TIME
By the time I got back to the dorm, it was almost eleven. Daniela was sitting on the futon watching TV when I came in. She turned around and muted the TV.
“Where have you been?” she asked, concern tingeing her voice.
I shut the door separating the suite from the hallway. “What do you mean?”
“You didn’t return my calls. What happened?”
“Sorry, I dropped my phone and it broke,” I said weakly. “Can I sit down?”
She scooted over to make room for me on the futon, and I collapsed into it. “I broke up with Hunter today,” I said somberly.
“Why? What happened?”
I took a deep breath. “I went to the coffee shop to do some sketching and overheard these two girls talking about how one of their friends had seen Hunter and Ada together recently. The girl said they were going into the health center. I told you before that he’d gone totally missing since last week, and I didn’t know where he was so I didn’t know what to think.”
Daniela tilted her head to the side. “Okay, that sounds crazy. What did you do?”
“I was frustrated and left to get away from them. You know, I just don’t have the energy for gossip and everything. But sure enough, as I was walking by the health center guess who comes out?”
She recoiled. “Hunter?”
“And Ada.”
“No way. What did you say?”
I told her the story of how I’d confronted Hunter and the fight with Ada. She gasped as I related the details of the screaming match and the people who had stopped to watch. Remembering the experience made me feel queasy.
“And Hunter did nothing?” she asked when I was done.
“Not until Ada bumped me as she walked away. Then he said he wanted to talk to me, but he chased after her instead. Before that he seemed kind of not all there.”
“Wow. I didn’t think Ada was such a psycho. So what do you think was going on with him and Ada?”
“No idea. I went over to his place to wait for him so that we could talk, but he never showed up. My bus is leaving tomorrow and I couldn’t call him, so I left him a note.” I bit my lip in frustration. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, but now it was done. I’d be on my way to Indiana tomorrow morning and I’d probably never come back.
Just thinking about the fact that I would probably never see Hunter again brought fresh tears welling to my eyes.
Daniela’s eyes widened. “Wait, why does that mean you had to leave a note? I thought you were only going back to your Aunt’s for a break. Does this mean you’re not coming back?”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry Daniela. You’ve made this semester as good for me as you could; I couldn’t have asked for a better friend.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “—but I think I have to withdraw from the semester. With everything going on, the letter from Marco, me flunking all those exams, and this thing with Hunter . . . I—I don’t think I can stay here.”
She patted my hand to console me and gave me a tissue. I blew my nose into it.
“So what now?” she asked.
“I don’t know, I might take another semester off? Maybe take classes online when I feel ready? Obviously what’s happening right now isn’t working.”
“Do you think you’ll ever talk to Hunter? You know, to get closure? You guys were crazy about each other.”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what to think about Hunter anymore. Maybe he did something with Ada, maybe he didn’t, but it’s clear that he’s hiding something serious from me. I don’t know what he’s dealing with, but my mind is so messed up right now that I just can’t sort everything out. I wish we could have talked, but I couldn’t keep waiting for him.”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “You have to take care of yourself first. Even if Hunter has some stuff going on, he could have at least found some way to explain things.”
I nodded, wiping my nose. “Thanks Daniela . . . for everything.”
“Hey, don’t worry. You should get some rest for your trip tomorrow. I’ll see you off in the morning.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“Okay. Good night.”
I got up to go back to my room.
“Hey Lorrie?” she said. “Can I come visit you over Spring Break?”
I smiled, “Yeah, of course. I think Aunt Caroline would like to see you too.”
“Great!”
I went back into my room and started packing my clothes thinking that maybe this was a blessing in disguise. I’d be safe with Aunt Caroline and Uncle Stewart, and Daniela would be coming by to visit. Maybe all I needed was just some more time to sort myself out.
Chapter Twenty-seven
SECOND TRY
The bus station was depressing. Its concrete walls were painted a bland beige, and the mix of wood-panel benches and mustard-colored vinyl seats—that might have been modern in the eighties—looked like relics now. I had said my tearful goodbye to Daniela in the morning and caught a cab to the bus station.
I was sitting on the bench trying to keep my mind blank instead of wondering if Hunter had read the note I left him. At 8:30AM, half an hour before the bus was scheduled to leave, I heard an announcement crackling over the intercom.
“Attention please. Attention. The bus from Springfield to Indianapolis, traveling through Studsen is delayed due to a mechanical malfunction. The bus company is working to send a backup to our location, but expect a delay of three to four hours.”
A collective groan rose from the handful of people scattered around the station. God. What else was going to go wrong in my life? I slumped in my seat, feeling miserably defeated. Studsen was kind of in the middle of nowhere, and that was the only bus that came through the town.
I sat there for another few hours, frustrated. Another announcement over the intercom told us that it would be yet another “two to three” hours before the backup bus would be there to pick us up. I could feel the tears beginning to well up in my eyes again.
This is so stupid. Am I seriously going to cry over a late bus?
Taking a few deep, shaky breaths, I tried to calm myself down. It was going to be okay. The bus would come soon and then I’d be away from all this. Away from the gossip, the failed classes, and the dirty looks.
