Rain

by Cote, Christie

  He smiled at me, sat down on the floor next to me, and looked at the Legos that I had spread across the floor. I was trying to decide what I wanted to build. It had been years since I’d played with Legos.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling at him.

  “Trying to hide from me, are you?” he joked

  “Yup,” I responded, not really meaning it.

  “You didn’t do a very good job,” he teased, making me smile.

  “Just needed to escape my room.”

  He just nodded. He had known without my having to tell him.

  He started picking up Legos and putting them together, and I did the same. I wasn’t sure what I was building; I just started to connect pieces. I looked at his creation curiously. It was small and awkwardly shaped but had walls with greens, reds, yellows, and blues. It was quite a sight.

  “What are you building?” I asked.

  “A house,” he said like it should have been obvious.

  I raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Don’t quit your day job,” I teased.

  “My house is awesome,” he defended.

  “Your house is sad,” I laughed.

  He scowled at me, but the corner of his mouth was fighting a smile. “And yours is supposed to be…?”

  “Haven’t decided, but it will be epic,” I declared.

  “Right…” he said, unconvinced. “Well, since mine sucks and your…whatever it is”—he pointed at my mass of blocks—“isn’t any better, maybe we should start over and build a house together.”

  “Mine is awesome,” I said even though it was just a few blocks connected together amounting to nothing.

  He gave me a mischievous look before he grabbed my blocks and tore them apart.

  “Hey!” I screeched as I threw a Lego at him.

  He laughed, surprised, and threw one back at me. Laughing, I grabbed another one and received a look from a nurse mid throw, so I put it down. We were totally acting like children, but it was awesome. I sobered, trying to calm down, and he nudged me with his shoulder, his eyes dancing. Warmth spread over me. This was a good day, a good moment.

  Days like this didn’t come often. I was usually tethered to my bed, too sick to get up or be much fun when I had visitors, which usually only consisted of my parents, Liz, and Kyle now that Austin had stopped visiting.

  Thinking about him hurt. He hadn’t said anything. He’d just stopped coming—and stopped calling and texting me.

  Kyle nudged me again, this time looking at me with concern. I quickly smiled, assuring him I was okay before I knocked down his house.

  We made a huge Lego house—more like a mansion—under my guidance. It had alternating stripes of color instead of the random mix-and-match pattern Kyle had had going on before. There were different wings made evenly. We did well as a team, and I was impressed with our end result. So were the nurses.

  “Can I take a picture?” Nurse Michele asked.

  “Sure,” Kyle answered before I had a chance to. I usually refused to take pictures since I was sick.

  We sat behind our masterpiece. I leaned in closer to him, and he slid his arm around my lower back, which did not go unnoticed. My stomach fluttered as I smiled for the camera. A flash went off, and the moment was documented.

  “Could I get a copy of that?” I asked her.

  “Of course,” she told me, smiling warmly before she left us.

  “You just want a picture of me to stare at, don’t you?” Kyle smirked confidently, making me blush.

  Crap. Why did I ask for it in front of him?

  “No, I just want my epic house to be documented before it is torn apart,” I defended.

  “Your house?” He arched his eyebrow at me, crossing his arms.

  “Fine. Our house,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Although if I’d left it up to you it would look more like a deformed room that would probably give someone a seizure with all of the alternating colors without order.”

  “Ouch,” he said, giving me a mock hurt expression.

  I just rolled my eyes at him again when my parents walked in. They gave each other a look when they saw us, and I wondered what that had been about. They were used to Kyle being around by now—even my dad.

  “You must be feeling better,” Dad commented, and I saw some relief wash over both of them. It had been a while since I’d left my room.

  “I am,” I told them, smiling.

  Maybe I was getting better. Maybe I could go home soon.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  My good day was the calm before the storm. It was like the stories you hear about when a dying patient becomes really lucid and sounds and looks like they are improving right before they die. Maybe that was what was happening to me because now my head pounded and I felt like I had been run over by a Mack truck. Sometime this morning, my body started aching. A shiver rolled through me.

  “Mom, could I get another blanket?” I asked.

  “You are still cold?” she questioned with concern, worry lines appeared on her forehead.

  I nodded my head up and down and immediately regretted it when the pounding got worse. She placed her hand on my forehead, and the worry on her face increased.

  “You feel really warm.” she commented.

  “No, I’m cold,” I assured her, annoyed because all I wanted was a blanket.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She came back with a nurse in tow, but at least she’d brought the blanket. She checked my temperature and blood pressure and even took a blood sample. The nurse looked worried also.

  “I think you may have a cold,” she told us.

  I didn’t get why she looked so worried over a cold, although I’d never had a cold that felt like this before. Maybe it was a combination of the drugs and the possible cold. She left to find Dr. Arenstam, and I pulled the blankets close. An intense tiredness consumed me, and I gave up trying to keep my eyes open, deciding to sleep instead.

  ***

  “Taylor! Come on Taylor!”

  I heard my mom’s panicked voice come through the darkness, tears thick in her voice. I didn’t understand why she sounded so upset. I just wanted to sleep. I couldn’t bring myself to open my eyes, I was just so tired. My parents kept trying to get my attention, but their voices got farther and farther away until they were completely lost.

