by Jill Patten
“My wife. Your nurse.” His face lights up and a big smile beams on his face.
“Oh shit,” I mumble. “I’m sorry?” I wince, not exactly looking him in the eye.
He turns back to his laptop, laughing.
“Are you serious? Are you pulling my leg?” Hell, I can’t make heads or tails if he’s messing with me.
He walks over to me still chuckling and pulls his stethoscope from around his neck to listen to my pathetic lungs. “I’m serious. Ask her. You know the drill.”
And I do. I’ve been doing this same routine for so long I can do it in my sleep. I inhale deeply in hopes of making my lungs sound stronger than they really are, then I exhale. He shifts the cold metal over my shirt. “Again.”
After he finishes listening to me wheeze, I ask, “So why does she walk around with a hardened exterior? Is she trying to fool people into believing she’s some kind of badass?”
He smiles. “Something like that. She has the tendency of getting attached to patients, so in order to keep her heart from getting broken over and over again, she builds a wall around her. Cuts off the likelihood of forming a bond.”
I can relate. Dr. Z’s words ring true. From the moment they diagnosed me with pulmonary fibrosis, I cut myself off from everyone around me—friends, boyfriends, coworkers, classmates, you name it. Realizing I needed my parents and my best friends, I pulled them back into my tiny circle, but everyone else became a distant memory.
Meeting Blue opened up a window of possibilities. He hurt me, but he also showed me how to have fun again outside the comfort of my bubble. As the old saying goes, everything happens for a reason. Maybe meeting Molly and Blue is my sign to date again. To stop being scared of what could happen and just let it happen. I can face the consequences when they happen. If they happen.
Much to my relief, my doctor visit ends with a clean checkup. Nothing new to report. He says to keep doing what I’m doing, and that my brief blackout was probably just the result of overexerting myself in the heat.
It’s going to be interesting to walk on campus with a new pair of eyes. For the first time since I’ve started attending our local community college, I’ll be scoping out all the hot guys.
The decision’s been made. I’m going on a date.
BLUE
My time at the children’s home has increased since spring break. I feel guilty every time I show up empty-handed. They never say anything about it, and I know they value the time I’m there, but still. The worst part is not having the extra twenty here and there to give to Marcus. He’s never asked me about it and is always happy when we do things together, but he’s still a typical teenager, and kids love money. Especially ones who never have any.
If only there was another way, a legal way to continue giving back to my community. Well, I know one option, but I can’t go there. It’s really not an option at all.
Speaking of money, it’s hard to believe it’s been a month since Phoebe left. I still think about her every fucking day. Maybe once I pay my debt, I’ll be able to clear her from my mind. Who am I kidding? I don’t know if I’ll ever stop thinking about her. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to surf again without the waves reminding me of how we were brought closer together. If not for her spill into the warm ocean, I would’ve never known the beauty that’s hidden beneath the outside of her glorious body.
I’ve tried like a motherfucker to save up the money to repay her, but it’s just not there. My hands are tied at this point and it leaves me with one last option.
Me: Hey, you busy?
Molly: What’s up?
Me: Come meet me for tacos
Molly: Give me 10
I head over to Raul’s and put our order in so it’ll be ready by the time Molly shows up.
“What’s up, my man?” Raul reaches across the opening to his mobile shack to give me a fist bump. “I haven’t seen you around in a while. What’s been going on in your world?”
“Ah, not much, just doing my usual—work, surf, repeat. More working than anything.” I don’t even have to tell him my order; he knows what my usual is. “Molly’s joining me,” I say so that he knows what to add to my order.
He steps away from the opening and gets busy with my tacos. “So, what’s got you working so hard?” he asks as he piles spoonfuls of the best Mexican rice in town into a paper tray.
“Just trying to earn some extra cash.” Normally I’m upfront and honest with Raul, but I don’t feel like telling him about what happened between Phoebe and me. When I say it out loud, it makes it sound so much worse than what it is. At least that’s what I tell myself. Besides, I don’t want him to get the wrong impression of who I am.