Away from Hunter, the one happy thing I found at Arrowhart.
What was Hunter doing now? Had he gone back to his place last night? Had he read my note? Was he looking for me to talk to me? I’d only left him that note because I didn’t think there’d be enough time in the morning to find him and talk. Now, it looked like I would be stuck in Studsen until the late afternoon at the earliest. Maybe it would give me an opportunity to talk to Hunter one last time. Maybe we could figure out where we went wrong.
Even though there were so many things in my life I could never get closure on, maybe my relationship with Hunter was something I still had a chance to understand. Daniela was right, it would be nice if I could have a second chance to talk to him, before I left Studsen for good. It sure as hell beat sitting in this bus station and thinking about what could have been.
I sat on the bench and stared out the window as a cab approached, dropping off a passenger at the station. As I watched the cab’s passenger get her luggage out of the trunk, I made my decision. I had to try to talk to Hunter. I had to know what had happened the past few days.
After leaving my luggage with the station attendant—who assured me it would get on the bus even if I wasn’t there—I ran out waving my arms and managed to get the cabbie’s attention. I got in and told the driver to take me to Hunter’s apartment.
I sat and watched Studsen fly past the window, hoping Hunter would be at his apartment this time. The cab arrived at its destination and I paid before hopping up the steps to Hunter’s unit. I took a deep breath and walked in.
The kittens greeted me like I still belonged there. Taylor and Bones ran up to me together and hopped up on their hind legs to paw at my shins. I gave them affe
ctionate pets and ran my fingers along the two tiny bodies. When I looked at the kitchen, I gasped. Good god, what happened here? The place was a mess. The cabinet next to the sink—or what was left of it—had a giant hole in the door, and one of the hinges had come off.
Had Hunter read my note and gotten angry enough to destroy his apartment?
An ill feeling settled in my gut. I called out Hunter’s name, hoping he might be in another room, but the apartment was silent. Frustration welled up inside me when I realized Hunter wasn’t home. I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing. I needed to find Hunter. Where could he be now?
After saying a last goodbye to the kittens, I walked out of the apartment. If he wasn’t home at this time of day, the gym was the next best bet. Maybe he was blowing off some steam. I decided to walk over there and check it out.
Ten minutes later I strode into the gym and was met by Kristy at the reception desk. I was surprised to find the normal frenetic commotion of the gym was subdued to almost nothing. It didn’t sound like there were more than a few people training today.
“Hey you,” she said, brightly. “How are the kittens?”
“Good,” I replied, barely keeping in check my anxiousness to find out about Hunter’s whereabouts. “They’re getting big fast.”
“I bet. Those little guys were so cute here in the gym. Seems like yesterday Hunter came in with that box.”
I smiled even though I was feeling more nauseous by the second. “Yeah. Is Hunter here?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. Didn’t he tell you? He has a fight right now.”
“A fight? Where?”
Her penciled-in eyebrows furrowed in thought. “The Squirrel, I think.”
“The Bearded Squirrel?”
She nodded. “Yeah, that one.”
“Was it scheduled?” I asked.
“No. Dan has the flu, so he had to cancel, and Hunter is filling in. I only have afternoon shift today, so I just heard about it from the guys.”
My head spun. What the hell was going on? “Oh. Do you know what time he’s fighting?”
She shrugged. “Usually they start these things in the afternoon on weekends, maybe at one? But they don’t always run on time. He’s probably fighting right now.”
Right now? From the condition of Hunter’s apartment, I was starting to get a very bad feeling about this fight that I couldn’t shake. I had to talk to Hunter right away. I borrowed the gym phone and called a cab. Ten minutes later, a cab came to pick me up. Fifteen minutes after that, I was at The Bearded Squirrel.
The bar was a little less crowded than last time, but the guitars of the hard rock music playing on the jukebox were still as loud as I remembered. Most of the tables at the front of the bar were empty, along with most of the stools. A poster on the wall next to the entrance advertised the fight of the day: Walter Morris vs Dan Evans. That was the guy Kristy had said Hunter was filling in for: Dan Evans. This was definitely the right spot.
There was a crowd gathered out back—just as there had been the last time I had seen Hunter fight. I walked to the crowd’s edge. People were standing shoulder to shoulder, making it hard to see the cage. There was an anxious tension in the air. Something wasn’t right.
“Dude, this guy’s taking a beating,” I heard a man say. “What did you say his name was?”
I turned to find the voice and located it a few feet away. The man was tall and wearing a white fraternity baseball cap backwards over his long brown hair.
“I didn’t,” the guy next to him replied. “But after this fight it won’t matter because nobody will be able to recognize him. Holy shit, his face! How can someone take so much punishment and not go down?”
Who were they talking about? I felt a sick dread beginning to coil in my stomach before I could even glimpse the ring. Desperate to see the fight, I eased around the crowd’s fringe, looking for a clear line of sight.
As I frantically shuffled around the crowd, I came across two girls huddled together. One girl with wavy blonde hair had her hand to her mouth, shocked.
