by Lucia Franco
Dr. Kozol reviewed the tests, then he got right to the point.
"Adrianna. Tell me what's been going on and don't leave a thing out."
I smiled and eyed the folder in his hand, then proceeded to tell him everything—how I’ve been feeling since I left his office a few weeks ago, how I threw up, how terrible my back has been, the headaches and chest pain, and the fatigue that made me feel like a ninety-year-old brittle woman. I told him I thought the medicine was giving me the shakes and I had nights when I slept like the dead and other nights where my eyes twitched from lack of sleep.
"I bet it's been a rough few weeks for you… A rough couple of months, hasn't it?"
I laughed lightly. "Yeah, you could say that."
"How are you handling everything?"
I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't talk about it. I just keep it to myself. It's easier that way."
His head angled to the side and he eyed me. "It's also very unhealthy to bottle your emotions in."
"I train close to fifty hours a week with tons of conditioning. It helps."
"Are you taking any other medications I'm not aware of? Any over-the-counter or prescriptions? Anti-inflammatory?"
I shook my head and explained I couldn't take them anymore due to my Achilles and the blading. He eyed my leg.
"You're almost seventeen and you're falling apart."
This time I let out a deep belly laugh. "Tell me about it," I said, and smiled.
Dr. Kozol placed the folder on the counter and then turned to wash his hands. "Right now, your immune system is weak, which means your body is a free-for-all. Not getting the proper rest your body needs will set you back, which it's clearly doing." He dried his hands off and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. "While there are preventative measures we can take to help reduce your flare ups and discomfort, ultimately, you'll need more intensive treatment. Your urine results show a slight increase in protein, but nothing I'm too concerned about yet." He pulled the stethoscope from around his neck and put the buds into his ears. "Take a deep breath." He moved the instrument. "Another," he said, listening to my chest. He pulled away and looked at me. "Lupus is a workaholic. It can cause headaches and weight loss, sometimes a low-grade fever. Joint pain. Pretty much what you’re experiencing now. But coupled with the kidney disease, I need to be aware of everything you're dealing with at all times. Even if you think it's small, it could mean more to me. I wish you'd contacted me earlier about the kidney infection. The ultrasound shows small stones, which is why you're experiencing the pain you are." He listened to my back. "Take a deep breath… Another… Another." He leaned in, his brows bunching together. "Do it one more time for me." He paused. "Again?"
"Kidney stones?" I replied quietly.
"They're small and easily passable, but large enough to cause pain. Manageable, too, so nothing to worry about. Up your water intake and I'll give you something for the pain that will help break them down."
Dr. Kozol pulled away and placed the stethoscope around his neck.
"Is something wrong?" I asked.
"You mentioned chest pain, which I'm sure at one point you probably figured was from overexerting yourself at practice." Of course I had. I nodded. "Lupus causes inflammation around your lungs, but right now, I can hear the faint sound of fluid grating around them."
My eyes widened. Kidney stones. More protein in my urine. Fluid in my lungs. This had to be a cruel joke. How many more shitty hands could I be dealt? Of course I'd get the highflyer of autoimmunes. That was just my life.
"I have pneumonia?"
"No. Sometimes fluid will build up between your lungs and your chest. It's called pleural effusion and typically goes away on its own."
I exhaled a heavy breath, feeling my heart picking up speed. I was panicking on the inside but trying to remain calm as Dr. Kozol continued to speak.
"It's not bad, but it's something we have to watch since I can hear it. We'll switch your medicine around and up your dose. At any time your chest hurts, you need to take a seat and breathe. You're pushing too hard, Adrianna. I'd order bed rest, but something tells me you wouldn’t take the advice."
"Why do I feel a but coming?" I said.
Dr. Kozol's lips flattened. He eyed me carefully, and I took a deep breath.
"Your father said you'll start dialysis after this gymnastics season is over. I'm highly against that, as you know. A waiver had to be signed saying you're forgoing recommended medical treatment. There's too much risk involved, especially since we haven't been able to find a donor match yet."
I perked up. "A donor match? Wait a minute. Who was tested?" I didn't know anything about that.
Dr. Kozol picked up my file and scanned a few papers. He looked at me. "Your brother and biological mother. Neither one was a match. Your father is expected to be tested soon."
Fourteen
I listened to my body—and doctor—and took one day off.
I'd called Kova after I left the doctor’s office and told him the tears were deeper but not completely torn. I’d also told him how my back was still hurting and I wanted to rest it. Much to my surprise, he was quick to oblige. He also said I only get one day and expected to see me first thing the following morning. I laughed. Typical Kova, but I was cool with that.
Since I had stayed home, I took one of the pain pills before I fell asleep. I woke up feeling so much better. It was like I had a brand new body and I loved it. I slept nearly the entire day, only waking up to eat and take my medicine before falling asleep again. I'd been exhausted, not realizing how badly my body needed the rest. It was a blessing in disguise, really, because it prevented me from overthinking the fact that I’d yet to find a match for a kidney.