  ***

  “Is she okay?”

  I heard Kyle’s voice break through the black void I had seemed to have fallen into. I wanted to see him, but I couldn’t get out of the darkness. I felt like I was weighted down, and I thought a moan managed to pass my lips.

  “We need to get her to the ICU,” someone said.

  Why did I need to go to the ICU? I just needed sleep, didn’t I? I felt someone’s hand brush mine for a second, and then my bed was moving.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I felt something on my face, heard constant beeping, and felt something penetrate my skin, but it didn’t hurt. I heard movement all around me and wanted to see what was going on, but I still couldn’t open my eyes. They felt like they were glued shut.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Someone was holding my hand. It brought me comfort. I tried to squeeze their hand back, but my body didn’t want to respond to what my brain wanted it to do. It just wanted to fall back into the black abyss.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Come back to us, Taylor. We need you to wake up. Please wake up,” Mom pleaded.

  I’m right here. I’m awake! Would someone remove the damn glue on my eyes so I can show them please?

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I managed to pry my eyes open and regretted it once the light attacked them. I moaned, wanting the light to die.

  “Taylor?” a voice asked.

  “Too…bright,” my voice rasped, sounding like I hadn’t spoken in a year.

  “Try again,” the voice said.

  I slowly reopened my eyes, and this time the lights were off. I wasn’t in m
y room; this room was white and immaculate. The only things in the room were medical instruments. A nurse watched me and then began checking my vitals.

  “You are in the ICU. You have been very sick,” she told me.

  I noticed that I was hooked up to a monitor and an IV.

  “I’m going to page your doctor,” she informed me.

  I didn’t move or say anything. I still felt heavy and achy. I could also use some water before I tried to speak again. I was surprised that my parents weren’t with me.

  Before long, Dr. Arenstam was in the room smiling warmly at me.

  “Welcome back, Taylor,” she said.

  “Where have I been?” My voice cracked as I asked that, thinking she was crazy. I was pretty positive I hadn’t gone anywhere. I hadn’t moved from this bed.

  “Taylor, you have been unconscious for a week. You were extremely sick,” she told me as the nurse finally brought me water.

  I took a sip, the cool water bringing relief as soon as it entered my mouth and slid down my throat.

  “A week?” I asked, surprised. “I thought I just had a cold?”

  “A week,” she confirmed. “A simple cold can sometimes be deadly to someone on chemotherapy because the drugs hinder the immune system and it is harder for your body to fight back. Your body struggled and fought extremely hard, and with our help, you made it through it. We made your room sterile and had to limit who entered and how much so you were not exposed to any more germs.”

  Now my parents’ absence made sense.

  “When can I go back to my room?” I asked.

  “We just need to run a few more tests, but it looks like you are stable, so hopefully later today,” she told me, smiling.

  Then I was poked and prodded some more. I noticed more bruises scattered across my arms. I needed to start wearing long-sleeved shirts apparently. My arms were not appealing to look at anymore.

  A few hours passed before I was able to go back to my room, where I found my mom, dad, and—to my surprise—Kyle waiting for me as the nurse rolled me in. My heart did a little flip at seeing him. He was disheveled; his eyes were dark, and the skin underneath his eyes looked bruised. His hair was messier than normal, and he gave the impression that he had not slept in a long time. Even his clothes were wrinkled.

  His mouth drew into a full smile as he saw me, making my heart do another flip. I was so focused on him that I was oblivious to my poor parents, who were just as happy to see me. My priorities were clearly a little messed up.

  He stayed back as both of my parents rushed in front of him and hugged me. I still watched him as I let them embrace me. My mom was crying. She had definitely hit her crying quota for, like, ever.

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” she sobbed into me, and I felt my heart tear.

  “I’m okay, Mom.”

  “I was just so scared,” she continued, holding on to me like she was never going to let go.

  I knew she had been scared. I had heard her; I just hadn’t understood why. I could have died and I might not have even noticed. That was a bit unnerving. I knew I could die, but I thought I would be able to see it coming if it were to happen. Apparently I’d been very wrong and hadn’t been prepared for the realization of that uncertainty. Every time I went to sleep, I expected to be able to see my parents again; I was awaiting the next time Kyle and Liz would show up. These were the people who mattered to me, and I wasn’t ready to say goodbye—not yet. Now, knowing that it was possible that something could happen and I wouldn’t be aware that it was the last time terrified me. I didn’t know how to deal with that. If I said goodbye each night, they would probably freak out themselves. I hadn’t realized this could suck even more than it already did.

  “I love you,” I told my parents, emotion thick in my voice.

  “We love you too, sweetie.” Dad’s voice caught, tearing another piece of my heart. My heart would feel like it had been put through a shredder by the time this was over—if it were ever over.

  Mom pulled back and wiped her hand across her face to get rid of the tears before tugging at my dad. He looked confused, and I was a bit confused too, but my brain still felt foggy.

  “Come on. Let Kyle visit for a bit,” she told him, dragging him away from me and out of the room.

