by Hotcheri
Just as the tips of my fingers connected with the evil ball, footsteps in the room made me freeze.
“There’s no money under there, I already checked,” an amused sounding voice said.
“I wasn’t looking for- I was just getting this ball for a kid- I’m sorry,” I blurted, my heart leaping into my chest. Just my luck! I wrapped my fingers around the ball, preparing to wriggle out from under the bed and face the music.
“CiCi?”
I froze again, frowning in the dark. Nobody ever called me CiCi, apart from-
“Luke?” I ventured hesitantly.
The bed above me squeaked as whoever was calling me CiCi threw themselves on it. An upside down face appeared over the side of the bed and for the millionth time that week (or so it seemed) I found myself staring into a pair of gorgeous emerald green eyes.
With a smile on his face like he was happy to see me, the tips of his shaggy dark brown hair almost brushing the floor, Luke quipped, “We really need to stop meeting like this.”
Luke’s Point of View
Being dropped off and picked up at the school entrance by my dad two days in a row wasn’t helping me win cool points with my friends.
I mean, sure, I was supposed to go for my tests yesterday, and I showed up at the front of the school like I was told cooperated with the doctor and I didn’t even cringe during any of the tests and x-rays and scans. That was good of me, right, since I could have just blown dad off if I really wanted to. But he really didn’t need to drop me off and pick me up today too! He claimed the doctor told him I needed one more test and I could collect my results at the same time, but I knew he was just trying to keep tabs on me. He didn’t trust me a bit, but these days, I really didn’t care.
When Ahmed spotted me heading to the entrance after school, he started taunting me as usual.
“Since when did you turn into a Daddy’s Boy, Astor? You gonna start hanging out with him so he can tell you the family secrets, Luke Astor Junior?” he asked, coming up behind me and punching me on the shoulder in greeting.
“It’s the Third, numb nuts,” I corrected, punching him back as Wendy slinked up beside me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “And I’d rather get a ride with my dad than go home in that bullet proof coffin of yours.” I grinned mischievously at him. “And why the hell do you need a bodyguard?”
If there was one thing that made Ahmed feel self-conscious, it was the fact that his ride came to pick him up with a bodyguard sitting in the front seat.
He glared at me, running a hand through his short cropped hair. “Coz-man, shut up!”
Wendy rolled her eyes. “Both of you shut up,” she said authoritatively and we all shut up. Wendy was scary like that. When she told you to do something, you did it or you got hurt. She held me tighter and batted her eyelashes at me. “Luke, baby, we haven’t had a chance to hang all week!” She pouted her thin lips at me. “You’re starting to get annoying.”
I shrugged, the simple movement causing a pounding to start in my temples. “I have to go to this stupid seminar,” I lied. “That’ll make my dad happy and then I’ll be all yours.” I hugged her, then looked over at Ahmed, who was slouching against the wall. “That’s if Ahmed doesn’t mind.”
He smirked. “You are so welcome to have her,” he said, shoving up the sleeve of his college shirt. “Look at this bruise! She was practicing her kick boxing moves on me.”
I laughed. “I might just take you up on that offer,” I joked.
“How many days is the seminar on for, anyway?” Ahmed demanded to know. I flushed slightly. I hated lying to my friends but I didn’t want to tell them about the headaches and my fears. They would label me a wimp, and I could do without that.
“It’s done today,” I said.
Ahmed snorted. “You must really want to make the old man happy,” he said.
I shook my head. “Nothing I could ever do would make him happy. So why try?” I said bitterly.
“You should just piss him off with everything you do,” Wendy suggested. “Get DUI’s, speeding tickets, you know, typical rich kid shit.” She gave a loud, malicious cackle. “He’ll go bananas.”
“Tried that,” I said, running a hand over my burning forehead and trying not to wince. Damn, it hurt. “It’s the reason this is happening.”
