by B. A. Wolfe
Her face lit up and I knew I’d do anything to see that look again. It was my new mission. It was also a welcomed distraction from my less than normal life.
“Yes and yes. I’m so ready to get out of here. I have my luggage already behind me.”
Did I hear her right? She actually said yes? Without waiting another second for her to change her mind, I unfolded my arms and darted for the stairs. “Stay there. I’ll come grab it for you.”
“No need, I walk fast. Let’s just get the hell out of here, please.” She was almost in a full on sprint as she made her way to me.
My hand grazed the top of hers as I reached for her luggage. I couldn’t help myself. But when her eyes snapped to mine and she swallowed hard, I knew she felt something too. I wasn’t sure what she was doing to me. It was almost as if she was bringing me back to life.
I set her luggage in the bed of my pickup. “I tried to tell you,” I pointed out.
“Yeah. Next time I’ll listen. I’d rather take my chances on being killed than ever have to experience that again.” Relief laced her sweet tone.
I opened the passenger door and kept my comments to myself as she climbed in. It was comical to say the least. Anticipation coursed through my body as I made my way to the driver’s side.
She was really coming home with me. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt right. She needed me, and deep down, I think I needed her, too.
Three
I HAD LIED TO CASSANDRA. Right to her face.
How could I call myself a good guy when I was lying to her?
First, I told her my mom was the one who asked her to stay, and then I filled her with a different story as she sat across from me at the table, holding tight to the glass of water I had gotten her. She had put her belongings in the spare room and then met me in the kitchen. And that’s where we were as I lied.
Was I bad guy?
It honestly didn’t matter. Cassandra’s worry lines vanished from her face the minute I told her it was my mom’s idea to have her stay, when it was mine. I also had no clue why she had freaked out when she found out my mom was her nurse and then questioned being at my house, so I did what I could to make her feel better. There was a lot I didn’t understand about our conversation but at least she wasn’t upset anymore. What I wasn’t expecting was the million questions she asked me as we sat at the kitchen table.
“And your dad? What’s his name? What does he do?” she asked, then swallowed hard, like she immediately regretted it.
“His name is Bart, and he works on the farm,” I told her, unable to meet her eyes. My parents still wouldn’t let me work there. But the worst was that it wasn’t even our farm anymore. We had to sell it off to help pay for my medical bills. What that did to me was unexplainable.
“Oh, you guys own a farm?”
That one hurt. She couldn’t have known though. “No. We used to own it, but we sold it a while back and now my dad just helps run it.”
“Why did you sell your farm?” she asked, way too intrigued.
I stared at the wall behind her because I couldn’t look her in the eye. My throat started to tighten. Because I’m sick. “We just couldn’t keep up with all the work. It had been in our family for a few generations. It was hard, but sometimes there are just things in life that you have to do,” I muttered, finally meeting her eyes again.
“Any siblings?” Her voice raised a few octaves, like she sensed my discomfort over the previous questions, yet this wasn’t any better.
The last thing I needed was for her to bring up my brother, the same one who didn’t show this weekend, around my parents. I had to divert her, quick. “Do you always play twenty questions when you meet someone?”
“Yes, as a matter fact I do. I like to know everything about a person, about a family, especially one that I’m staying with,” she stated.
She was absolutely right, but there were things she had to leave alone about my life, about my family. “Cassandra, that’s just called being nosy.” I tried to play it off like I was being funny but wasn’t sure it came out that way, because inside I was panicking.
She shot me a crusted look and crossed her arms over her chest. It definitely didn’t come out funny to her. “I just wanted to know more about you.”
All she wanted was to know more about me, and lord help me, I wanted to know everything about her. But there were things she couldn’t know about. Things I wasn’t ready to share.
Over the past few days, she had invaded my mind, every thought somehow turned to me thinking about her smile, her eyes—anything Cassandra really. She wasn’t looking at me with the pity eyes I had seen from most. She saw me, Jason, before the kidney failure. Was it a shame for a guy to like the way that felt?
But then I lied, again. And it wasn’t any easier this time, it was gut wrenching. My stomach didn’t know whether to flop, drop, or knot.
The morning had started off great. Not only had I cooked breakfast, my favorite meal, but I did it for a girl. A girl that had somehow managed to suck me in . . . deep. So deep, that for the first time in a long time, I wished I could have called in sick and stayed with her all day. Doing absolutely nothing, yet it would feel like everything. I’d get my appointment done, and then be back. Painless, right?
Wrong.
All too eager, she asked, “What’s this errand you’re running?” I could tell she wanted to go with me.
My heart sank into my stomach.
As if it wasn’t hard enough dragging myself to these appointments three times a week for hours on end, it would be even harder now because I’d be leaving that sweet face.
Dialysis, sweetheart. It’s dialysis.
“Just an errand,” I lied, instead of the truth that was on the tip of my tongue. My problems were too heavy for her fragile shoulders. It was better this way.
Her mouth twisted and I could tell this was hard for her being as curious as she was. “Can I help or go with?”
I almost choked on my saliva. There was no way. “No, not this time.”
She peered up at me with sad eyes, her lips pulling down in a frown, and my chest pinched. It was as if she didn’t want me to leave her.
