Love Always, Damian

by D. Nichole King

  “No, I haven’t yet.”

  He nods, pushes a hand through his hair. “I admitted Olivia today.”

  “Why? I thought she was doing well. Chemo was working.”

  “It is.” He hesitates. “Cancer is tricky, and I wish we had something other than chemotherapy to treat it. Chemo comes with its own set of complications. As you know, it weakens the immune system, and—”

  “Get to the point,” I interrupt because I have a feeling I know what’s coming, and I don’t need the back story.

  “Pneumonia.”

  Kate’s voice slams into my head with Dad’s diagnosis. She once told me cancer wouldn’t be the disease that killed her. That more than likely it would be something a healthy immune system could have fought off.

  And pneumonia? That’s what killed my Katie.

  “What are you going to do? Knock her out?” I ask, recalling his treatment for Kate when she had a virus.

  “I hope it doesn’t have to come to that. Olivia is young and on chemo for the first time. As of now, we’re going to push the antibiotics and wait it out.”

  “So, what are her chances for recovery?” I ask.

  Dad rubs his chin. “At this stage, fifty-fifty.”

  ~*~

  I have to see Olivia for myself.

  I wander down the hall. Room 324 is at the far end of the corridor. Her parents are probably in there, and I’m not sure what I’ll say. I knock, though, and wait.

  The door opens, and a tiny woman with bags under her eyes opens the door. She squints at me.

  “Hi. Uh, I wanted to check on Olivia,” I say. “How is she?”

  The woman opens the door wider. “She’s asleep right now. The nurse was just in here, though, and took her vitals.”

  “Oh, I’m not a nurse. I—” I stop myself and take a different approach. “Did Olivia ever mention a little girl she played with during treatments here? Lia?”

  Recognition lights her face, and she smiles. “Yes. Olivia talks about Lia all the time.”

  “I’m Lia’s dad.” Funny how that came out so easily.

  “Dr. Lowell’s son, right?” she says. “The one who suggested Olivia keep a picture journal?”

  I scratch my head, impressed. “Spot on.”

  “Thank you for that. The journal has helped my daughter so much. And I appreciate Lia’s friendship as well. Olivia was upset when she didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”

  “There was a family emergency, and she had to go back to Florida with her mother.” It’s not a lie, but I hate the situation so much the truth feels like lead in my mouth.

  “That’s too bad. I hope everything’s all right.”

  “Yeah,” I respond so it’s not awkward.

  “Well, Olivia’s been waking up every few hours. I’m sure she’d like to see you.”

  “I’ll be back. Thanks.”

  When I leave, I don’t go back to work, to the list of stuff Leslie has for me today. I have too much on my mind. I need to get away for a few minutes and figure out my next move.

  The cafeteria downstairs is dead at this time of day. The breakfast crowd is gone, and it’s too early for lunch. There’re only a few hospital personnel scattered throughout the room. I pour myself some coffee and sit as far from people as I can.

  I dig out my phone and stare at the picture of Lia wallpapered on the screen. Her big chocolate milk grin never fails to make me smile. I hate that I haven’t seen the real thing in over five months. Hell, I haven’t even talked to her.

  In my contacts, I find Ellie’s number—it’s at the top of the list. Ellie’s coy little smile teases me, and I’d give anything to feel those lips on mine. Somehow, I have to get through to her.

  My finger hovers over the green button. She hung up on me last time, so my guess is she won’t answer if I call. I decide to shoot her a text.

  Lia’s friend, Olivia, is in the hospital. She has pneumonia. Thought you’d want to know.

  I wait, sipping on my coffee, for fifteen minutes.

  Ellie doesn’t text back.

  ~*~

  On my way back to the third floor, I pick up a bouquet of flowers from the gift shop. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that, and I hope I never have to do it again. Not from a hospital. Not for this reason.

  I check in on Olivia again a couple hours later. She’s awake. Though her eyes are heavy with sleep, she offers a smile when I set the lilies next to her bed. The resemblance between her pale skin and Kate’s at this stage is striking, and I have to force back the image.