I also took the time to write in the notebook Kova and I shared. I’d planned on rereading what I had written, along with Kova's responses, but decided I wouldn't. I didn't want to relive the past I held so much hostility for, and since we were in a fairly good place, I didn't see the point in welcoming those areas of negativity back into my life. All it would do is awaken old emotions I had put to rest. So I took the pages and bound them together tightly with packaging tape. They’d have to be cut along the seams in order to be read. Then I flipped to a new page and wrote him an honest note I'd give him the next day.
I wish I knew why I'm slowly giving you another chance and letting you back in. All I know is this hatred was hardening my heart and would continue to take up every last inch of space the longer I went on if I didn't let it go. I realized it's not healthy, and I can't afford anything less right now.
I don't think you're a bad person. I just think you made questionable choices with the intent of meaning well only for them to backfire on you. You're a double-edged sword.
I just wish I knew why I want to be around you all the time.
I wish I could understand why I look for you when I'm alone.
I can't explain this feeling in my heart that only you give me. I probably sound so stupid and young, but I don't feel this for anyone.
Please, I'm asking you to not ever hurt me again. That brokenness I lived through was caused by you, and yet you're the one who's slowly placing the pieces back where they belong. I know you're trying, but so am I.
I walked into the café room the following day and went straight to the refrigerator for the plastic bag I’d brought with me this morning. My lunch was safe for my kidneys, and I had packed wheatgrass juice to drink to help break down the kidney stones.
I sat down and untied the plastic bag then grimaced when I looked inside. My red apple tumbled out and onto the floor as I shoved the bag away in annoyance. I dropped my head into my hands. I didn't have an appetite. I didn't want to eat. And I most definitely wasn't in the mood for this food.
I lifted my head and shivered, then remembered Kova had a hoodie in his office. I also realized this was the perfect time to place the notebook in his desk under the guise of getting his jacket.
My bare feet were ice cold against the tile as I stood and
I reached for the hoodie on the back of his chair and slipped it on, then left his office.
"What are you doing in my husband's office?"
"Oh!" I jumped and grabbed my chest. "Katja. I didn't see you there. You startled me. Hi."
She tilted her head and wore a superior expression on her face I pretended not to notice. Her eyes raked down my body then back up to mine. "And why are you wearing his jacket?" She scowled.
My chin bobbed, unprepared for her brash tone. I looked down. This definitely didn't look good, but it didn't look bad either. I tried to think of something quick to defuse her attitude. Kova's jsah-hket, as Katja had pronounced it, was nearly down to my knees and keeping me warm. I wasn't taking it off just because she stood in front of me.
"Ah, I was just—"
"I see you located my sweater, Adrianna. Good."
My eyes widened and locked with Katja's. She straightened, her back stiff as a board and shoulders pushed back.
I looked past her to see Kova striding toward us. I was stuck in my stance when I caught the go-with-it stare in his eyes.
"I did. Thank you," I responded softly, unsure where this was going. He stopped when he reached his wife's side and placed his hand on her lower back.
"Allo, Katja." He didn't smile.
She openly glared at him. "Konstantin. Why is she wearing your clothes?" she asked, flipping up her palm, fingers pointing toward me like little sharp knives.
I looked at him, waiting to hear his response myself.
"Adrianna was not feeling well and said she was cold. She was ill a few days ago, so I told her to grab my sweater and take a rest in the therapy room."
Interesting.
"Why not send her home if she is sick?" she asked. Her voice was high and pitchy, and flat out annoying. "She will contaminate everyone else, including you. And you know I cannot get sick right now."
I wasn't a walking disease, for fuck’s sake.
Okay. Technically speaking I was, but they didn’t know that. And I wasn't contagious.
Kova cocked his head to the side. His expression, the look in his eyes, it screamed common sense. I chewed back my smirk and eyed the floor. I knew that look and I almost felt bad for her.
"We have a very important week ahead of us, which I have mentioned to you. She has no time to rest."
I looked back up as Katja placed her hand over her heart. The glittering diamond was bigger than her knuckle. I wanted to bend that finger backwards.
"But what about me? About what we talked about?"
"What about you?" he retorted.
She glanced at me with bitterness in her steel gaze. My brows angled toward each other with deep creases.
"This is not what we agreed upon," Katja said, then looked at me again like she was trying to say something without saying it. Her gaze followed mine and she noticed I was back to staring at her enormous wedding ring and band.
I quickly glanced away, but it was too late. It wasn't even that nice. Just a dumb circle and thin band.
The air between all three of us thickened to an awkward silence. I was the third wheel. Hitching my thumb up, I took one step backward and said, "I'm going to go rest now…"
They both looked at me. I turned away. Katja's glare left me with an unsettling feeling and I didn’t like it one bit.
"Ah, Adrianna?"
I stopped and looked over my shoulder. "Yes?"
"No more than an hour."