He sets the rice and tacos on a red tray then goes back to grab our bottled drinks. “So how did things turn out with the cute blonde your sister brought over here that day? Did she tell you to get lost or did she feel sorry for you?” He starts laughing at himself. He loves it when girls reject me. He says it shrinks my ever-growing ego.
“Dude.” I give him a serious glare. “Can you not see how swollen my head is? What the hell do you think? She loved me!” I shout, over-exaggerating just a little bit. No need for him to know she wants nothing to do with me ever again. I’ll keep that embarrassing secret hidden under my tongue.
“Get your sorry white ass over there and feed your sister,” he says, placing the rest of my order on the tray. I look over my shoulder and see Molly sitting at our usual table.
Pulling my wallet out of my back pocket, I pull a few bills out and slap them on the metal surface. “Keep the change…sir.” I snatch the tray before he can take a swing at me and jet across the warm pavement.
“That’s right, you better run, you little punk. Remember, I’m old enough to be your daddy and I’ll whoop your ass like one too,” he yells across the way, smiling the entire time.
Molly raises her head from her phone when she hears me approach her. “Poor Raul, he always gets harassed by you,” she says, shaking her head, smiling.
“Poor Raul my ass. He likes getting it as much as he does giving it, and that’s a whole damn lot.”
I don’t waste any time making conversation. I have half a taco finished off before Molly picks up her burrito to take a bite. We sit in comfortable silence while we enjoy our lunch.
Molly watches me as I wipe my mouth with a napkin and then take a long sip of my soda.
“I guess you’re wondering what I want?” I ask.
She nods as she chews.
“I need a favor from you.” I pause, waiting for a reaction. When I don’t get one, I continue. “I need to borrow five hundred bucks.”
She nods as if she’s been expecting me to ask this of her.
“So are you nodding yes to you’ll lend it to me or are you just nodding because you knew this was coming?”
She wipes the corner of her mouth. “I’m nodding because I’ve been waiting for you to come to me. What took you so long?” She takes another big bite of her burrito.
“You know how much I hate asking you, right?”
She nods again.
“I thought I might be able to do it on my own, but I just don’t have the extra cash. I mean, I can do it, but it’ll take me a lot longer. It’s been a month.” I run my hand through my hair to brush it out of my eyes. “That’s four weeks too long. I’d rather owe money to you than her.”
“You know if Dad knew I was handing over money, including what I made while working as a lifeguard during spring break instead of at the office, to you he’d shoot us both?”
“Fuck him. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” And I know our exchange will remain between us and no one else. “You should quit anyway and go back to being a lifeguard full-time. Let him take care of his own shit, and then maybe he’ll realize he should’ve been teaching you how to run the company.”
She brushes past my snide remark. Even though Molly is a daddy’s girl, he’s still a male chauvinist pig when it comes to the company.
Molly is more than capable of taking over King Construction Group in the future, but Wade only shows her just enough to get by. And the bastard would rather let it fall into the hands of a stranger than allow a woman run his business. She’s more forgiving than I can ever be.
“I’ll loan it to you without interest, but how are you going to give it to her?”
Rubbing my eyebrows with my forefinger and thumb, I try to erase the tension forming above my eyes. “I don’t know,” I groan. “What I wouldn’t give to hand deliver it to her…to see her again,” I say, staring at Molly. I’ve been able to save nearly enough to fly up, but I haven’t figured out the rest of the details yet. It’s ridiculous how much I miss her. Other than Molly, I’ve never cared what people thought of me, but with Phoebe it’s different. Her opinion matters to me. The thought of her hating me and thinking I’m a piece of shit nearly kills me. I’m so disgusted with myself and what I’ve done to her.
