by Jolene Perry
Deena sits next to me. She puts her hand on my good shoulder and speaks barely above a whisper.
I’m still trying not to shake.
She tells me about Kate getting her diagnosis, and how she’s fought against it every step of the way. But Kate’s version of fighting is trying to ignore it, which has landed her in the ER more than once. Deena tells me about how Kate might be stuck here next year, and how her parents want her on an insulin pump. Why she should do it, and why she hates the idea so much.
“You can tell Kate I told you everything,” Deena says quietly. “I’ve never seen her fall for someone the way she’s fallen for you.”
I’m not sure if I’m happy about that, or if it makes me angrier.
“Thanks. For telling me, I mean.” I try a smile that I know completely fails.
“Sorry she’s so stubborn.” The corner of Deena’s mouth twitches in a partial smile.
I nod again because I’m still sort of in shock. I’m in the hospital. For Kate.
Her dad waves her mom inside. I’m still waiting with Deena, but now we sit in silence. I don’t have anything to say. Maybe one thing. “I like your sister way more than I expected to.”
Deena chuckles. “Kate’s funny that way.”
Funny. And now I’m starting to wonder—what the hell is she doing with me? A one-armed guy who has no idea what to do with his life, a crazy family life, and a past he doesn’t want to face.
At the same time—what the hell am I doing with her? She only tells me half-truths, and is just too young to be involved with someone who has my issues. Well, and she obviously doesn’t care about me knowing her.
I’m weak now. The adrenaline’s gone, and exhaustion is taking over. Kate’s mom steps out of her room, making eye contact with me, and holding the door open so I can step in.
No one speaks.
Maybe I look that pissed. Maybe I’m more afraid than I want to be and they can see it on my face. It doesn’t matter why we’re quiet.
Her dad steps out. Her mom gives me a weak smile.
I leap out of my chair and go into Kate’s room.
Kate’s in a hospital gown with an IV in her arm, and dark circles under her eyes. I want to cry, and punch my fist through something, and scream. But I stand at the foot of her bed. Still. And wait for her to talk.
21
Kate Walker
AIDEN’S FACE IS PALE. And he’s too still.
This is definitely not a good way for him to learn about my diabetes. I’m re-playing all the millions of times that I could have said something and didn’t. How much I like him, am starting to more than like him, and how I screwed this up so badly. I have to lighten this. Make him see that it’s not a huge deal.
“I know this is all very dramatic and whatever…” I roll my eyes.
“Don’t,” he says as his jaw clenches and his head starts to shake.
His breathing fills the room, and I’m terrified of what he’s going to say next.
“Don’t joke about this. I was scared as hell, Kate. I didn’t know what to do. It took everything I had to get you in my car.” He rubs his hand down his face, and I swear his chin pulls like mine does just before I cry.
He can’t cry. Aidan crying would be worse than either of my parents.
I’m so stupid. “I was pretty out of it,” I whisper. He did so well. I mean, I sort of remember him helping me into his car, and some yelling on the phone…
He does this way-too-slow breathe in. And then a breathe out. I know that if this were my dad, it would be a huge deal. “I don’t even mind that, Kate. If it helped you, I’d learn all about your diabetes, and what you needed or whatever. But you never gave me the chance. Hell, I might have known what better to do. Stick a candy in your mouth or made sure you got your food or something, but you never said anything.”
“I asked you this earlier. Wouldn’t you hide the loss of your arm if you could?”
“No!” He throws his arm in the air. “I wouldn’t. Because like it or not, it’s part of who I am now, just like whether you like it or not, being diabetic is part of who you are. And it’s something you should’ve trusted me with.”
I’m frantic now, but I’m stuck here with a needle in my arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for passing out on you like that, and—”
“Don’t you get it? It’s not about you passing out. You know me, Kate! And you never gave me the chance to know you!” Once again his breathing fills the room, and my heart starts to break at the knowledge that I made him feel this way.
I want him to know me. I just want him to like what he sees. There’s already so many annoying things—my blurts of honesty, my age, the fact that I still have to ask my parents if we want to go out…Maybe I was afraid that the diabetes would be too much.
“But I trust you, Aidan. I trusted that you could take care of me, and you got me here.” I’m trying to smile, but his scared, pale face is scaring me. Making my heart flutter, and my chest tight.
“Kate. That’s insane. You could have gone into a coma or something in the car. It was luck that got us here on time! And you don’t trust me or you would have said something forever ago!”
My chest sinks further. No, no. “But I—”
“No! I know plenty of people who are disfigured, hurt, killed, and you, by not doing everything you can to keep yourself healthy, are going to end up the same way. And when you’re ready to handle this for real, and take care of yourself, then we’ll talk about trust, but I can’t be around someone who lies to me and doesn’t care enough about themselves to stay on top of a disease like this.” His face has gone hard, and my heart’s starting to break. “You have a choice.”
“I’m so sorry.” My cheeks are wet, and I’m trying to smear my tears away, but there are too many. “I just don’t want this. It’s like if I can ignore it, or set it aside—”
“Deal with it! You’re in a fucking hospital. And from what I’ve learned from your sister, if you keep this up, this not maintaining or whatever, it could kill you.”
