Beyond The Roses

by Monica James

  A brunette is talking to her, but she doesn’t appear to listen because her gaze is riveted on me. I hurriedly avert my eyes, giving away my guilt. She knows something is askew.

  Using that as my driving force, I go the long way around, avoiding any possibility of bumping into her. I exhale loudly when I make it into the hallway unscathed.

  It’ll be okay. I give myself a pep talk as I head toward Roman’s office.

  The moment I knock on his door, he grants me permission to enter. He glances up at me from over his glasses. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” I shut the door behind me and notice he’s sitting behind his desk buried beneath a mountain of paperwork. “Are those my files?”

  He nods. “Yes. I had Dr. Carter’s office courier them overnight.”

  “All of them?” I ask in awe, pointing at the mass of files. He nods once again. “Wow. Just who are you in the medical world?”

  He smiles. “Please, take a seat.”

  I do as he asks and peer around nervously. It suddenly feels so clinical.

  His doctor mask slips into place as he opens a folder and reaches for a pen. “Okay, now, before we start, I’d like to run some blood tests, as it’s been a few months since labs were run. I know your vitals are good, so it’s really just the blood work we need before we begin.”

  I nod.

  “We can do that this morning if you like? Have you had breakfast?”

  I shake my head.

  “Good. I know Dr. Carter explained in detail what was expected with the previous trials, and I believe you did your own research since you contacted him originally.” Nothing slips past him. “I’d like to briefly give you a rundown of what these trials entail and what you can expect. They’re a little different from the previous one,” he explains, leaning back in his chair.

  I shift in my seat, my palms sweating.

  Toying with the pen between his fingers, he never wavers his gaze from mine. “You will be taking six kinds of medication, four times a week. There will also be an injection administered once a week with a higher dose of corticosteroids. There are no potent chemo drugs this time around, so you won’t lose your hair. However, the side effects in the reported cases seem to be a little more…” He pauses, searching for the right word.

  “Extreme,” he settles on, and I’m thankful for his honesty. “Once your time here comes to an end, I can still administer the trial. Nothing will change.”

  It’s so much to take in. “How about we cross that bridge once we get to it?” I don’t want to sound like a negative Nancy, but in my case, it’s best to be realistic.

  “Of course.” He sits forward, crossing his arms on the desk. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “I didn’t expect it to be,” I counter quickly.

  “And you still want to keep this between us? I’m sure June wouldn’t…”

  I nod animatedly, cutting him off. “Yes. No one can know. No one.”

  “You have my word. From what I’ve read, you will be able to live a relatively normal life during the trial period.” I cock a brow, amused. Roman reads my thoughts and amends. “Well, as normal as one can. I will be with you every step of the way. You can ask me anything.”

  My original question is still scratching away at the surface. Why is he doing this? But that can wait for now.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  “Nope.”

  “None at all?”

  “Nope,” I repeat.

  He is clearly surprised; it seems he was expecting twenty questions. “In that case”—he stands, adjusting his cherry red tie—“shall we?”

  I gulp for so many reasons.

  Pushing aside my nerves, I too rise and nervously head for the door.

  We walk down the hallway, headed for the small hospital room. There is a weighty silence between us. My mind is a million miles away, and all I can think about is how each step I take will change my life forever.

  I can only hope that change is for the better, because as ironic as this is, being surrounded by death has made me want to live. So much so, I will even endure the weekly injections.

  The horror must show on my face because Roman teases, “I swear, whatever you’re thinking, I didn’t do it.” Turning to look at him, I don’t hide my confusion. He smirks. “Whatever thought you were lost in didn’t appear to be a happy one.”

  My mouth forms an O. “Just thinking about all the needles headed my way.” I shudder at the thought.

  He nods in understanding. “No one likes getting jabbed with a needle. I’ll try my best to be gentle.”

  Peering down at his long fingers, I have no doubt he will. “You must think I’m a big crybaby.”

  “Nonsense. We all have our phobias.”