  “Hey, kiddo,” I say.

  Olivia points to the corkboard behind me. “There,” she says. “For Lia.” Her voice is weak, and it’s probably taking a lot of energy for her to speak.

  Pinned in the center is a picture of Lia’s favorite pony. Multi-colored, hand-drawn hearts circle Twilight Sparkle, filling up the page. A message to Lia is scrawled out on the bottom.

  “This is beautiful, Olivia,” I tell her.

  “Mom…helped,” she answers. “With the words. Tell her thank…you for me.” Olivia nods at the notebook I bought her, laying on the table at her head. “Open it.”

  I flip through the pictures. The first is of a house. A big sun in the sky, birds in the trees, flowers in the beds out front, a swing set, and Olivia and two friends with huge smiles on their faces. I turn the page. Storm clouds roll in and cover the sun. Rain falls in around the house, and Olivia now lies on the grass, curled into the fetal position. Her friends are kneeling beside her.

  On the next page, the sky is colored black. The house is on fire. Olivia is alone, her friends’ feet are barely on the edge of the paper.

  A lump forms in my throat, and I look at Olivia on the hospital bed. She nods for me to continue, so I do.

  This picture is of a doctor’s office. Dad stands in front of Olivia, frowning. Tears spill from Olivia’s eyes.

  The next is Olivia sitting alone in The Commons, her arms over her head. The walls are red with yellow eyes drawn on them.

  “You’re scared?” I ask, showing the drawing to Olivia.

  She nods. “All the time.”

  Olivia drew her parents on the adjacent page. Her mother has a puddle of tears at her feet, and Olivia’s dad is yelling. A large bolt of lightning rips down between them.

  The next picture, I recognize because I’m in it. She drew The Commons again, but the red walls aren’t as red, and there are fewer angry yellow eyes. It’s the day we first met.

  And then I turn the page and see Lia giving one of her ponies to Olivia. It’s the only picture since the first that Olivia drew herself with a smile. That’s not all I notice, though. In this one, the walls are a dull pink with only one set of eyes.

  “And here? You’re not scared anymore?” I ask.

  Olivia takes a second before she answers. “I was always scared then. But less when I wasn’t alone.”

  “Your mom was here,” I remind her.

  “Yes, but…” Olivia shrugs, and I think I understand. Kate said once that those around her could support her, but they’re not the ones who have to fight.

  “Cancer isolates you, makes you feel you’re alone, right?” I say, and Olivia nods. “You’re not alone, okay? Don’t ever think you’re alone.”

  Olivia nods again, but she doesn’t look at me. I set the notebook back on the table.

  “I’ll make sure Lia gets this,” I say, holding up the picture of Twilight Sparkle.

  “Thank you.”

  Her eyelids drop, signaling her meds kicking in. I walk backwards to the door as I watch her doze off, her little bald head falling to one side.

  I watch her for a full minute. Half of that time I don’t see Olivia lying there; I see Kate. How even in this state, she radiated courage, strength, and hope.

  Back when I took Lia to the cemetery, I’d thought about how much I wanted Lia to be like that too—to have those same qualities. But now, I realize she already does. My little girl gave Olivia compassi
on when she needed it most. And she didn’t get that from me. No—

  That came from her mother.

  Chapter 34

  Damian

  Ellie and Lia weren’t on the flight. I waited for over an hour, spoke with the airline—and called Ellie’s cell.

  No answer.

  I drive home, pull out a bottle of whiskey, and don’t bother with a glass. I uncork the cap and knock some back. Behind me, the door opens, but I have to look to know it’s Dylan.

  “You’re here,” he says, and I can’t decide if it’s a question or not.

  “Yep.”

  “They didn’t show.” Again, I’m not sure if he’s asking, but I answer like he did.

  “Nope,” I say, and gulp down a large swash of amber.

  “Dude, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “Here.” Dylan tosses today’s mail in front of me. On top is an envelope with my name on it, from the AAMC.

  “MCAT scores,” Dylan says, grinning like an idiot.