Shazia came up, her nose buried in a book. Seeing her reminded me that I still hadn’t apologized to Celsi. Maybe after I apologized, I’d feel better. Maybe I was a total moron for thinking that, but just thinking it made me feel a little bit better.
Ahmed cocked his head at her. “She’s the reason we have a bodyguard,” he said snidely. “My dad’s scared someone’s gonna kidnap her.”
“Hey Shazia,” I said.
She looked up at me, her eyes widened in surprise which quickly turned into distrust. Still, that didn’t stop her from mumbling, “Hi,” back to me.
Ahmed looked from me to her to me again, and then hit my shoulder again, not gently this time. “Dude. I told you not to hit on my sister,” he said. I didn’t know if he was being serious or not.
“What? I’m just being nice,” I protested. Wendy laughed, examining her neon yellow nails.
“You, nice?” She snorted. “Yeah right.”
“Well, none of you jerks said hi to her,” I said. Shazia shot me an inscrutable look.
“I don’t say hi,” Wendy said loftily.
“And I see her every day,” Ahmed said.
I rolled my eyes. “You guys are tools,” I muttered.
“And you’re going soft on us, Astor,” Ahmed crowed.
“Please,” I said, spotting my dad’s white limo pull up, blocking the school entrance, and not a moment too soon. “My rides here.” I held out my closed fist to Ahmed. “Pound it.” A teasing smirk on his face, he hit his fist against mine. “Later.”
Wendy gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Say hi to Daddy Dearest for me!” Ahmed shouted after me.
I flipped him off as I walked down the stairs to the limo, wondering again why I wasn’t just coming clean with my friends and telling them the truth- that I was heading to the hospital for an array of neurological tests because I was sure I had cancer. Even for me, seminar was a lame excuse. But I knew that they wouldn’t understand what I was going through, pain wise, and how scared I was that the tests would show something serious going on in my brain.
Wendy and Ahmed, while good friends, weren’t known for their sensitivity or sympathetic natures. We were typical rich kids, self-absorbed and really bad at dealing with ‘regular’ business. Like terminal illnesses, accidents, deaths. We didn’t think stuff like that could touch us.
I slouched into the limo, said hi to my dad and was rewarded with a grunt.
Obviously, he’d rather read the Wall Street Journal than engage his only son in conversation. Can’t say I blamed him, I didn’t feel too eloquent at the moment. Leaning my burning head against the cool leather seats, I dozed off and was woken by my dad poking me. The limo had rolled to a stop in front of Mount Sinai Medical Centre. I’d been out of it the whole drive.
I opened one eye, feeling fuzzy. “We there already?” I croaked groggily.
Dad snorted. “Obviously. Let’s move. I have a meeting in 10 minutes.”
Wishing he had just let me sleep, I got out of the car and followed him into the hospital to a reserved room, where he was treated like royalty, as usual. And me? I was treated like a prince.
“Coffee, Master Astor? Tea? Muffins? Crumpets? Salad?” A pretty nurse hovered over me, ready to take any order I cared to give her. Too bad I didn’t feel like giving orders. I couldn’t even think straight. Damn leather seats, making me sleep better than I had in days.
I declined all offers of snacks, waiting as dad had an intense discussion with Doctor Khan, the neurologist, before turning to me.
“See you later,” he said gruffly. “Don’t leave before I get here.”
I shrugged in response. I didn’t feel li
ke talking. The fear had kicked in anew and my skin crawled.
Doctor Khan waited for me to dress in a hospital gown in the bathroom, then motioned for me to follow him.
“We have one last test for you to take, after which your results will be ready,” he said over his shoulder, leading me into an examination room.
The test didn’t take long and I was soon back in my reserved room, still dressed in my gown as my pretty nurse fussed around me. I finally took her up on her coffee offer just as Doctor Khan stepped back into the room, his usual smile on his genial face as he rustled some papers in his hands. My stomach tensed.