  His comment is my cue, one which I shouldn’t, but will take. “What’s yours?”

  I regret it the moment the words leave my lips because it is not only rude, but the hallway is filled with an immediate sense of uneasiness. I don’t have time to apologize, however, because June suddenly emerges from a doorway, perusing the file in her hand.

  When Roman sees her, he sighs under his breath, and his footsteps slow a fraction. I don’t have time to question his odd behavior because the moment June’s inquisitive gaze lands our way, I suddenly feel guilty for being caught.

  She has no idea what we’re doing, but regardless, her slightly narrowed eyes disclose her interest at seeing us together. My footsteps also slow as I’m in no hurry to get up close and personal with her suspicion.

  “Good morning,” she addresses us both.

  “Morning,” Roman replies, coming to a stop a few feet away.

  “Morning,” I repeat, my voice wavering.

  “Where are you two off to?” June’s innocent question isn’t accusing, but nonetheless, I feel like she’s probing.

  I look up at Roman, my cover almost certainly blown, but as usual, he’s as cool as cool can be. “I was just escorting Lola to the library. She tells me she’s most interested in scouring the net for the latest scandal.”

  I refrain from kicking him in the shin—only just. But his wisecrack eases my nerves.

  She smiles, but something is missing behind the gesture.

  “We’d best be going.” I’m certain he knows it’s on the tip of her tongue to ask what we’re up to, but he stays true to his word and keeps my secret safe.

  I’m caught in the middle of an invisible pull, and I instantly feel guilty for lying, and also for putting Roman in an awkward position. June is Roman’s boss, and the fact he is lying to her because of me makes me wonder if maybe I should disclose what I’ve decided to do. He can get into serious trouble for doing this.

  Roman’s synchronicity with my thoughts surprises me even though it shouldn’t because there has been a pull from day one. “Have a nice day, June.”

  He latches on to my bicep gently, dismissing June.

  However, she stops us. “Roman…” She peers down at his hand secured tightly around me. I attempt to shrink away, but he tightens his hold, causing my cheeks to heat. “Can you see me after you’re done?”

  I can feel the pulse thrum through his taut body. Does she know something is wrong?

  Just as I’m about to divulge it all, guilt eating away at my morals, Roman rubs his thumb over my skin, scoring my flesh with his tenderness.

  “Of course.” His assurance doesn’t go unnoticed by June, whose eyes are watching our every move—evident and masked.

  I feel beyond uncomfortable because the unspoken is leaving me with a serious case of paranoia. Roman doesn’t seem concerned and steers me around her, deadpanned and unmoved.

  We walk in silence, Roman as confident as usual, while I will my heart to calm down. I’m on autopilot as I follow him.

  He closes the door softly when we enter the medical room. “It’s okay. I won’t tell her.”

  “I’m not worried about that.” I massage my temples. “What if you get into trouble? I shouldn’t have asked you t
o do this.”

  “Lola—”

  But I don’t allow him to finish. “This was a bad idea. Not to mention, it is completely dishonest keeping this from June. She gave me this opportunity, and I thank her by lying to her.”

  “Lola—”

  “She’s been nothing but nice to me and—”

  This time, however, it’s Roman’s turn to interrupt me. Not by words but rather, touch.

  He’s before me, pressing his huge palms to my cheeks before I can register his hands are on me—again. “Just…stop.”

  My heart begins a steady staccato.

  “It’ll be okay…you’ll be okay. If we’re going to do this, you need to trust me. Do you trust me?” I watch the blue in his irises turn a sultry, inky gray.

  The pregnant pause is laced with anything but silence. “Yes.”

  And I do.

  The heat of his hands still pressed to my cheeks overthrows my constant chill. He searches every plane of my face, his touch turning softer. “Good. So stop worrying.” With a gentle stroke, he runs his thumbs along the apple of my cheeks before dropping his hands.

  His presence is almost suffocating as we stand inches apart. I need to put some distance between us before I implode. “Should we get started?”

