by J. L. Berg
He looked down at them—all of them—and huffed, “Okay.”
I laughed at his reluctance and bent down to begin helping. A wave of nausea hit me suddenly, and I froze, waiting for it to pass. It was the second occurrence today, and I wondered if I was possibly coming down with something. A couple of students in my morning class had been out, and the teacher had mentioned a bug was going around campus. Luckily, Jude hadn’t noticed my misstep, so I proceeded to shuffle packages his way as the queasiness began to fade. I didn’t want to miss tonight, especially since my parents had flown in just for it. I could get the stomach flu tomorrow.
Not today. I sent that mental warning to my brain, hoping it would hold things together for at least a few hours so that I could play Santa for my family.
They had graciously held off on celebrating Christmas this year, so Jude and I could extend our honeymoon through the New Year.
“All set?” he asked.
He slung the two large bags over his shoulder like a modern-day Kris Kringle—a really hot one.
I smiled, trying to rid the naughty thoughts from my head, and just nodded.
“You’re picturing me as Santa, aren’t you?”
“Totally am.”
“That’s a little creepy.”
“You asked.” I laughed.
“Come on. Let’s go deliver these and see our family.”
The drive seemed never-ending as I anxiously sat in the passenger side of the car, watching the busy city slowly give way to rolling hills and sleepy houses. The sky appeared, making its presence known with an abundance of twinkling stars. Stars were such a rarity in the city—always outshined by the bright lights and the tall, towering buildings. Here, in the country, where things were a bit simpler—one could sit back and enjoy what nature had created.
New York was an amazing place to live. Each day was slightly different from the day before even if you’d set out with the intention to do the same dull old thing. That was what I loved about it—the sense of adventure that was always lying in wait, ready to sweep me off my heels and show me something new. It was never dull, never boring.
But there were times when I would grow restless, tired of the noise and the incessant rush.
One day, I knew we’d eventually leave the city and settle someplace less hectic, more peaceful—maybe a place that reminded Jude of the calm quiet of Iceland or the serene beauty of the Seychelles or perhaps somewhere that encompassed the beauty he’d fallen so madly in love with in Santorini.
I’d nearly traveled the world now with Jude by my side. We’d lived on either side of the country—the laid-back beach life of California and the unyielding business world of New York—and it all boiled down to this. It didn’t matter where we were, here or across the world in a foreign land.
As long as we were together, we were always home.
The car shifted slightly as Jude pulled off the main road before pushing the code to enter the gate. The first time I’d visited the country estate Jude’s family owned, I’d been intimidated, seeing the large wrought iron gate that gave way to a tree-lined pathway. But as we’d driven, Jude had begun telling me stories of his childhood. He’d pointed out the places he used to hide and the gardens he’d helped his mother tend. He’d shared how one summer, long ago, he and Roman had thought it would be a good idea to go bike riding together—using only one bike. He’d gotten paper in a grueling rock-paper-scissors match, and since Roman’s scissor had cut his paper, Jude had been the lucky one to ride on the handlebars.
“I would think he would have wanted to do that?” I asked.
“And risk his pretty face? No way,” he answered, looking doubtful.
“So, what happened?”
“Well, we were riding up and down this very road, having a blast, until we hit a rock or a ditch. I can’t remember. All I know is, we went down—hard. I got road burn like you wouldn’t believe. The curse words that flew out of Roman’s preadolescent mouth were impressive even then.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and I waited for him to continue.
“I tried to get up but realized my foot was wedged in the bicycle spokes. Roman looked down and panicked, screaming that Mom was going to kill us.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“Left me,” he answered, a smug grin on his face.
“He did not!”
“Oh, he did. Left me right there in the middle of the road. But to his credit, he went to get help, so I forgave him—for that, at least.”
“Boys,” I said, shaking my head.
“They’re the worst.”
After hearing his harrowing stories and adventures here as a boy, the big mountain of a house hadn’t felt so dominating anymore, and I’d eased into the warmth and homey-feeling Jude’s mother had infused into the dwelling over the years. Even my own mother, who had spent the majority of her life living in apartments less than a thousand square feet, had found the house charming and wonderful.
She was the first person I saw when we entered the living room, and my heart soared. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed her.
“Hi, Mom,” I said softly.
She held out her arms, touching me, as her eyes swept over my features. “You’re so tan!” she exclaimed. She sucked in a laugh as she pulled me toward her.
“Not really,” I answered. “Maybe a little less pale?”
“Well, you look beautiful, whatever it is.”
We finished our reunion, and my attention quickly turned to Marcus, who was patiently waiting his turn. He held up his arm, the sleeve rolled up to his elbow, and he compared our skin tones. His Latino blood mixed with his love for surfing made me look like a ghost.
“See, Mom? Definitely not tan.”
We all joined in a round of chuckles as Marcus pulled me into his arms.
“Good to see you, kid. We’ve missed you.”
“Did you get my postcards?” I asked them both.
“Oh, yes. One actually arrived on Christmas Eve, the one from Iceland. Did you really see the Northern Lights?” my mother asked.
We sat down on the couch.