His eyes are hard on me.
I swallow a few times, trying to find the words to tell him that I want him to know me. Want him to be with me. Wish that he’d forgive me.
“Look around, Kate. You don’t need to be here.” His voice has turned this eerie fake calm. “I know plenty of people who died in circumstances out of their control. You’re making yourself a victim when you don’t need to.”
I have to downplay. He’s thinking it’s more serious than it is. “It’s not that dramatic, Aidan. I—”
“Grow up! It is that dramatic!” He turns toward the door. Away from me.
“Where are you going?” My voice barely works. He can’t leave. Not like this.
“Do you care? It seems like this,” he waves his arm between us, still not looking at me, “is something that would have made you and me closer. Showed that you wanted me to understand you, the way I felt you understood me. But you didn’t.”
“I do.” I’m not even trying to wipe my tears anymore.
“I’ll see you, Kate.” He glances over at me for the briefest moment before walking out of my room.
I lie back in bed and my body starts to shake in sobs. There’s shuffling, and people moving in or out, but I can’t see, don’t care.
Aidan’s words hit hard. I didn’t want this life so I didn’t see how stupid I was being. I didn’t take anything as seriously as I should have. I could go blind. I could die. Die.
How did I not get how serious my diabetes is until now?
Aidan was right about a lot of things. How stupid I’m being is probably the most important.
It’s like all the pieces of my diabetes were strewn about in my mind, and now they’ve formed this diabetic house or something. This place that belongs to me whether I want it to or not, but it doesn’t have to be a run-down old shack, it can be whatever kind of house I make it. Mine needs to be simple. And clean. And well taken care of.
I’m not even
making sense to myself.
Deena climbs into bed with me. “I can’t believe how he talked to you. I bet the whole hospital could hear.”
Dad swallows and stares at the ceiling, blinking like he’s trying not to cry, but his jaw is also clenched in anger. Maybe it’s a good thing Aidan didn’t stick around.
“He was right.” I choke on the words as they come up. “I didn’t want it to feel that way, but he’s right.”
Dad’s eyes meet mine, and they look hopeful. Worried, like almost always, but hopeful.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t get it. I mean, I sort of got it, but not really. Not the way I should have.” I wipe more tears.
Dad’s legs buckle and he drops to sitting.
“I need to find people my age, you know, who have this too. And maybe if you think it would be good, I could try the insulin pump. For a while.” Tears still pour down my face, but I can’t stop them, and I’m afraid I’ll start sobbing if I try, so I let them flow, and keep using my wet palms to wipe my cheeks.
Dad blinks a few times and tears escape. Mom’s hands squeeze my feet and she’s doing the weird chin frowny thing she does when
we see the doctor, only I don’t mind it as much as I used to.
“Proud of you, sis.”
I lean against Deena and close my eyes, feeling completely drained.
My sister rolls onto her back. “Oh!” she squeals clutching her stomach.
“What?” I turn to face her.
“The baby moved!” Her eyes are as big as her smile.
“Really?” It hits me. My sister is having a baby. My sister. A baby!
“I’m going to be an aunt.” I grin.
“Yeah, stupid.” She giggles—so Deena—and it’s this little bit of something really happy, and really kind of normal, but amazing, that pulls the room back into focus.
“Wow.” I rest my hands on top of hers, which still clutch her stomach.
How did I not understand my diabetes, my sister’s baby…I have this family who’s all in here with me. Worried about me.
And for the first time since I was diagnosed, I think maybe, one day, I might be okay with it—with this little diabetic house I’ve built in my brain. I’m going to have to think about a way to make Aidan understand. It feels like I have to.
“Quite a group in here.” The blond woman doctor who’s been checking on me steps into the room.
All eyes are on her.
“We’re going to watch you for another hour or two, and if you’re still stable, we’ll let you go home.” She smiles. “I know you’ve wanted to go home since getting here.”
“Yep.” I sit up a little, more shaky from emotion than anything else.
“Are you sure?” Dad asks the doctor. A breath out—an uncertain one.
“You’re a doctor.” She turns toward Dad. “Keep her within sight or sound for twenty-four hours or so. She’s fine.”
“Not thirty-six?”
I hold back my eye roll and Deena chuckles next to me. “Let him negotiate,” she whispers.
“I was being pretty conservative with twenty-four hours.” The doctor winks at me. “And Dr. Masen said he’d like to see her in the office sometime over the next week. And maybe…” Her eyes float back to me. “I’ll see you there, Kate.”
“Thank you.” I’m so ready to be out of this horrible gown and away from the memory of Aidan yelling at me in this room.
So, one part of my life is slowly being built. This diabetic part. Really, put together for the first time, since I never really did or thought about my disease the way I should have a long time ago. The other part, the part with Aidan that was my perfect escape, and the part that I thought was going so well…that I’m going to have to try to put together again. Somehow. As soon as my house arrest is over.
22
Aidan Connelly
EVERYTHING ABOUT THE SITUATION is fucked up.
