“Any football games coming up?” she says, changing the topic.
“Not yet, but when we start playing, will you be cheering for me in the stands?”
She smirks, trying to suppress a laugh. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Seriously?” I ask, pretending to be hurt that she wouldn’t go watch me play.
“Well, maybe I’ll cheer for you,” she says, giving in. I laugh when I realize that had been her goal.
“I’ll be looking for you in the bleachers.”
“You won’t find me.”
“You’re actually never going to go to one of my games?”
“I’ll go, but with so many people there, you won’t be able to see me.”
“I’ll see you,” I assure her. I don’t think anyone can miss her.
“Speaking of seeing, I’ve got to go,” she says, getting up and tossing the core of the apple into the trash.
“Already?” I was hoping she could stay a little longer. “I’ll see you at the same time tomorrow?”
She nods. “Same time tomorrow, until you get sick of it.”
“I won’t.” I don’t think I could get sick of seeing her.
She lifts an eyebrow and says, “You say that now.”
“Don’t make me change my mind,” I warn.
She lowers her voice to a conspiratory whisper. “Think we’ll be friends for long?”
“I hope we are.”
The smile she gives me is hauntingly sad. “Have a good day, Falcon.” She waves goodbye before walking out the door.
“You too, Evans,” I respond. Tomorrow could not come fast enough.
10
Fitting In
Zoe
The following week, I return to the hospital for my scheduled chemo and three-day stay, but I’m told I won’t be getting chemotherapy. Instead, Mom and I are ushered into one of the waiting rooms to wait for Dr. Roman. We both sit quietly, neither one of us saying anything—both consumed by fear.
A few minutes later, Dr. Roman walks in with my chart in hand. She greets us with a smile, sets the chart down, and takes one of the available seats in front of us.
“I have good news for you,” she says. I look at my mother, who I can tell is ready to cry. Dad walks in at the same time Dr. Roman adds, “We’re done with your chemo.”
“What does that mean?” my father asks cautiously.
Dr. Roman turns to him. “It means that after looking at the results, we believe Zoe is now in remission.” She turns back to focus on me. “We didn’t find any cancer cells, so we can say that the chemo has done its job.”
“So, I’m good?” I ask. I’m waiting for her to take back the words I’ve waited months to hear.
“Yes, it seems the chemo was successful. We’ll still need to see you every couple of weeks, but other than those check-ins, you’re free to go back to normal life.”
Normal life. I forgot what that was like, but as Dr. Roman says, I can have one again, and I’m eager to start.
“And school?” I don’t know why that’s the first thing I ask, but I do. Normal life included school for me, and although I haven’t given it much thought, talking to Jesse about Bragan University has strengthened my desire to go back. My father clears his throat, and when I turn toward him, I notice that my mother is standing beside him with her hand intertwined with his. She’s got tears sliding down her face, and my father looks surprised.
“Sweetie, thinking about school just yet isn’t a great idea,” Mom says, jumping in before my dad says anything else.
“But if I wanted to…could I go back?” I ask Dr. Roman once again, hoping she gives me the answer I want to hear.
“If that’s something you want, yes. You could return to school,” Dr. Roman confirms with a smile.
In what comes out like a whisper, I respond, “Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, I add, “How soon could I return?” As I say this, I feel the hope I’d been so cautious about letting in before spread through my body.
“As soon as you’d like.”
As soon as I want? What about right now? I don’t ask those questions out loud.
“Shouldn’t she stay home a little longer?” my father, a man of few words, asks, realizing I’m serious about going back. I know that he’ll be the parent I have to target–the parent I’ll have to plead to and convince. Although the ultimate decision is technically up to me, I need my parents on board too.
“You don’t have to go back right away,” Dr. Roman adds to appease my parents.
“I wouldn’t. We’re halfway through the summer, so there’s a few months before the Fall semester starts,” I inform her, but my comment is more for my parents. There’s still time for them to coddle me, and time for me to make them see my point.
“Great! We’ll keep an eye on you when you come in and hopefully things continue to go smoothly for you.” I could read between the lines: I could relapse…just like Maria did.
The rest of the conversation and the questions my parents ask fall on deaf ears. I checked out the moment they started asking about the rules. Instead, I find myself thinking about the fact that I get to go back to school. I can return to Bragan University. I can be a student again. Sure, I won’t get to be a senior this year, but I’ll be a junior—and I’ll be alive. The fact that I’ll have to take a few extra classes to stay on track won’t deter me either or stop me from pushing forward.
Bragan University… I can’t believe I’ll get to start again in a few months.
I’m so eager to go that I don’t mind all the things I hated when I was there: getting up early for class, or homework. Now, I’m looking forward to it.
Slowly, I retreat from the room, leaving my parents and Dr. Roman behind to find my own Good Doctor. Walking the halls of this hospital, I pass by Maria’s room and peek inside, only to find it empty. She’s likely off getting some more invasive tests done, and my heart immediately begins to ache at the thought that I’ll be leaving when she has to stay.