  “Of course. Just take a seat on that bed”—he gestures with his head toward a curtained area—“and I’ll get everything I need.”

  As he makes his way toward the glass supply closet, I walk over to the white table and boost myself up. Peering around, I see this small room encompasses everything a doctor would need. No one likes hospitals, but June has done a fine job in steering away from the fact that this room is just that.

  Thoughts of June make me wonder what she wants to speak to Roman about.

  “Honestly, I can hear you thinking from over there.” My lips tip on their own accord. “Here’s a fun fact. We’re the same blood type.”

  Gingerly meeting his eyes, I appreciate that I can get lost in their blue depths because I need all the distraction I can get from the needle he holds. A cold sweat breaks out across my brow.

  Roman places the supplies on the stainless steel side table and slips on a pair of blue latex gloves. “It’s okay to be afraid. We all get scared sometimes.”

  As he reaches for the needle, I press my eyes shut and take shallow breaths through my nose. The alcoholic swab feels cold against the crease of my elbow. I need a diversion.

  “What scares you?” His fingers pause from preparing my arm.

  My question was very forward, and it was also very personal. I’m seconds away from apologizing but am surprised when Roman replies. “Not much scares me anymore.” His admission isn’t arrogant; it’s simply honest. “But in saying that, a few things still terrify me.”

  The moment I feel the tourniquet being secured to my upper arm, I squeeze my eyes together tighter.

  “Like what?” I ask through deep breaths.

  “Like global warming, and whether or not a copycat One Direction band is waiting in the wings.” A wavering laugh escapes me.

  He’s evasive on purpose, hiding behind his humor. I wonder why.

  A small prick penetrates my skin before my arm feels heavy, and heat scores the tips of my ears. I bite my lip and tell myself to calm down.

  “The things that scare me…are the invisible kind. What is seemingly harmless to most people is my worst nightmare come true,” he suddenly reveals.

  His heartfelt admission is what I need to focus on, not the needle currently being jabbed into my arm.

  “I can relate to that,” I divulge around a small intake of breath. “We all have our demons.”

  The walls suddenly close in on me, and I’m finding it hard to breathe for another reason other than what’s going on in the crease of my elbow. There is silence—only our heavy breathing filling the still room—but the unspoken is deafening.

  “The demons,” he declares softly, “they’re not out there, Lola. They’re in here…fighting to be free.” I hear two taps over what I’m guessing is his temple.

  My eyes pop open, uncaring that I’ll see blood, and needles, and more blood.

  This is the first time he’s confessed that something lurks beneath the surface. “What demons?”

  He secures a cotton ball and tape over the small puncture wound, indicating he’s finished, which was astonishingly fast. He was right, he was gentle, but my phobia has suddenly taken a back seat because I need to know what he meant.

  “Don’t you mean which?” he counters, snapping off his gloves.

  I purse my lips, confused. Are these demons the reason he takes medication? It makes sense. And which? That makes me think there is more than one.

  Roman is a conundrum.

  “All done.” He labels two vials, completely composed, while my brain is racing a million miles a minute. “The results should be here in a couple of days. I’ll let you know as soon as they arrive.” Why the sudden change of pace? Did he reveal something he wishes no one to know?

  But I couldn’t care less about the results. I want to talk more about him and his demons. “Roman…” He pauses, pen pressed to the white label. “I…if you ever need to talk, I’m here. No judgment. You’re doing me a huge favor. The least I can do is return it.” I’m extending an olive branch. I can only hope he takes it.

  “Thank you.” He appears genuine, but I can tell by the hard press of his lips that his secrets will remain under lock and key…for now.

  He turns his back and busies himself with cleaning up.

  Am I being dismissed?

  Just when I thought he was going to share a small piece of himself with me, he withdraws and leaves me wanting more.

  I jump down from the table, reading his body language loud and clear. Roman is a closed book, but with each moment we spend together, he reveals a small part of himself. The problem is that the more I see…the more I like.