I nodded, catching Jude’s grin, as he finished adding our presents to the pile under the massive Christmas tree that was still up just for us. Then, he sat with us on the couch. Jude’s mother entered, greeting everyone, and soon, we were all chatting away about the honeymoon adventures abroad.
“Where’s Roman?” I asked, realizing I hadn’t seen his car out front when we arrived.
“He called and said he was running late, but he should be here in time for desserts and presents,” Jude’s mother answered.
I saw Jude’s face go flat as he tried to restrain his opinion. My hands went to his and squeezed. I knew he was constantly being let down by his brother, but someday, I knew Roman would figure it all out—or at least, I hoped.
“Speaking of desserts, I just need to do a few things in the kitchen to finish up the cake I made,” my mom announced, rising from her spot on the couch.
“And I’ll work on appetizers,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said, following her out.
“Mind if I go help them?” I asked the remaining men.
Jude and Marcus looked longingly at the TV, shaking their heads with enthusiasm, and I tried not to giggle. As I headed off to the kitchen, I heard the TV turn on and then something about a football game and debates on what channel it was on.
Our mothers were in the midst of a pleasant conversation about cooking when I arrived, both of them happily working on their designated tasks.
“Can I help with something?” I asked, looking around as I pushed up my sleeves.
“Sure. Why don’t you come over here and help with the appetizers?” Jude’s mother suggested, ushering me with a hand motion over to where she was preparing a platter of cheeses and fruits.
My stomach suddenly rolled, and my head spun. I grabbed the edge of the counter to steady myself.
My mom’s tender touch was there in seconds. “Lailah
, are you all right?” she asked, swiping her hand across my forehead.
Shaking my head to ease her panic, I answered, “I think I’m just coming down with a stomach bug . . . or maybe a mild flu.”
“Nothing is mild when it comes to you. Does Jude know?” she asked, taking my hand to guide me toward the breakfast nook.
I took a seat while she went to a cabinet to grab a glass for water.
“No, I haven’t told him. I know he wouldn’t have let me come tonight, and I didn’t want to miss out on anything.”
She gave me a stern look. “You know we would have understood.”
“But you came so far,” I said as guilt washed over me.
Her soft heels clicked as she walked back to me and took the adjacent seat.
Jude’s mother joined us as well, her hands wrapped firmly around a cup of tea she’d been nursing. “Keeping you healthy is more important than anything else, Lailah,” she said, reaching out with her warm hands.
“And we can’t do that if you don’t help us,” my mother added, scooting the glass of water forward.
I took a small sip, feeling the cool liquid coat my throat, and it eased the tension in my stomach. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll tell Jude and make an appointment with my doctor first thing in the morning. I just didn’t want him to freak out.”
His mother smiled softly. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s his job.”
“Of all the days for my brother to bail on me,” Jude huffed, running around the room, trying to get dressed as quickly as possible.
He’d hoped to have a few hours free this morning, so he could be with me for my doctor’s appointment.
After telling him on the way home about my less than stellar appetite and the illness that was going around school, he had been ready to swing by the ER on the way to our apartment, but I’d managed to talk him out of it, and we’d both settled on a call to the doctor in the morning as long as he could be in attendance for the appointment.
Just the idea of me being sick made him jumpy, nervous, and downright snippy.
He’d called his secretary moments after my appointment was made, knowing his schedule was fairly clear, to let her know he would be in late, only to find out Roman had called in moments earlier to do the same thing.
Thirteen unanswered calls later, Jude was thrashing around the room, throwing a shirt and tie on, swearing under his breath, and most likely, imagining every way possible to inflict bodily harm to his older brother. He’d even considered taking an elevator ride up to his floor but figured Roman wouldn’t answer.
“I can reschedule,” I suggested, watching from the bed, as he ran around in frustration.
He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to me, his tie askew, as he was attempting to buckle his pants. “No, absolutely not. I’d rather have the doctor see you as early as possible without me than wait for a later appointment just so I could attend. I’ll be fine. I’m more annoyed with Roman than anything.”
Placing both feet on the floor, I stood, feeling a little better than I had the night before. I secretly wondered if I even needed to go now that I was feeling fine, but there was no getting out of it since Jude knew.
“You need to let your annoyance with him go,” I urged, taking the few steps forward until our bodies met.
“I wish I could.”
“You can. Just stop fixating on all his flaws, and focus on the good parts.”
“There are good things about Roman?” His eyebrow rose.
“He brought me here, didn’t he?” I challenged, sliding my hand up the back of his shirt until I found warm skin.
“Yes, he did. That’s a debt I’ll never be able to repay.” He smiled warily.
“And he didn’t leave you in that street all those years ago,” I reminded him.
“It wasn’t like it was a public street,” he retorted, chuckling, before bending down to tenderly kiss my mouth. “Are you sure you’re going to be all right without me?” he asked, our lips still nearly touching.
“I’ll manage.” I said. “Finish getting ready. I’m going to hop in the shower.”
“Yet another reason to hate my brother this morning,” he said gruffly, watching me, as I turned toward the shower.