“I have the results of your neurological workup here,” he started, kinda unnecessarily, I thought. “If you like, we could wait for your father to be present before I tell you our findings.”
I shook my head before the doctor even finished talking. Dad wouldn’t care about missing the diagnosis, just about how much it would cost. For a millionaire, he was rather stingy.
“It’s okay, you can tell me. I promise I won’t cry,” I joked, even though my heart wasn’t in it.
The moment of reckoning was here at long last and I was scared out of my mind, but I needed to know what was wrong with me. Just simple migraines like dad had claimed? I doubted it.
Doctor Khan smiled wider. “Bravery, I like that. Well, Lucas, you were referred to me by your family doctor because he spotted a mass in your brain that worried him. After perusing the scans and x-rays, we have come to the root of your problem.”
I sat stock still on the edge of the bed, my fingers digging into the mattress. It was serious, I could sense it. My heart thudded as I waited for him to tell me.
“You have a giant aneurysm.”
I stared blankly.
“A- a what?” I asked, confused.
“An aneurysm,” Doctor Khan repeated calmly. “A bulge in the artery walls of your brain, essentially.”
I bit my lip. “Is it cancer?” I asked slowly.
See how single minded I can get?
“No, Lucas, it’s not cancer. It’s a cerebrovascular disorder and it’s been causing your headaches, we believe. It’s all here in these reports; I’ll just give you a copy for you to look over.” He handed me the papers. “The aneurysm itself, it really is very large. But not to worry, as soon as we operate, everything will be fine.”
I shook my head slightly, trying to process the information. “So- it’s not life threatening? I don’t need chemo or anything, just an operation and I’ll be good as new?” I asked. I could hardly believe it. All that worry and a simple operation could heal me?
Maybe not.
Doctor Khan looked nervously at me. “Well, not exactly,” he said, clearing his throat. My heart sank. What now? “Aneurysm surgery is very risky at times and it is always tricky. The good thing is I have a very good track record when it comes to surgery. You’re in good hands. But the problem is that your aneurysm isn’t big enough to operate on just yet.”
“You said it’s giant,” I pointed out, not bothering to add that he had also quoted a line from the Allstate commercials.
He nodded. “It is. But in order for us to be able to operate, it has to be a specific size. Yours isn’t yet.”
“So I’ll have this clot in my brain for life?” I asked.
“No. When it’s the right size, we’ll operate.”
I felt vaguely sick. “You mean it’s still growing?”
“Yes. We’ll take a watch and wait approach. I calculate that your surgery will take place in two months. When its optimum size, we’ll operate.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. I could handle this. It wasn’t cancer. I could deal with that.
“But there is a problem with aneurysms, especially ones of that size.”
Of course.
I gazed at Doctor Khan levelly, trying not to show any emotion. “What might that be?”
He looked nervous. “They do have a tendency to rupture.”
That didn’t sound good at all.
“Explain.”
“Several factors can make them burst, causing severe bleeding in the brain. This happens suddenly and without warning.”
I cringed. “That-sounds bad.”
“It generally is. Once an aneurysm ruptures, chances of survival are slim. 40 percent of patients die before 24 hours elapse. 20 percent more die from complications before 6 months. Rebleeding is also a worry and even if you do survive, brain damage is a factor to deal with.”
It was way too much for me to take in so I just settled for staring at Doctor Khan.
“Oh.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s why it’s a very serious condition.”
I rubbed my eyes. “And mine- what’s the risk of it rupturing?” I asked, grabbing onto straws. I looked up at Doctor Khan hopefully. “If it’s too small to operate on, it won’t rupture, will it?”
A sympathetic look on his face, the doctor shook his head. I closed my eyes. “While your aneurysm is too small to operate on, it is large enough to rupture.”
“So- I could die?” I finally asked the question that was gnawing at me.