  I want to ask so many questions, but I don’t. With his back still turned, I excuse myself.

  As I walk toward my sports class, I can’t help but wonder what happens when Roman’s demons meet mine.

  My insides warm.

  This can only lead to trouble.

  It’s been two days since I last saw Roman, and not a second has ticked by without him in my thoughts. I can’t stop thinking about his demons, and if they have anything to do with whomever Eleanor is.

  “Good morning.”

  His hoarse voice makes me forget everything but these inexplicable feelings I’m forming for him.

  “Good morning, Dr. Archibald,” Zoe singsongs, smirking at my sudden internal dilemma.

  He smiles before focusing his attention on Sadie. He turns tender. “How are you feeling today?”

  “Better,” she replies softly, nervously toying with her Monopoly piece.

  Their exchange piques my interest as her reply reveals that she’s been unwell—a fact I wasn’t even aware of.

  “Are you all right?” I ask gently, stroking her arm. She nods but lowers her eyes, giving herself away.

  I peer at Roman, who pulls in his lips, also reading her deception loud and clear.

  My stomach drops. What’s the matter with her?

  “Lola, do you have a minute?”

  I know what he wants to see me about, making my already frayed nerves snap. “Sure,” I reply, my voice heavy, plagued.

  Jumping from the stool, I focus my attention on Sadie. “Rain check? Tonight?”

  She nods, packing up the board game.

  Roman walks ahead of me, all businesslike, while I trail him, wishing he’d wait. I compare our usual strolls to this one. I understand he’s so aloof because we’re surrounded by people. I wonder what we do look like, though, when no one is around. He doesn’t mask his touches when we’re alone, and I like that.

  I like him.

  “Tell him,” subconscious Georgia says, but I’m quick to quash down her suggestion.

  He opens his office door, waiting for me to
enter first. I press past him, savoring his warm fragrance. Taking a seat, I wait for him to close us inside. Once he does, I exhale, happy we’re alone.

  As I wait for him to speak, I notice a signed Yankees baseball sitting in a small glass case on his desk. This is new. I wonder where it came from.

  “I’ve got your test results,” he leads with.

  “Okay.” I shuffle in my chair.

  My gaze is riveted on him as he rounds the desk and takes a seat in his leather chair. He steeples his long fingers, pressing the pointers to his lips, and watches me with a profound eye. I swallow nervously.

  “Everything is perfect. We can start as soon as you’re ready.”

  The words register, but my brain can’t seem to accept them as truth. “Wow,” I manage to choke out.

  A smile touches his lips before he opens his desk drawer. I watch with interest as he produces a sight that is all too familiar. Holding two orange medicine bottles, he reveals my fate in his hands. “You start with two of these yellow tablets.” He rattles the contents. “Then two of the red tablets tonight.”

  My attention is riveted to the bottles. The small pills inside look harmless enough, but I know better. They hold the key to my future. He places the bottles on the desk and slides them toward me.

  They sit between us—a monkey on my back.

  I’m faced with two choices. I either take them, or I don’t.

  Leaning forward slowly, I reach for the pills with quivering hands. They feel weightless in my palm.

  Unscrewing the lid, I dip a finger inside and pull out a single tablet. It barely covers the pad of my pointer. Holding it between my finger and thumb, I slowly raise it, hypnotized by the sight.

  This is the key—the literal key to a new chapter in my life. Either I can unlock it or I can throw it away.

  “I understand your reservations, but please know this is your choice. If you don’t wish to proceed, then forget this conversation ever took place.” Roman’s voice hums in the background as my attention remains glued to the pill. It glows. The light illuminates its importance.

  I could do that. I could forget this ever happened, that I ever had a second chance. Or I could…

  Roman’s gasp fills the room as I flick the pill into my mouth, tossing my head back and swallowing it in one smooth movement. It drags down my throat, the chalk taste making me gag, threatening to come back up, but I swallow twice, gulping it down.