  “You opened yours?”

  Dylan’s big-ass grin widens. “Thirty-three, man. Eighty-fifth percentile.”

  I pick mine up and rip it open. I could use some good news today, and a high score coupled with my almost perfect GPA would mean I could enroll in any medical school in the country…which is good, because I have one in mind—south of here.

  Oh, and, a higher score than Dylan’s would wipe that too-happy smile right off his face.

  I flip the paper over. Stare at the score and about shit myself. I throw back another drink and look again to be sure.

  Son of a bitch.

  Impatient, Dylan yanks the mail from me and examines it. Then it registers. “Holy. Fuck. Dude. Thirty-nine? That’s top one percent, man!”

  I’m speechless.

  “Oh come on, Damian. This calls for a celebration,” Dylan says.

  I agree with him. Except I’d hoped to be celebrating with someone who’s not my roommate. Had Ellie boarded that plan like she was supposed to, this moment would belong to the two of us. Hell, the three of us, including Lia.

  Now, though, I’m not in the mood.

  “You go ahead,” I say.

  “A kick-ass score like that and you want to mope around?”

  “Who said anything about moping?”

  Dylan holds up the bottle of T. Rye. “I know you. Besides, tomorrow is Christmas Eve, so The Underground will be packed tonight. Let’s go, have a few drinks—”

  “And get laid?” I finish, smirking.

  “Yeah, that worked out real well last time, right?”

  I’d meant him since he never brings home chicks, but I can see how he’d boomerang that back at me. Fair enough.

  “Do you want Ellie or not?” he asks.

  “Dude, I don’t know what more I can do. I hate to give up, but what other option do I have? She won’t even talk to me.”

  “You know you deserve her silence.”

  “Not the point.”

  Dylan crosses his arms. The damn therapist is about to emerge again, though I guess I asked for it. “Quick question—you don’t even have to answer—then we get out of here. Deal?”

  “Ask away, Doc.”

  “Have you considered what all this has cost Ellie? ’Cause from where I’m standing, man, there’s so much shit going on, even I’m dizzy. I get that you’re pissed because Ellie’s leaving you high and dry, but put yourself in her shoes. Lia is all she has and leaving her here with you for eight weeks was probably the hardest thing she’s ever done. I’m not going to sugarcoat it: you’re reckless, Damian, and Ellie knows you as well as I do. Maybe better. What she did—putting her trust in you for the summer with the most important thing she has—took a lot of fucking faith. And then you go and lose Lia at a mall. If I were her, I’d be asking myself why the hell I agreed to let her stay. Mix that in with the history you two share, it’s no wonder she’s giving you the cold shoulder, dude. It’s clear you guys share a whole lot more than just a daughter. So, now ask yourself: What are you going to do about it?”

  Dylan’s brows lift as if he’s waiting for the light to flip on in my head.

  It doesn’t, though, because I have no answers.

  I grab my keys from the counter. “That was more than one question, Dr. Phil. Let’s go.”

  ~*~

  The Underground is alive. Partiers are dressed for spring break in Cancun instead of Iowa in the dead of winter. I’m cool with that. The more skin, the better, and the ladies tonight are showing a lot of it.

  Dylan’s on the dance floor, living it up. I gotta give him credit, the dude has moves, and the girls go crazy over him. He won’t bite, though. Not until he’s sure his ex is out of his head.

  That’s where we’re different.

  We’ve been here a while now, and I realize I haven’t drank enough to even notice. Actually, I’m still nursing the beer I ordered an hour ago.

  “Hey, baby,” some girl says, leaning up against the counter. Dark hair falls across her eyes, and she sweeps it away. “You look lonely. Want some company?”

  Pouty red lips curve up in a sexy little smirk. She rolls the tip of her tongue over the bottom one as her gaze drifts over me, and she moves closer.

  Normally this sort of thing turns me on so fast I’m ready to usher her out the door before she even finishes her line. I mean, the round swell of her breasts over the top of the strapless corset thing she’s wearing is enough to drive any sane man crazy, but I’m not feeling it tonight. I only came because of Dylan.