“He looks like he’s dying out there,” she gasped.
Her friend, a straight-haired dirty blonde with a mousy face, rubbed her friend’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. It’s the last round. He’ll make it.”
“But just look at him!”
The dread that had formed in my stomach began to swallow my entire midsection. I needed to see Hunter right now. My palms were clammy and it felt like my chest was being crushed.
I left the two girls to themselves and hurried around to a gap that had been left in the crowd. A roar erupted as I got there and I had my first glimpse of the cage.
The men inside were wrestling with each other and pressed up against the side closest to where I stood. I didn’t recognize the guy with his back to me, but the face that popped up over his shoulder made my legs go soft. Even with his left eye swollen nearly shut and cuts on his cheekbones, I would recognize those dark gray irises and that mussed up brown hair anywhere.
It was Hunter.
A sharp pain knifed through my chest. He looked beyond exhausted. His chest heaved and his mouth hung wide open, gasping for breath. There was blood dripping down his face from one of the cuts on his right cheek and the bruise on his left eye was a stormy mix of gray and purple. It seemed to be getting darker and swelling bigger by the second.
A violent shiver ran through my body, and my mouth opened in horror. I’d never seen Hunter like this before. I’d never seen someone so broken.
Finally, the other fighter managed to push Hunter away. The two began circling each other again. Hunter’s hands were down by his stomach and his legs wobbled with the effort to remain standing. My heart squeezed in my throat as I watched him struggle.
Something was horribly wrong.
Chapter Twenty-eight
SECRET
Hunter
Three years ago
I’d always hated the doctor’s office. The chemical smell reminded me of the cleaner we used on the wrestling mats after practice. We used it for the same reason they used it in a hospital: to kill things. Sure, they were microscopic things, but still, it wasn’t a healthy smell.
I was just halfway through my freshman year at Arrowhart. I’d gotten a scholarship to be in the Reserve Officer Training Program—something I’d wanted to do ever since I met an Air Force recruiter in high school. I was going to be a pilot. I was going to fly. But first I had to get through this doctor’s visit.
I sat on the thin paper covering the exam table, nervously studying the the various anatomy charts posted on the walls as I waited for the doctor to come in. This particular visit was even worse because I had no idea what the fuck was wrong with me.
When I first came in, the doctor had been worried I might have a neurological issue. I’d been fighting and getting bumps and bruises my whole life, but this was different. This was my brain.
Just as I was about to get up and check on the doc, the door opened, and the doctor came in with his clipboard. I studied his expression, trying to get a read on what the news was, but he was poker-faced.
“Hello, Hunter,” the doctor said, carefully neutral. He was gray around the temples and wore silver-rimmed glasses. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” I answered. “Did you find out what’s wrong with me?”
Taking a seat on a stool by the counter, he double-checked the chart, flipping carefully through to the last page. Then he removed his glasses, placed them in his coat pocket, and looked at me. I swallowed and gritted my teeth but said nothing.
He paused for a moment to take a deep breath. “Looking at the MRI, we have all the data we need. It appears you have suffered exacerbations from a condition called relapsing-remitting multiple sclerosis, or RRMS.”
My pulse leaped and my stomach churned. Did he just say multiple sclerosis? I’d heard about the condition before but all I knew was it was a neurological condition and it wasn’t something to fuck with.
I exhaled heavily and looked back up at the doctor. “How did I get it?”
Growing up, there were always dirty syringes and used crack pipes littering the “home” I lived in. I didn’t remember ever touching them, but it couldn’t have helped to be around that.
The doctor shook his head, “You didn’t catch it from anyone else if that’s what you’re asking. MS isn’t contagious. As for the cause, even the best researchers don’t know yet.”
The doctor continued. “We found two lesions on your brain in the MRI. At this point it looks like it’s RRMS because you’ve recovered pretty well. You’re on the young side to be diagnosed with this, but at this point we’ve ruled out everything else.”
“So what happens now? You write me some drugs and it’s back to action, right?”
He looked at me seriously for a moment before continuing, “Not exactly. It’s not curable. But we can manage it with treatment. What you had recently was a flare-up, after the treatment starts your symptoms will likely get better; they might not even be noticeable. In between flare-ups you’ll likely only have minimal symptoms.”
“So, my vision will be a bit fuzzy but I’ll be okay?” I asked. That didn’t sound so bad. I could live with that. But a sinking sensation in my stomach told me that I wouldn’t get off the hook that easily.
He frowned. “The nature of the disease is that it’s progressive. It will gradually get worse and worse. You’ll lose your sense of touch first, then your sense of balance, then you might start losing control of your muscles. Eventually your brain stops telling your heart to beat, or your lungs to breathe. We can slow it down, but we can’t stop it.”
Growing up like I did, not much fazed me, but right now I could feel a cold sweat on my forehead and a helpless fury expanding in my chest. “How long have I got?”
He sighed. “Hard to say, but with proper management and modern treatment, some patients live full productive lives.”
“Some patients? What happens to the ones that don’t?”
“In the most severe cases, hospice care is required within a couple of years, maybe months.”
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