I keep searching for Jesse, finally stopping at the cafeteria. When I scan the room, I spot the man I’m looking for sitting at one of the corner tables with Thing 1 and Thing 2—also known as Lilly and Marissa. I hear one of them giggle and see the other flip her hair as I approach. Jesse laughs at what one of them says, and in an instant I change my mind. Why would Jesse care that I was officially in remission? I stop abruptly and turn back towards the door.
“Hey, Zo!”
I glance over my shoulder to find Jesse grinning at me.
“I didn’t see you come in,” he says, standing up and walking over to me. The sour looks on the girls’ faces is priceless, and I have to stop myself from smiling.
“I thought you’d be in the ‘Poison Room’,” he says, using air quotes on the last word.
“I thought I would be too. But I’m not,” I answer cryptically.
“How come? Something wrong?” I’m pleased to see he’s worried.
“Nope, nothing. I just wanted to grab some ginger ale,” I lie. I don’t know why I don’t tell him the truth. It’s not like we aren’t friends.
“It’s in the fridge.”
“Yeah, I know,” I answer, wishing I hadn’t come in here in the first place. I head over to the fridge, grab a can of ginger ale, and open it. Slowly—carefully—I pour it into a plastic cup. Without looking at him again, I leave the cafeteria just as quickly as I walked towards it. I could’ve just told him—given him the news Dr. Roman gave me. Then again, if I say it out loud, I feel like I might jinx myself.
“Wait up,” I hear him say behind me.
I look back but don’t slow my steps. “What’s up?”
“You didn’t go in there for ginger ale.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Jeez, Zoe, would you just stop?” he says, exasperated.
With a huff, I slow down enough for him to catch up. I show him my plastic cup. “See. Ginger ale.”
“You didn’t have to get it from the cafeteria,” he says.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because there’s a fridge closer to where you had your check-up.”
He waits for me to contradict him, but he’s caught me out. I shrug. “Do you regularly have lunch with the other interns?” I ask, jealousy rising in me.
He blinks, thrown by the change of subject. “Sometimes. I had to take an earlier break today, and I knew you had chemo.” He starts running a hand through his hair.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’ll be fine,” he says, and I don’t miss the fact that he’s used the future tense.
He will be fine, but he’s not right now.
“If you ever need to talk…” I mindlessly bring the rim of the cup to my lips.
“I thought you didn’t like ginger ale anymore,” he says.
“Yes, I do,” I counter. I know he’s changing the subject because he doesn’t want to talk about himself. It’s a classic deflecting technique.
“No, you said you stopped drinking it after you got to go home, remember? You told me you’ve had it too many times that you can only associate it with being in the hospital.” I stare at him. We talked about that weeks ago; I can’t believe he’d remember.
“Did I say that?” I say, feigning ignorance.
We stop near one of the nurse’s stations. “You did. Now, tell me, why you came looking for me,” he says with a teasing smile.
“I did not come looking for you.”
“No, you just came looking for the soda you don’t like, in the cafeteria you knew I’d likely be in.”
I give in. “Exactly.”
He smiles more genuinely, making me smile as well.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I just wanted to tell you I’ve been cleared. I don’t have to come back every day anymore… I’m even allowed to go back to school.” The words rush out of my mouth as I’m unable to contain the excitement. I swear Jesse’s eyes light up—the shadows lurking there disappearing. Now all I see is joy and excitement. Unexpectedly, he lifts me up and spins me around.
“Stop!” I shout, laughing as the room spins around me. “You’re spilling my drink.”
“I’ll clean it up later,” he says, his laughter warming me. For a second, I enjoy this moment; I enjoy seeing him excited and the fact that I’ve gotten a second chance at life. I also find myself reveling in the way his hands feel against my skin.
“Put me down!” I tell him when I realize we’re drawing an audience.
“Fine.” When my feet finally touch the ground, he says, “That’s amazing news, Zo.”
“It is.”
He’s just staring at me now, and I can tell he’s thinking about something. “Everything okay?” I ask once again.
He nods, and his hand goes to the back of his head. “I’m sorry about… you know, picking you up. I just… I’m really happy to hear you’ve been cleared.”
I tentatively bring my hand to his shoulder to show him I didn’t mind, I enjoyed it. “All good. I’m excited too!”
“So, you’re going back to school?”
“Yes. Dr. Roman says I can go back to living a ‘normal life’, and that includes school.”
“You’re coming to Bragan?” he asks.
I nod. “I’ll have to convince my parents, but yeah. If Bragan takes me back, I’ll start in September.”
“There’s no way Bragan will say no to you. Your parents won’t either. From what I’ve learned about you in the last few weeks, you’re a hard person to say no to.”
“Let’s hope so. I think I can convince my parents, but B.U. could say no to letting me return.”
“They’d better not. I’ll have an entire football team sitting in their office if they do,” he says with a wink.
“I’ll let you know so you’re ready to call for back-up.”
“Would you be living on campus?” Jesse asks eagerly as I lead him in the direction of the front desk, where I know my parents are probably waiting for me.