  My dad was shaking his head. “There is no arguing with your mom,” he chuckled as they exited the room.

  Kyle gave me a lazy smile as he made his way to me.

  “Hi,” I said softly once he reached me.

  “Hi,” he parroted back, his eyes glued to mine. He lifted his hand up, and it looked like he was going to reach for me, but then he froze and placed his hand on the side of my bed instead. Maybe I’d imagined it, but it had really looked like he’d wanted to touch me. Maybe it was because I wanted him to.

  “You look like how I feel,” I blurted out and then clamped my mouth shut. Why had I said that?

  He smirked and raised his eyebrow. “And how is that?”

  “Like crap,” I said softly.

  “Ouch. Is this what you say to all of the guys who come to visit you?”

  “Actually, yes,” I said more confidently.

  “Really…” He dragged out the word, and his eyebrow seemed to get even higher.

  “Considering you are the only one,” I finished.

  His eyes flickered darker and then softened again. “I was worried about you and may have been here for a while…” he admitted, glancing down at his black shoes. Then he peeked back up at me again, looking a little embarrassed.

  “Why?” I questioned, wondering also how long he had been here.

  He didn’t look like he knew how to answer. “We’re friends right?” he asked almost hesitantly.

  “Yeah.”

  “When my friends are in trouble, I’m there for them,” he said.

  Looking into his eyes, I believed it was more than that vague answer. He was holding something back, but I was too tired to fully analyze or try to push for more details. I still wished I knew what was going on behind those deep brown eyes of his.

  “Thanks,” I started, swallowing, “for being here.”

  “I’m really glad you are okay, Taylor,” he told me, smiling warmly.

  I wasn’t sure why, but tears threatened to spill when he said that. I sucked in a deep breath, pulled the little courage I could find, and wrapped my hand around the arm that still held the end of my bed, tugging him toward me. He looked confused.

  “I want a hug, but I can’t get up,” I admitted lamely.

  He leaned down over me and drew me to him carefully, encasing me in his arms. He rested his head against my neck, and I felt him relax and release tension that I hadn’t even noticed he’d had. My pulse sped up as I breathed him in, trying to keep his smell with me; I needed to find out what his cologne was one of these days.

  Now that I had him hugging me, I didn’t want to let him go. I relaxed into him, enjoying the feeling of his arms around me. I felt him move his hand, touching a piece of my hair. His steady, warm breath on my neck tickled, and I resisted giggling because I didn’t want him to move.

  Closing my eyes, I imagined that we weren’t in the hospital and that I wasn’t sick because then maybe this would have meant something more. My heart fluttered at thinking about the possibility. Oh boy, I had it bad.

  He set me back against the bed, but I was so lost in thought that I didn’t realize it had happened until he spoke.

  “Fall asleep on me?” He chuckled.

  My eyes flew open to him staring at me with a smirk on his face. Oh crap. “Huh? No… I’m just…tired,” I stammered. His smirk widened, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

  “I would volunteer as a pillow, but your dad might strangle me and he finally just stopped staring me down.”

  “True,” I laughed, still blushing. “You aren’t very comfortable anyways,” I teased. He just smirked, and his eyes danced. They were always so alive.

  “I better go and let you rest and let y
our parents have time with you,” he said as he gave me another hug, but this time he didn’t linger.

  I wanted to tell him not to go, but I knew he had a life outside of this hospital. A life full of motorcycles, music, and anything he wanted to do, and I couldn’t be part of it. I had never been so incredibly trapped before, and I felt like I had no life outside of these walls anymore. Anger built in my chest; this wasn’t fair! I wanted out of here. I wanted to be able to do things again and go a day without throwing up. I wanted to be able to make plans and get to know Kyle more outside of this hospital. My jaw clenched, and I wanted to yell in frustration.

  “Are you okay?” Kyle asked, concerned, and I looked at him again.

  “I want to be able to go,” my voice rasped.

  Sadness filled his eyes, and he stepped toward me again. “If you go, you won’t get better.” His voice came out smooth like liquid.

  “What if I don’t and the rest of my time is spent like this?”

  He sucked in a sharp breath, surprised by my question. He came closer and picked up my hand, holding it in his. It felt oddly familiar, even though this was the first time he had held my hand. There was not a hint of a smile on his face. It had fully softened, and he looked almost vulnerable—something I hadn’t seen in him.

  “Don’t give up, Taylor,” he whispered. “Please,” he pleaded like we had known each other longer than we had and it would matter a great deal to him if I died. It brought tears to my eyes; I hadn’t even been able to get a reaction like that out of Austin.

  I blinked, trying to push the tears away, but one escaped, running down my face. “Okay,” I whispered, my gaze never wavering from his.

  With his other hand, he brushed his fingers over my cheek, removing the tear. My breathing ceased, and I was caught up in his actions. I didn’t understand them, but it didn’t stop me from savoring the moment. He seemed to genuinely care, and I had never had a guy react like this toward me or look at me as intently as Kyle was looking at me now. If he was asking me not to give up, I wouldn’t. He could probably ask me to cluck like a chicken right now and I would probably do it. I would most likely be embarrassed later, but right now it wouldn’t have fazed me.