Damn it. "Yes, Coach."
I knew Kova was just trying to look out for me and I appreciated that, but Christ on a stick, I was going to die of hypothermia in the therapy room before kidney disease.
A little dramatic, but I really hated being cold. I despised it more than anything.
Curled up in a tight ball under Kova's jsah-hket, my teeth chattered while I counted down the seconds until my sentence was up. My toes were frozen solid and the only thing that gave me any kind of alleviation was the husky scent of Kova's smell imbedded into the fibers of his hoodie. I burrowed myself into his sweater.
I didn't last the full hour. Between the sterile room and the clipped Russian language that carried down the hall, I needed to get out of there and back into the gym.
I returned to the café to clean up what I'd left out on the table before making my way to the locker room. I took off Kova's sweater and folded it up, then placed it in my bag. There was no way I was knocking on his office door to return it now. Not since Kova and Katja had been going at it ever since they’d walked into his office. They seemed like they were at war with each other. At least that's what I’d gathered. Neither one was backing down. While Katja's voice rose and fell, Kova's stayed on the opposite spectrum.
I took a step to leave the locker room and hesitated at the sound of Kova's unrestrained voice. I held my breath and waited another beat longer until I thought the coast was clear.
I should've just hidden out.
A loud slap echoed down the hallway. I sucked in a breath and pressed my back to the wall, debating whether or not I should run for it. I assumed Kova had been slapped across the face. I didn't want to be there when it was all over.
Expelling a nervous breath, I made up my mind to run back into the gym when a shrill of Russian words sounded the same time the door flew open.
Jesus Christ, my heart. My back stiffened, feet rooted in place as Katja stormed out of the office. The door slammed into the wall behind her and bounced off. She halted to a standstill in her high heels when she saw me.
Our eyes locked. She looked downright murderous. My heart rate escalated to an unhealthy rate, pounding so viciously I could hear it in my ears. Her stunning, ethereal face contorted into a fury of abhorrence, twisting into something I never expected her to look like. She scowled down her nose at me before spewing something in Russian and marching off.
It all happened so fast.
I tried to replay the words in my head so I could look them up later, but my brain couldn't process them at the rate she had said them. Shed spoken too quickly. I don’t think she even took a breath. It was like one giant run-on squeaky Russian sentence.
I watched in silence as she stormed out of the building. A muffled sound behind me drew my attention, and I glanced over my shoulder.
Kova stood stretching his jaw, cupping one side while he rubbed it. I caught sight of the red handprint on his skin.
Our eyes met and I was caught off guard by his reaction. He looked…sad, and it confused me. I felt pity looking at him when he didn’t deserve pity.
Without thinking, I walked over to where he stood and gently dragged my knuckles down the side she’d slapped.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
His eyes softened. I thought he’d be angry that I heard and saw what I had, but he didn’t appear that way at all.
Kova reached for my hand, his warm fingers pressing into my cold palm. My stomach dipped as he pulled me closer until we were just a few inches apart. He looked deep into my eyes.
For a moment we were suspended in time, forgetting where we were or that anyone could see us. I took note that this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It’d been happening more so lately and neither one of us seemed to care. We were getting too comfortable and becoming reckless.
Kova brought my knuckles to his lips and gently kissed them. I swallowed hard, fighting to tear my gaze from his. My fingers curled around his before he dropped our hands.
“Trouble in paradise?” I asked, my tone good-natured.
And just like that, his shoulders relaxed and he fell into stride next to me.
; “I probably deserved it,” he said.
I nodded in agreement, and he chuckled.
Quietly, just for him to hear, I said, “I put the notebook in your desk under a bunch of green folders.”
I looked up waiting for him to respond. Instead, he dipped his head once and I caught the faintest hint of a smile.
“Kova?” I said as we rounded the corner.
“Hmm…”
“Why’d you lie for me?”
Kova paused at the door to the gym and angled his body toward me. "Sometimes, Adrianna, we do things not for ourselves, but out of need for others."
Fifteen
With wide eyes, I looked all around me. There were photographers everywhere and not an empty seat in the house. Chaos and coaches. Gymnasts and anxiety.
Kova squatted in front of me, the black material of his dress pants stretched over his knees. I looked at his opened palm.
"Give it to me," he insisted under his breath. I handed him my sports tape. "What is wrong with you? Why are your hands shaking?"
I glanced at my fingers. I'd been tempted a few times now to skip the medicine, but after being on it for a few weeks, I was too scared of the repercussions I'd face if I did. I didn't want to mess with it, but the trembling had gotten so bad over the last week and it was starting to drive me nuts. My entire body felt like it was on edge, uncontrollable shaking down to the bone. I learned it was a side effect of the steroids and there was nothing I could do about it unless I called my doctor and asked for something else. I hadn't. Instead, I attempted to adapt to it and tried to regulate it the best I could, balancing myself by taking deep breaths, and flexing my hands and making sure I kept moving.
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