“Don’t look at me. I’m doing my part by loaning you the cash. The rest is up to you to fix. You got yourself in this shit, you’re gonna have to figure out how to get yourself out.” Molly has come to my rescue so many times in the past, it’s a wonder she’s willing to do anything for me anymore. “I can’t even text the girl because of you. I want to see how she’s doing, but I can’t because I don’t want her thinking I’m doing it on your behalf,” she fusses.
“I’m sorry.” What else can I say? Like Phoebe said, I’m a bastard. I deserve the vile words and names she called me.
“How do you think she’d react if I paid her a visit?” I ask.
“Do you even know where she lives or have you stalked her so much that you’ve dug up that type of extensive information?”
“I have friends.” Nate is excellent on a computer.
Her dissatisfaction with my response is evident when she rolls her eyes.
She places her hand over mine. “Don’t. Just send it to her. You don’t have to hand deliver it.” She stares at me, knowing my mind is already made. “Lance, I know you feel something special with her, but you’ve got to let it go. You’re worlds apart. It was a one-week rendezvous, that’s all.” She gazes at me with sadness. Her bright blue eyes silently say ‘I’m sorry.’
With a quick jerk, I slide my hand out from underneath hers and shake my head. “You don’t know what’s in here,” I argue, placing my hand over my heart. “She took something in here back to Pennsylvania with her.” My voice drops to nearly a whisper. “I need her.”
Molly wads up her napkin in her hand then tosses it onto the tray. “Lance, you can’t fall for a girl in that short of a time. Insta-love only happens in romance novels.”
“I never said I loved her,” I bite back. “But I do have a strong pull to her. There’s something special there. She’s good for me. She makes me look at things differently without even trying.” I pause to swipe my unruly hair from my eyes again. “How do you let someone go without ever knowing what could be? What if she’s worth a lifetime of happiness? Don’t I deserve that? Don’t I deserve to know?”
“Where’s my brother? What have you done to the Lance I know?” she jokes.
My sense of humor is dormant. “I’m serious, Molly.”
“Sorry,” she whispers. “You’ve really got it bad. Apparently things got pretty deep with you guys. What’s the real story with you two? Fill in the blanks.”
“I can’t. That’s her story to tell, not mine.”
“Well, you know I’m here if or when you need me.” Her plastic chair scrapes against the pavement, and I look up. “I’ll help you any way I can, but I’m not enabling you so you can screw with her head more.” She has the tray in her hand and walks over to a garbage can to throw our trash away. She takes the tray over to Raul and says something to him I can’t hear then walks back over to me.
She leans down and kisses me on the cheek. “Sorry to run on you, but I’m meeting Trina at the gym in a little bit. We have a little competition thing going on, and I can’t let her beat me. Anyway, I’ll get the money to you later today if that’s okay.” She rushes through her words as she grabs her wallet, phone, and keys from the table.
“That’s fine.” I stand up and straighten my shirt. “Tell Trina I said hey, and thank you again for saving me. One of these days I’ll act more like the older brother you deserve. I’ll rescue you from some kind of fuck up. You can’t stay perfect forever, you know.” I laugh.
She shakes her head. “You’re a mess, Lance King,” she shouts as she walks to her car.
PHOEBE
“Jumping into the dating world again isn’t quite the experience I hoped for. Either the guy is too self-absorbed, or he’s too busy worrying about the next frat party than his career, or he’s just flat out disgusting. Discreetly picking your nose every time you think I’m not looking isn’t exactly my ideal person.”
Kristy’s laughter comes through the receiver so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear.
“I’m glad you find boogers so funny.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just you caught me off guard,” Kristy chirps, still giggling.
Trying to remain the adult in our conversation, I continue on. “And, so what if I’ve only been on three dates and they’ve all been bad experiences? It’s not going to stop me from going on my fourth one tonight.”
“I swear, Phoebe, if I didn’t already have a prior commitment, I would drag one of our guy friends and make him go with me on a double date.”
