“I don’t think that’s how it works,” he tells me, still holding on to my hand. I feel the roughness of his fingers, and the massiveness of his palms.
“I’m sorry I didn’t remember your name. I wasn’t paying too much attention yesterday,” I tell him sheepishly.
“I wouldn’t have been able to tell,” he retorts, and I can see in a different world, like in a world where a guy like him would look at a girl like me, or where I wasn’t sick, we’d be good friends.
“You’re going to have to start paying attention if you’re thinking about returning to B.U.,” he tells me, then realizes he’s still holding my hand. He lets go, a blush creeping up his neck and shading his cheeks.
“I think I’ll manage. It was nice seeing you again, Jesse,” I tell him.
I watch as he takes a few steps back and stands awkwardly near the door. I can tell he’s debating whether he should stay or leave. He seems a little flustered, which is surprising considering how handsome he is. I wouldn’t have pegged him as a guy who easily gets nervous. With his ocean blue eyes, dark brown hair, and even wearing his scrubs, I’d think he’d confidently command every room he walks into.
Instantly, I wish I’d met him under different circumstances. I wonder if we’d both attended B.U. at the same time, would we have run into each other in the quad, café, or at a football game? I’m sure he’s an athlete. I mean, with that frame, it’d be a waste not to be.
“How are you feeling?" he asks, lingering longer despite being given a chance to get out. I guess he does have a job to do; he isn’t here for a social visit.
“I feel the same as usual,” I tell him. He once again abandons his spot near the door and moves towards me.
“So there’s the nausea, which you already told me about, but what else is there? Weakness in your limbs? Headache?” he asks, and I notice he’s not looking down at the paper in his hand.
“Ding! Ding! Ding!” I joke, feeling myself get light-headed almost immediately.
“Sweetie, I’ve got your ginger ale. Sorry it took so—” my mother says, stopping when she sees Jesse. I look up to find her staring at him.
“Hello, dear. I’m Danielle,” my mom says, extending her free hand to Jesse while handing me the ginger ale.
Avoiding her eyes like she’s the most intimidating person he’s ever met, he mumbles, “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am. I’m Jesse—one of the interns.”
I hold back a giggle at how visibly red this guy is getting and take a sip of my ginger ale. I really hope it’ll push away the nausea and somehow miraculously give me strength. The room goes completely silent while my mom watches him with curiosity. He looks to me, then back to her. I can physically feel his discomfort. Under different circumstances, this would’ve been hilarious, but right now it’s just awkward.
“I was just checking in to make sure Ms. Evans was doing okay,” he says, answering a question she never asked.
“And is she?” my mom asks with a big smile.
“I am,” I tell her, relieving Jesse of any further questioning and giving him yet another opportunity to escape.
“On that note, I’ll be back a little later to check in,” he says, striding through the door.
“Cute guy,” Mom says with a glint in her eye that tells me she’s up to no good.
“No!”
She lifts her eyebrow questioningly. “Not cute?”
“Not happening. Whatever’s going through that head of yours, it is not happening, Mom!”
“There was nothing in my head,” she says, but her smile tells me she’s lying through her teeth.
“You’ve never been a good liar,” I tell her.
“All I’m saying is, he’s a handsome guy,” she says innocently.
“And?” I ask, though I know I shouldn’t.
“And nothing. Don’t you agree?”
“I guess, Mom. Yes, he’s a little attractive.”
She claps in excitement. “You should get his phone number!”
“And do what with it? You see; I knew you were up to something!”
She points at herself. “Who? Me?” she says, acting innocent. “I was just thinking it might be good to get yourself some new friends,” she says, and while I know she’s joking, I also know her words are true.
“He’s just doing his job, Mom. I’m sure he doesn’t need any new friends.”
And even if he did, I don’t want to be the burdensome sick girl to anyone else ever again.
Burdening my parents is enough. My friends couldn’t take it, and I won’t make anyone else go through that.
“Doesn’t hurt to try, Zo,” my mom continues, pulling a chair closer to my bed.
“It ain’t gonna happen, Mom!”
“Fine. But you’re no fun—you get that from your father. If you were anything like I was when I was your age, his number would not be the only thing you’d be getting.”
I gasp in mock horror. “Mom! Gross! We’ve talked about you telling me stories of your ‘adventurous’ youth!”
“I’m not giving you any details. I’m just saying, live a little,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.
If I get the chance to, I will. I’m prepared to live a little more, but only when I know I’m actually going to live.
The jury’s still out on that one.
My mom takes a seat on the couch, grabs the remote and turns on the TV. She begins flipping through the channels, stopping only when she finds FRIENDS. This has become our ritual from the first day we walked into this hospital. She always sits next to me, while I lay in the hospital bed. With her hand clinging to my own like a lifeline, we watch FRIENDS until Dad shows up a little later. Somehow, this helps us think about the better times in our lives—the times before this.
FRIENDS begins, and I can’t help but remember when I had some of my own.
5
Not Creepy
Jesse
I’m not sure if I’m actually allowed to check on patients yet. Still, after I found out which room Zoe was in last week, every time I walk by, it’s like a magnet pulling me in her direction. All I know is, I want to see her again.