“Let it go!” I hollered from the bathroom.
“Are you naked?” he asked.
My nightgown dropped to the floor, and I laughed. “Yes!”
“Then, I still hate him!”
“Go to work!” I yelled, giggling. I turned the faucet toward hot and waited.
Life couldn’t get more perfect than this.
The wind hit me like a punch to the face as I exited the cab, making my way into the hospital where my doctor’s office was located. When I’d moved from Southern California, Marcus had made sure I would be in good hands. It wasn’t quite the same as having my uncle, now stepfather, care for me, but Dr. Hough was a close second.
As I stepped through the glass doors, I suddenly felt uneasy. The familiar scent of bleach and chemicals filled my nostrils, reminding me of my childhood spent in similar washed-out hallways and drab rooms.
I nearly turned around, the single piece of toast I’d managed to eat that morning feeling like a lumpy ball in the pit of my stomach.
Why hadn’t I brought someone with me?
Why did I feel like something bad was about to happen?
A nurse walked past me, wheeling a patient in a gurney. An IV was hanging from a pole at the top of the bed, reminding me of the countless surgeries and procedures I’d had over the years. My fingers immediately went to the top of my chest, etching out the scar that I bore from the many hardships I’d endured, the many battles I’d won to get here.
Feeling a bit more confident, I moved swiftly, stepping eagerly toward the elevator that would carry me to the correct floor. I knew every visit to a hospital would bring back memories—good ones and bad ones. Today was just a visit into the dark days, and it was something I needed to move past—quickly.
Nothing is wrong, I reminded myself.
That is all over now, I chanted in my head.
Everything is perfect, I silently screamed.
The elevator dinged, and I nearly jumped. A woman standing next to me held out her hand, urging me to go first. Her warm smile calmed me as I went on my way, down the hall toward the correct suite number. Pushing the door open, I took a deep breath and tried to center myself.
Everything was fine. The air inside was less harsh, giving off a more pleasant aroma, and I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax slightly from just this tiniest adjustment.
Logically, I knew I was still in the hospital, but mentally, it suddenly felt less intimidating. I signed in before relaxing in a comfy chair in the waiting room I’d grown accustomed to, and I pulled out my phone to read, feeling my panic fall away like the leaves on a blustery autumn day.
Soon, I was called back, and after my weight and blood pressure had been checked, the nurse began writing down my other vitals.
“So, what brings you in today, Lailah? We didn’t expect you for another few days,” she said pleasantly as she cradled my wrist to find my pulse.
“I haven’t been feeling all that well for the last two days, and I figured, better safe than sorry, I guess. So, I decided to come in early. I could have gone and seen my primary doctor, but—”
Her hand covered mine. “No need. We’re here when you need us. You know that. Now, tell me what kind of symptoms you’ve been having, and we’ll go from there.”
I went over the bouts of nausea and the weak and tired feeling I’d been having.
“Classes have started back up, and it’s flu season.” She sighed. “I’ll go check with Dr. Hough, but we’ll probably do a few tests to check for a variety of infections.”
I nodded as she finished typing a few things into the laptop before making her exit.
My feet dangled beneath me as I shifted around on the uncomfortable exam table. The sound of paper crinkling beneath me took care o
f the awkward silence as my erratic breath whooshed in and out of my lungs.
Flu. That’s not terrible. I could deal with that.
A few missed classes. Maybe a week if it’s really bad, and then everything would be back to normal.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock. The nurse reappeared with several items in her hands.
“Okay, I managed to catch Dr. Hough in between rooms. He wants me to swab your throat for the flu, and we’re also going to do a few blood tests and a urine test just to cover all our bases. We won’t get back the results from the blood tests for a few days, but everything else, we’ll have immediately.”
“Okay,” I responded.
She grabbed the giant Q-tip-looking thing and had me open wide before swabbing the very back of my throat. I tried not to gag. My eyes watered and burned, as my throat constricted involuntarily.
“Sorry. So sorry,” she apologized, her eyes filled with empathy. She swiftly pulled back and capped the test. “We’ll let that sit for about ten minutes. In the meantime,” she said, handing me a clear container, “you’ve got work to do.”
I rolled my eyes and hopped off the table, giving a slight smile. She escorted me to the restroom and told me where to put everything when I finished.
After a few minutes and several silent curses, I was done and waiting back in the exam room. I stared at the pictures on the walls, the cartoon-like sketches of hearts and valves, as my own hand reached up to feel the rhythmic beat in my chest. The buzz from the lights became almost hypnotic as I sat there, picking at the leftover nail polish I’d worn for New Year’s, a sparkly gold color I’d thought looked festive and bright. A chip fell to the floor, a stark contrast to the dull gray linoleum tile below my feet.
Hours, days even, seemed to float by as I waited. I’d been in this exam room countless times, but it had never seemed this endless. The fear I’d felt when I’d walked through those double doors of the hospital resurfaced. I had this undeniable worry that something was about to happen, something I couldn’t control.
The knock on the door caused all the breath in my lungs to falter, and I breathed in, gulping for air, as Dr. Hough entered.