I care about her enough that I was terrified and angry I couldn’t help. She was just supposed to be a distraction. How did she get to be so much more?
I can’t believe how I yelled at her, but she sat there in a hospital gown, with a needle in her arm, and tried to blow it off.
And then all the shit that scares me about only having one arm—not being able to do the really important stuff—that was thrown back in my face with her near pass out. I can’t take care of someone else. I won’t be able to do anything when it really counts. There may be a million things I can do, but there are a million more things I can’t.
I pull off the highway and end up in Pilot’s neighborhood, but drive through knowing I’m too chickenshit to stop. Again.
Something’s gotta give here, because I’m pretty sure I’m about to explode.
I’m on my back, on the mat, completely at the mercy of Bradley, his huge muscled arms trying to keep my useless shoulder from completely seizing up. I’m now wondering how long I’ll have to keep coming in to see this guy. I probably don’t want to know.
“So, Aidan. How’s things?”
“That’s a loaded question.” I wince as his hands push my shoulder blade to the mat.
“Why’s that?” he asks and he presses down on my chest and pulls up on the outer part of my shoulder.
“Because I’m pretty sure it all just blew to hell.”
He chuckles. “Well, the good thing about times like that is you know it ain’t gonna get any worse. Just better.”
“I don’t know. I thought that this morning.”
“And then it got worse?” he asks.
I don’t speak.
“You seeing your shrink?” Bradley smirks. He knows how much I hate that guy.
“I walked out early last time and haven’t gone back.”
“You feel better or worse?”
“Better about not seeing him, worse because life got messed up again.”
“What’s different?” He motions for me to flip to my stomach and I do.
Suddenly I find myself telling him about Kate, and then about meeting up with Roberts, and how we didn’t argue about where to sleep, and how he had to put my phone back together for me. How I walked away. How I keep driving through Melinda’s neighborhood without stopping in.
“You know what you need, Aidan?” Both his hands push down on my back and some of the tension in my shoulder actually loosens up.
“For you to climb off me?” I tease.
“A list.” He sits back. “You can sit. Take a break.”
I sit up and shift my head a few times because everything from my shoulders up feels weird when he’s done with me. “I have a list.”
“How far down the list are you?” He pulls his knees up and looks completely comfortable, like we’re just going to hang in here for a while.
I tense at how presumptuous it is, but then lean back on my arm. I got nowhere else to be.
“Maybe halfway.”
“What’s left?”
“I visited the counselor at the college, and I’m signed up this fall, but it feels unresolved because I’m not sure what to do with myself, you know?”
“Maybe you should think about what you might want to do for other people?”
“What do you mean?”
“Instead of thinking about what you want to do with you, why don’t you think about what you might want to do for someone else?”
“You don’t know me.” I shake my head.
“I know you a little. What about something you’d want to do that helps other people?”
Now that I think about it, his words half blow me over. What would I want to do for other people? I glance around the gym. This would be cool, but physical therapy is out—not just because of the one arm, but because hurting people every day isn’t high on my list.
I thought about teaching, but… I don’t know. “The guy at the college was pretty cool. The one who helped me with classes and stuff.” But I couldn’t do that. It feels huge. Grown up.
Bradley’s face breaks into a smile. “
I got a brother who does that. Guidance counselor.”
“I could do it with one arm.” I smirk. “But all the school…”
“What about helping at a high school instead of a college? You could still help with the JROTC maybe, and you could teach history—put all those hours in front of the History Channel to good use?”
I open my mouth to ask him how he knows about the History Channel, but then I remember I make him turn it on when I know I’m going to be here for a while. He came to the same conclusion I’ve thought about. Maybe it isn’t as far out of my reach as I thought.
I start to feel lighter, but think of the years of school, and shake my head. “I don’t know. It’ll take forever.”
Bradley laughs. “Aidan. All you got is time, man. You got money to pay you while going to college. Money for college. You got time.”
I’m still not sure. “It feels like doing nothing to me. Just going to school. Not real.”
“Aidan. You don’t have to be fighting a war to be doing something that counts. Think of college as your job for the next few years.” Bradley leans toward me a bit. “It’s your job.”
We sit in silence as my brain wraps around all this new information. “And if I decided I wanted to teach something else—”
“It wouldn’t be that big of a deal. You have a starting place now, right? And isn’t that what you needed to get motivated?” Bradley slugs my good shoulder as he stands up off the mat.
“It’s exactly what I needed.” And for the first time since I got home, I’m actually looking forward to starting classes. The problem is that I’m further down on my list, and I’m not sure I want to be. I don’t know if Kate’s on my list anymore, and that last item’s going to be a killer.
23
Kate Walker
WITH MY WHOLE TURNAROUND, and willingness to check blood sugar and eat a healthy lunch in front of mom, I’m allowed the car. For two hours. But my hands are sweaty and slip on the steering wheel, and my heart pounds so loud I can’t hear the engine. It’s been two days, four text messages, and countless phone calls—all with no reply. Now I’m going to drive up and probably make a fool out of myself.