“One step at a time, Doc. I’ve gotta get my parents—mostly my dad—on board with letting me re-enroll. Then I can drop the living-on-campus part.”
I’m sure that’s going to go well.
“I’ll be living there too, remember. It’ll be like having a doctor on call.” I smile, but I can’t help wonder if we’ll still be friends when I start college. What if we return to school and he never talks to me again? I’ve gotten so used to having him around—so used to his friendship—that if it were to disappear, I don’t know how I’d feel.
“Think you can talk to my parents for me?” I ask jokingly as I push away my thoughts.
“If I’m honest, I’d rather not. I can help you move in though, when the time comes,” he says, playfully bumping into me.
I shove him back. “Wuss.”
“I can only imagine the things your dad would do to me.”
“Stop! It’s not a good image to have.”
“And your mom? She scares me. If I were to show up at your house, I’m sure she’d think I was getting ready to ask you to marry me.”
I chuckle nervously at the idea of marriage. “You’re not wrong. It’s probably better stay away from her, otherwise she’ll hunt you down and give you the ring herself.” I’m babbling—I know I am—and I snap my mouth shut, trying to ignore the sudden tension in the air.
When we arrive at reception, I find my mom waiting. “Anyway, I’ve got to head home. I’ll still have to come to the hospital twice a month, I think, and then it should be less once the semester starts.”
“Text me if you need anything.”
“I don’t have your number.”
“I gave it to you a while ago.”
“I may have tossed it out,” I lie. That piece of paper has been on top of my bureau, taunting me.
“Ouch,” he says, his hand going to his chest as if I’ve wounded him. “Give me your phone.”
I pretend to think about it. “Why?”
“I’m putting my number somewhere permanent,” he says. Relenting, I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and hand it to him. He punches in a few numbers and then returns the device to me. When I look at the screen, I let out a loud laughter.
“‘Good Doctor’? Really?” I ask, laughing at his choice of contact name.
“You’ve been calling me that for weeks already. It’s time we make it official.”
“I have not been calling you that. And you do know I can change it, right?”
“You won’t,” he says confidently.
“Want to try me?” I shoot back.
“I hope you don’t.” His tone is different now—unsure. “When’s your next appointment?”
I clear my throat. “Two weeks from now, but I could be wrong. After Dr. Roman said I could go back to school, I stopped listening.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Do you ever listen?”
“I take offense to that! I’ve been listening to your nonsense for weeks!”
“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy having me around.”
I do. More than he knows.
“You’re okay, Falcon.”
“You’re okay too, Evans.”
11
Getting Ready
Zoe
“So, you’re moving into which dorm again?” Jesse asks, sitting next to me in the hospital’s cafeteria.
“I’m moving into the one by the quad. New Dorm?”
He hands me an apple and grabs another for himself. “You’re aware it’s not called New Dorm, right?”
“What’s it called, then?” When I’d started college a few years ago, the dorm had been newly built. The students took to naming it New Dorm, and by the time someone made a large enough donation to get their name on the front, we’d already gotten used to calling it by its nickname. “See, you don’t even know!” I mock when he doesn’t answer.
“You’re right. I don’t know,” he says, laughing. “The incoming students will call it by its new name. Too late to fix the re
st of us,” he reasons with a smile.
“I thought it was never too late to fix things, Mr. Optimist.”
His eyes connect with mine before he says, “Most things can be fixed, some things can’t.”
“Anyway, if you’re going to continue being my friend, you’re going to have to accept the fact that I’m never wrong.” I point at his chest. “Anything—and everything— I say is gospel,” I tell him, pointing.
“Really? Is that so?” he questions, his hand inching closer to my own on the table. I look directly at it, willing him to touch me.
“Yes, sir,” I respond when I realize he’s waiting for me to answer.
“We’ll see.”
I take a bite of my apple. “Where are Thing 1 and Thing 2?” I cover my mouth when I realize I’ve said that out loud.
“Who are Things 1 and 2?” he asks.
“The two other interns.”
He grins. “Jeez, what did they do to earn those nicknames?”
I shrug. “I don’t know which one is which.”
“Lilly is the blonde; Marissa is the brunette,” he explains. “I think,” he adds, and I laugh.
“You don’t know which one is which either!” I celebrate silently the fact that I’m not the only one that can’t tell them apart. Or that’s what I tell myself. Really, I’m celebrating knowing that he hasn’t paid enough attention to tell them apart. Inside of me, the little girl with the silly school girl crush jumps up and down in excitement.
“I don’t know where they are—and I don’t really care. When do you move in? That’s what’s more important,” he says, making my cheeks heat.
“When does everyone move in?” I ask sarcastically.
“You really are a smartass. You do know that, right? When I first met you, I thought you were going to be nice.” He throws his finished apple into the trash can and looks back at me. “Boy, was I wrong.”
“When I first met you, I thought you were too young and good looking to be a doctor.”
Shit!
Did I just say that out loud?
Fighting For You (Bragan University Series Book 2) Page 6