  I shake my head. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Ah, come on. One dance and one drink?” As she says it, she walks two fingers up my thigh. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret it.”

  “Not interested.”

  I snicker to myself. I have no doubt she’d do what she promises; I’m just surprised I’m saying no.

  She backs away, scoffing. “Your loss.”

  I don’t even watch her walk away. I guess I’m not in the mood to wipe Ellie from my thoughts.

  This is nuts and so not me. I’m turning into a fucking celibate here. All for a girl who’s a thousand miles away and wants nothing to do with me.

  I suck down a drink and sigh.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I mutter.

  The answer comes easily, and I blame the psycho bullshit Dylan smacked me with before we left. It all happened so fast. Finding out about Lia, her staying with me, feelings for Ellie surfacing, etcetera, etcetera. It was a whirlwind of crap I never expected to deal with, and now I have no choice. They’re in front of me, staring me down like the silence in my car on the drive back from the airport earlier today.

  It’s deafening, and I’m neck deep. If I can’t figure everything out soon, I’ll suffocate. I need to get out of here. Go for a drive and clear my head.

  I leave my half-drunk beer on the counter and push through the crowd. Outside, I slide into my car and take off.

  It’s not until I’m there that I realize where I am. I’ve only been out here a few of times, all of them with Liam. The neighborhood is more run down than I remember. All the houses have worn paint, half-hung shutters, and gutters that needed to be replaced fifteen years ago. Rusted vehicles sit in driveways and front yards.

  I slow down and stop against the curb. A couple houses down is a tiny white house with crooked green shutters. One strand of red Christmas lights frames the front door, and a wreath hangs in the middle.

  It’s where Ellie grew up. Where her parents still live.

  I’m not sure why I came here. Maybe to see if Ellie took an earlier or later flight and is spending Christmas with her family, but the only car in the driveway is Ellie’s mom’s twenty year old Dodge, and they don’t have a garage.

  Dylan’s questions circle through my mind again. If Lia weren’t part of the picture, would I be sitting here, wishing Ellie was inside?

  Funny thing is, I’m upset. And I’m here. Not at the cemetery.

  ~*~<
br />
  Ellie

  It’s Christmas morning, and everything about it feels wrong. Blake’s not here like he’s been the last four years. He’s spending the day with his new girlfriend at her place. But that’s not what gets me.

  I’m happy for Blake. More than that, he’s happy. I’m not, though. I’m miserable.

  I wanted this year to be different. I wanted to finally be able to leave my past behind and forget it ever happened. Instead, the past is all I’ve been able to think about.

  Damian in bed with some girl—

  Who wasn’t me.

  I should have heard him out at least. He deserved that much from me, right?

  But pride and pain got in the way, and I couldn’t listen any more. I’m so tired of my own silence, Damian’s excuses, and this tornado of bull we created that doesn’t matter.

  I sip coffee as I watch Lia shovel her breakfast in her mouth and eye the presents under the tree as if at any moment they’ll sprout legs and walk away.

  “All done,” she says, her cheeks stuffed full of cheerios.

  “Swallow.”

  She inhales deep through her nose and chews her cereal the best she can. I’m afraid she’s going to choke and everything’s going to fly out at top speed.

  Finally, she sweeps her sleeve across her face. “Swallowed. Now can we open presents? Pleeeeeeeeease?”

  Her adorable pleading eyes don’t faze me. Much. But then she bats her eyelashes, and she knows she has me.

  “Let’s go,” I say, standing up and grabbing my coffee.

  Lia sprints the ten feet between the table and the Christmas tree. She plops down on the floor and rubs her little hands together like a maniacal super villain.

  I get comfortable on the sofa, curl my legs under me. “Have at it, Lia.”

  “Yessssss!” she hisses out then grabs the package closest to her. The ones I bought her are wrapped in My Little Pony paper. She also has one under there from my parents and a couple from Blake.

  When she’s finished, she’s surrounded by new books, clothes, and toys. Her hoard will keep her busy the rest of the day.