For the majority of my morning, I shadow a few different doctors, making sure I don’t give in to the urge to check on Zoe; I remind myself that she isn’t exactly my responsibility. Even if she was, it was so hard to find the courage to knock on her door the first time around that I don’t know if I could do it again. Though seeing her smile might be worth it.
Still, I wasn’t prepared for her mom to watch my every move—or even be in the room—while I stumbled through a conversation with her daughter. I couldn’t help the nerves that took over. I felt like a school boy meeting my girlfriend’s parents for the first time. But that wasn’t actually the case.
Her mom showing up was not something I was expecting, but I should have. Parents tend to spend every waking moment here. Who wouldn’t want to make sure that their child is okay? Cancer affects them just as much as the patient—maybe even more because watching something happen to someone they love, knowing there’s nothing you can do about it, fucking hurts.
The similarities between suffering parents is striking, but not shocking. Zoe’s mom has bags under her eyes and looks visibly tired. I know her exhaustion is both physical and emotional.
“There’s one more patient you all haven’t met yet!” Fiona tells me when I walk by the nurse’s station. “Follow me,” she adds cheerfully.
Since I started a little over a week ago, I’ve discovered she is, in fact, not only a nurse, but also the intern coordinator. Following behind her are Lilly and Marissa, the other two interns who joined us yesterday. I found out they’re both already in the medical program at Bragan—which is a difficult thing to do considering the school accepts less than twenty percent of applicants. I asked them both a few questions about the program and how they found the process of getting in since that’s what I want to do after graduation.
It seems it won’t be too hard to get s
ome insight about the application process because, although they both seem to be quite bright—they have to be if they’re in the medical program at B.U.—Lilly couldn’t stop making eyes at me while Marissa flipped her hair flirtatiously after answering all of my questions.
I’m not an idiot. I can tell when someone’s feeling me, and they both were. But while I appreciate the compliment, I’m more interested in how they got into the med program than I am in getting their phone numbers.
Lilly and Marissa walk next to me as we follow Fiona, and every so often I hear them whisper, then giggle about something. I walk faster, matching Fiona’s speed and catching up to her.
“Okay, we’re here!” Fiona says as we arrive in room 201. “Before we go in, let me tell you about who you’ll be meeting. Her name is Maria, and she’s been a patient here for almost a year. She’s four years old. She’d responded well to the treatment but ultimately relapsed a couple of months ago. Right now, her grandfather is donating bone marrow to hopefully save her life.” Fiona’s eyes get visibly teary as she speaks. I feel my hand twitch at my side, knowing it’s because I feel powerless to change her reality. I guess it doesn’t get any easier with time.
“Poor baby,” Lilly says to Marissa in an audible whisper.
“I can’t imagine what she’s going through,” Marissa adds, equally distraught.
“You won’t have to imagine it because you’re going to see it every day,” Fiona responds, and while that may sound insensitive, I know she’s right. “Anyway, Maria is a sweetheart, and I wanted her to meet you all. She’s one of those patients you’ll want to come and say hello to every so often.” We all nod.
“Treatment isn’t the only thing these kids need; they also need someone to make them laugh, someone to make them smile and to forget they’re sick, even if just for a few minutes.” Fiona looks at each of us intently and then adds, “This part of the job is just as important as all others. We never know when the last smile will be, so we make each of them count.” Fiona takes a moment to compose herself. One thought loops through my mind: Cancer doesn’t tell you when it’s going to take away the people you love. It just does it.
“Let’s head inside,” Fiona says finally. She knocks on the door before opening it, and we all follow after her.
ZOE
Maria bursts out laughing as we play peek-a-boo. It’s kind of crazy how easy it is to entertain kids. Even in this place, they don’t lose the innocence they had when they first walked in. Maria’s laughter echoes off the walls, and we all laugh along with her.
I turn when I hear a faint knock and watch Fiona walk in with a smile on her face. Trailing behind her are two girls wearing scrubs. One is a brunette, and the other one is blonde. Rob, Martha, and Maria turn in the direction of the door as Fiona greets everyone.
“Nice to see you making your rounds, Zoe,” Fi tells me with a wink.
“She always does. You guys should hire her,” Rob jokes.
“I’ll let you know when I’m looking for a job,” I answer.
“We’ll be sure to save it for you,” Fiona replies, and we all laugh. I don’t know that I’d ever want to work here. It may be selfish, but I don’t want to see people suffering.
“Rob, Martha, Maria, these are our new interns—Lilly, Marissa, and Jesse,” Fiona says just as Jesse steps into the room.
“Very nice meeting you all,” the small blonde says a little too cheerfully. I don’t know if she’s Marissa or Lilly.
“Yes, happy to meet you,” the other one adds, her voice high-pitched.
“How’s the little one doing?’ Jesse asks, looking directly at Maria, who has since fallen asleep. She looks peaceful like that, and I watch her for a beat.
“She’s doing okay. She was laughing right before you guys came in, but you know how fatigue comes out of nowhere. We’re just getting ready for her transplant,” Martha says, running her fingers through her daughter’s brown hair lovingly. Maria is Martha’s everything. I’d recognize that look anywhere because it’s the same one my mother gives me—the look that shows they’d give anything to switch places with us.