“It’s okay. With three strikeouts, this date is bound to be the homerun. And besides, if you were with me, I might not get the chance to play around.”
“Damn, girl, you’ve already made plans to have sex?”
“No, but I’m keeping my options open. A girl has needs too. You know that better than anyone.”
She laughs again. “Yes, I do. Look, I’ve got to go, but you better text me later and let me know how it goes.”
“Sure thing, chica.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up.
Kristy and Tiffanny have been buried in homework since we started back after spring break, and I’m missing them like crazy. Since we go to different colleges, I don’t get to see them as often as I’d like. We’ve managed this long. I guess we’ll survive until we graduate. That is, unless we find suitable jobs, create families, and drift apart like so many high school best friends do.
After graduation, the three of us knew we’d end up in different schools. I can’t afford to attend La Salle University, so I’m stuck at our local community college. It’s good enough for me, but it sucks being separated from my two best friends. We always have the summers, though, to make up for lost time.
I slip on my navy blue wedge sandals to finish off my outfit for tonight then walk out the door.
Mom is working in her flower bed in front of the house. She has a green thumb that can grow any type of plant you place in front of her. Her gift amazes me.
Opting to not walk on the grass and get my sandals dirty, I stay put on the concrete walkway leading to our driveway. “Bye, Mom,” I say, waving my hand to her.
She looks up with dirt swiped across her cheek. “Where’re you going, honey?”
“Another date. Wish me luck.” I chuckle, giving her a slight grin.
“Uh, well, good luck,” she says, wiping a gloved hand over her nose, leaving another mark of dirt.
I laugh at her childlike face as I walk to my car.
“Oh, and you look pretty,” she adds, yelling the last part as I open my car door.
“Thanks, Mom,” I shout back.
If there’s one thing stable in my life it’s my parents. They deem me their miracle baby after my mother suffered through numerous miscarriages and fertility treatments before she had me. I’m the only one out of four who survived her pregnancy. My would-be siblings never made it past the first trimester.
When we all found out about my pulmonary fibrosis, it nearly tore my parents apart. I’ve never seen them so heartbroken. A
t the time, I didn’t quite understand just how fatal my disease was until I got to the point where I couldn’t breathe, even with the prednisone. Since then we’ve tried every possible treatment. That’s when the doctors decided to try me on Cyclophosphamide, which caused my hair to fall out. It’s been a while since they took me off of it, and so far, things haven’t been too bad. With the help of my oxygen inhaler, I’m hoping it stays that way. My hair has grown maybe an inch more since spring break, and I’m on the waiting list for a lung transplant. All in all, things are looking up.
Ross, my date for the night, is already waiting for me when I enter the restaurant. He spots me before I see him, and he looks completely different from what I’m used to. At school he’s usually dressed in basketball shorts and T-shirts…all year long. No matter how cold it gets, he refuses to wear pants. Tonight, he’s dressed in khaki shorts and a red/white checkered button-up shirt. The sleeves are rolled up midway on his forearms, and for some odd reason I’m just now noticing the thick veins lined along his defined muscles. He’s much hotter than I’ve ever given him credit for.
“Hi, Phoebe,” he says as he approaches me for a hug. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks, you look nice yourself. I wasn’t sure you owned anything outside of the athletic apparel at Dicks.” I laugh, feeling comfortable with him. We’ve joked around from time to time at school, so I know he’s an easygoing guy.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d appreciate me showing up looking like I just left the gym. These aren’t that bad,” he says, pulling on the side of his shorts. “But this shirt is making me feel constricted.”
We’re seated in the middle of the crowded restaurant. The place is loud, which makes it hard for us to carry on a decent conversation. When I see Ross pick up his phone, my first thoughts are he’s bored with me already, but when my phone lights up with a text from him, I’m happy to find out I’m wrong.
Ross: Looks like I picked the wrong restaurant. Sorry.
Me: No worries. As long as the food is good, I’ll forgive you.
