encouraging enough. It was a chilling morning; there had been a heavy downpour earlier, and the cold winter wind brought with it clouds so somber and rain so penetrating.

I knew all eyes were on me; everyone in the school already knew, I was quite popular.

The same question was on everybody's mind: Why was I in school today? I couldn't answer that either. I lost my mom yesterday. Every normal human being would have stayed at home today or at least been anywhere else but here. I wasn't normal then.

I walked slowly towards the class; I was a bit late, but I guess I could be pardoned for that.

My eyes were red, from a sleepless night, not tears. I hadn't been able to squeeze out a single tear. I was far too relieved to cry. She had been in the hospital for the past two weeks, feeling excruciating pain. I could see the pain in her eyes; she also wanted it to end. The pain was too much for her to bear.

She had become very lean and pale in the past few days. It was messing up my visual memories of her. I couldn't see past her pale face in my head, in contrast to her radiant and chubby healthy self. The cancer had eaten every bit of her and left her as an empty shell. It was such a depressing sight that would haunt me forever. I really loved her but didn't get the chance to bond with her. I was so busy living out school on a high. All I ever thought about was getting girls and winning the next football matches. I was a crucial member of the school football team, perhaps the best. My school's football team was one of the best in the district. Football matches meant a chance to win and get more love from girls from both our school and whichever school we were up against. I was mostly the star of the show, and I did savor those moments. It was always a thrill.

I tried to bond with her in the last few days. I skipped football practices and went directly to the hospital from school. I made little conversation and humored her. She found it difficult to talk, and it grew worse daily until she couldn't anymore. I watched her fade away on the hospital bed. It was such a horrible feeling to watch someone you love waste away while you could do nothing but stare.

A couple of my friends from the football team and my best friend, Ralph, visited often in the hospital. They always tried to cheer me up. Their gesture seemed sincere, but I would rather have them not visiting. There was an underlying feeling they came to see me at my most vulnerable state, to see if I had cracked under pressure. I always carried an air of supremacy around whenever I walked. They came to see if I still had that pride. Their visitation seemed sincere and was out of concern, but the feeling was still there.

The most depressing part was Dad not being with her in the hospital till she died. Dad always traveled for business; he was rarely around. I couldn't blame him for that; I was also busy maintaining a classic life. Him being a successful businessman was why I had so much access to money and maintained a classic Alpha male lifestyle.

He flew in from outside the country when he heard she had died. He cried bitterly while I watched in anger. I know he really loved her, and the feeling was obviously mutual. I thought it was enough reason to be at her bedside at her final moments.

She would have sought solace with both of us beside her to make up for the years of neglect which she never complained about. She was always quite content with seeing me happy from winning a match for the team or getting a girl I had been eyeing for so long, and my Dad from making a successful business trip. Neither of us noticed she was falling ill, which she kept to herself. I did notice she seemed weak and tired, but I assumed it was stress from taking care of the house. I didn't realize she was very sick until it was too late. She said the doctor told her her condition was very critical. She didn't want to bother or worry either of us and kept it to herself.

I know she didn't bother to tell us because neither of us ever showed any concern. I felt distraught at every thought of it. I knew why I didn't stay back at home; I was scared my guilt would eat me up in my silence. My monsters would use my idleness against me. I would hide among people where they couldn't haunt me.

I walked into the classroom; a teacher was already in class. It was the Biology Teacher, Mr. Whitehead; he seemed like a good man and a gentle soul, perhaps one of the class's favorite teachers. He seemed so loved for a number of reasons I was oblivious to, but I rarely paid attention in his class. I was a backbencher; I was either chatting with my friends or surfing through the media on my phone.