“Good to hear,” Jesse says, and I can tell he’s going to be a good doctor. His eyes find mine, and for a moment all I can do is stare, trying to figure him out. I break the connection and turn my attention to Fiona instead.
“What brings you all here?’ Rob says.
“Lilly and Marissa are med students at Bragan; Jesse is pre-med there too,” Fiona explains. I know he’s an intern at the hospital and all, but with his build, I’d peg him for someone who’d want to play a professional sport full-time instead of subjecting himself to an extremely hard program. I knew a few students in the program who complained about the harsh load of work they had and how difficult it was to get in.
I watch him subtly, tracing the muscles visible through his scrubs. Men in uniform have always done it for me—I never thought scrubs would have the same effect though.
“So, you all want to be doctors?” Martha asks, finally tearing her eyes off Maria and engaging in the conversation. “Do you have a specific field in mind? "
“I want to go into physical therapy,” the blonde replies.
“I want to go into sports medicine,” the brunette adds, and at her response I shake my head. I don’t mean to be one of those girls who judges others without knowing them, but for some reason with these girls, I can’t help it.
“So why are you here?” I ask. “I mean, this is the oncology floor at a children’s hospital.” This isn’t the place you go to for physical therapy or sports medicine. None of us are fancy sports players…well, maybe Jesse is, but he isn’t a patient.
“Um,” is the only sound that comes out of the blonde girl’s mouth as she’s stumped by my question. She looks to the brunette for help, but her friend doesn’t offer anything in response either. Their discomfort doesn’t make me feel bad. Instead, it confirms what I already know: they don’t want to be here, at least not long-term. For them, this is temporary. This is their way of meeting whatever academic requirement they have before moving on to the kind of work they want to do—the kind of medicine that pays them well and keeps them away from children sick with cancer.
Temporary for them. Permanent for us, I think bitterly.
“You didn’t answer the first question,” I say to Jesse when I realize the girls won’t say anything else.
“Me?” he asks, pointing at himself.
“Yeah, you.” I don’t know why I’m so invested in this topic. I guess I want to know if this is temporary for him too.
“I’m hoping to go to med school and do cancer research,” Jesse responds, not missing a beat. He scratches his hair as he waits for whatever’s coming next.
“Wonderful,” Martha says with a hopeful smile taking back control of the conversation.
“We need more people like you, young man,” Rob tells Jesse, echoing my thoughts. “More good people who want to help those that are suffering.”
“All I want to do is help in whatever way I can, sir,” Jesse tells Rob, and they both share a nod of understanding.
“Well, we’re off to go and visit a few other patients today!” Fiona announces. “Please let us know if you need anything.”
“Will do. Thanks for everything!” Martha tells an already retreating Fi.
“Stay out of trouble, Zoe,” Fiona warns me, pulling open the door. The girls follow behind, and just as before, Jesse’s the last to leave. I see his gaze turn to Maria once more. Then it bounces to Martha, Rob, and finally to me. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something else but then shuts it, shakes his head and gives a little wave goodbye before following the others out.
6
One More Time
Jesse
The all too familiar sound of gravel crushing beneath my feet fills my ears. The sun is hidden, the clouds taking over and painting the sky a lifeless gray. According to my weather app, there’s also an impending rainstorm—this couldn’t be m
ore perfect.
I take cautious steps to where I know she is, following the pebbled path to where she…where the love of my life has been for a few years now.
Arriving at the stone marked with her name, I take a deep breath and allow my fingers to trace the outline of her name, the tips following each letter. ‘Hayley Evergreen. 1996-2014 Amazing daughter, sister, friend. Gone too soon.’ Those were the words chosen to be on her epitaph. I had no input when it came to choosing them. It’s not that I wasn’t asked—more like I was in denial that she was really gone. I had been for a while, but ultimately I accepted it. If I’d chosen anything to add to her epitaph, I would’ve added girlfriend to the list of things.
I lower myself to my knees, removing the now wilted flowers I’d brought her last week. I replace them with a new bouquet of lilies—her favorite.
I take a seat next to her headstone and start to talk. “I can’t believe it’s almost been four years, Hayley.” I know she can’t hear me, but maybe she’s listening from somewhere up above.
“I started my internship this week. It was interesting being there again—and by interesting, I mean terrifying. If you’d been here, you’d have told me to suck it up, to get over my fear and move forward—to move on. Then again, if you were here, I wouldn’t need to be there. I may have chosen a different path, another career.
“So, I met this little girl, Maria. You’d love her; she’s adorable and has the prettiest smile. She’s four years old, and her laughter is contagious. Actually, she reminds me a little of you, of what I imagine you were like when you were her age. I always thought you were the kind of girl to wear your mother’s dresses and dance around the house all day.”
I clear my throat, stretching my legs out in front of me. Turning my head to the side, I trace the letters of her name with my eyes. “Remember when I asked you to prom?” Hayley had been dropping hints for weeks, waiting to see when and if I’d be asking her. The guys had given me so much shit for waiting so long.
Fighting For You (Bragan University Series Book 2) Page 3