“I cannot answer that,” Doctor Khan said, a scandalized look on his face. Of course he can’t answer that, what was I thinking? Wouldn’t want to upset me, my aneurysm might rupture. I bit back a laugh. How ironic was it that I could die because of something I had never heard of? Continuing, Doctor Khan said, “You’re lucky. You have your youth on your side. And the best healthcare money can buy.”
I almost snorted as he walked closer to me and patted my shoulder.
“Funny, I don’t feel lucky,” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“We offer counseling, a chance for you to discuss your fears with a qualified therapist who has experience with dealing with aneurysm patients, before and after surgery.” He sat down next to me. “I’m sure she’ll be a lot of help.”
“Has that therapist had an aneurysm?” I asked.
“No, but-,” Doctor Khan replied.
“Then I’m not going,” I said decisively. Doctor Khan looked at me, his hand heavy on my shoulder.
“Luke-,” he started. I shook my head.
“I’m sorry, I’d just- I’d rather talk to my own therapist if I have to talk to one at all,” I said.
“Fine,” the doctor nodded, obviously realizing that I wasn’t about to change my mind.
I put my head in my hands, looking up at Doctor Khan through my hair. “Can I go now?” I asked dully.
“Your father has to sign you out, as you’re still a minor.”
“Can you call him?”
Doctor Khan stood up. “Of course. If there’s anything else-.”
“No thanks. I just- I need to change,” I said, pointing down at the stupid gown I was dressed in.
Doctor Khan patted my shoulder once more, said “Good luck, Lucas,” and left me alone in the room, feeling numb.
I grabbed my clothes and headed to the bathroom to change. I felt empty inside, hollow, as I stared at myself in the mirror. How was I meant to deal with the fact that, at any given time, I could rupture my aneurysm and die? Two months suddenly seemed so far off and I wondered if I would even make it. Was this how it was supposed to end? I woke up today, sure that I had a tumor and instead found out that it was much worse.
I pulled on my jeans and my t-shirt, splashed my face with water from the sink and rubbed it dry with a towel.
As I was staring at myself in the mirror, thinking about the mass in my brain which was causing my headaches, a noise from the room made me start, and then I relaxed. It was probably the over-eager nurse.
Buckling my belt, I stepped out of the bathroom, the gown crumpled into a ball in my fist, only to spot a pair of legs disappearing under the bed. Very strange.
“There’s no money under there, I already checked,” I said, a grin on my face. What the hell was she doing?
“I wasn’t looking for- I was just getting this ball for a kid-
I’m sorry,” a soft voice said.
That was definitely not the hot nurse. In fact, it sounded a little bit like-
“CiCi?”
But what the hell would CiCi be doing under my bed? She wouldn’t even accept my apology!
“Luke?” the voice under the bed said.
Yup, definitely CiCi.
I threw myself onto the bed, scooting over till I was leaning over the other side, my hair sweeping the floor. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I found myself looking upside down into CiCi’s face. The scared look on her face made me grin, forgetting about the aneurysm for a second as I looked into her wide hazel eyes.
“We really need to stop meeting like this.”
CHAPTER 6
forgive me.
Celsi’s Point of View
There had to be a reason that Luke and I kept running into each other. Yet, as I scrambled out from under the bed, gripping the accursed ball that had steered me into Luke’s path, I couldn’t think of one.
He was lying down on the bed, his arms propped behind his head, staring at me through half lidded eyes. “So what are you doing here?” he drawled, covering his mouth as he yawned.
Oh, don’t let me keep you from sleeping.
I had to leave, and fast. Miss Campbell was probably freaking out right about now. I kept my ears pricked for screams of rage (Miss Campbell) or screams of pain (everyone else in the daycare).
“I came in to get this,” I replied, holding up the bouncy ball. “It rolled under the bed.”
This boy is way too fine to be so dumb.
Because I specifically said I was here for the ball when I was under the bed. Otherwise, what would I be doing loitering in one of Mount Sinai Centre’s private rooms?