But again, there was no way. It was a lot to take for me when I first went. The sterile smell that burned my nose hairs as I entered the bright-white room. The large oversized treatment chair that sat next to the huge machine that would be hooked up to me through my ports. And my heart racing as the blood flowed from one tube into the machine and out through another tube, returning my clean blood back into me. I had to snuggle into a blanket because I froze. Even with all the prep, I was never really prepared.
And of course Anna had made it clear I was less than attractive with my illness. The way her eyes faded when she looked at me from then on out was engraved in mind like a tattoo. And call me crazy, but I liked how Cassandra’s eyes still shined brightly at me. I wanted to keep them that way for as long as I could. So, as much as I’d have loved the company, there was no way I was about to invite Cassandra.
***
There was an extra spring in my step when I strolled into my normally dreaded, white-walled hospital room that housed a chair and a machine instead of a bed. Maybe it was knowing I’d get to be with Cassie when I got back home. Who knew, but I was pretty positive my dialysis nurse, Colleen, had even noticed something different about me. Especially when she raised her brows and smiled, waiting for me to get situated in the chair that wasn’t such an imprisonment today.
The dread of coming here never ceased, but it was true what they said: that it would get easier and eventually I’d be a dialysis pro. Well, today I finally felt like that pro they so often talked about. Spending four hours, three days a week in this place, pieces of you and your sanity stayed behind every time you got up from the chair and left the hospital. Dialysis took a piece of me with each treatment. But there was something about today. Something so incredibly different that had me stealing pieces of myself back from this chair that once held
me prisoner. It wasn’t a punishment anymore. Especially now, knowing I had something to look forward to when I left.
As I rested back against the squeaky leather, not even the sterile odor of the hospital bothered me, because the sweet scent of Cassie still lingered on my clothes.
Taking my left arm, Colleen made small chat while she cleaned the fistula on my forearm then inserted the needles attached to the tubes from the machine into my ports. It was uncomfortable as hell, but for once, my smile had yet to disappear. After I was hooked up, Colleen powered on the machine. Its hum was a normal distraction but right then it wasn’t even needed, my mind was already running laps. I grinned wider.
“So, tell me about this girl you rescued the other day?” Colleen asked, tucking her short black hair behind her ears. My cheeks seared like a hot griddle almost instantly. “That cute, huh?”
God, was I that easy to read? “You could say that.” I chuckled. Cassandra wasn’t cute, she was breathtaking.
Her lips quirked to the side. “Does this cute mystery girl have a name?”
The prettiest.
It took a second to answer, my mind kept repeating her name. “Cassandra,” I finally muttered, picturing a pair of hazel eyes.
“Cassandra and Jason. Definitely has a nice ring to it.” Colleen handed me the pen and notepad I used when I was here. Sometimes I’d use a blanket to cover up, but my current thoughts had me too warm and toasty. “Now, don’t go scribbling your initials all over that thing,” she teased and I laughed. Hard.
“That’s not what the kids do these days. We like to carve ours into the tree.” I flashed her a wink and my heart suddenly did a quick lap in my chest. It’d been a long time since my initials were carved in the bark.
“Oh yes, the tree. How could I forget?” Smile lines formed around her dark eyes. “Well, you’ve at least got the blushing down pat.”
I palmed my flaming cheek and exhaled. Yep. I had it bad. Sadly, I wasn’t even the least bit ashamed.
“I’ll just be over there, Jason.” She pointed toward her small, teacher-like desk that was off to the side. “You good for now?”
I nodded. “Always.”
She grinned and I got to my letter.
Dan,
I need to know what to do. This girl has me going crazy, and I’ve only known her for two days. Two Days! There’s watching her get in and out of my truck, which is a riot and yet so damn cute. Then there’s the fact that I cooked her breakfast. I’m not even going to tell Mom, she’ll make it a big deal, but it kind of is isn’t it? It brought back a lot of memories. Clearly, I was trying to impress her and I hope it worked. Actually, I think it did, because she invited me to her place to teach her how to cook. The look on her face after she said it was the most adorable thing. Her eyes got wide and her cheeks immediately turned red. She’s cute, man.
I’m going out of my mind, though. She’s asking questions. Ones that I’m unprepared to answer. Asking about you, where I was going today, our farm and why we had to sell it. How do I get her mind off our family? I can only hold off so long on the questions. I don’t even know what to tell her, so I dodge them. Every single one. Or give her as vague an answer as I can.
But then there’s her and the million things going on in her life that I’m trying to put together without coming out and blatantly asking her. Care to guess what school she goes to? Yep, she’s a Buffalo at University of Colorado. But yet, she’s not there right now. I’m not an idiot, school started weeks ago and she’s not there. And then, she either has shitty ass parents or is too stubborn to call them. I don’t know, Dan, but I hate that they don’t even know she was in an accident. At least her friend that she was trying to visit in Alamosa knows. Sadly, I think she’s running away and I’m not sure if it’s from a place or a person but it is definitely apparent that she is running. She’s denying it, of course, being all defiant and stubborn, which reminds me too much of you.
She got sick and refused to go to the hospital. Instead, she weaseled her way into getting Mom to look her over. Either I’m a sucker for her hazel eyes or I’m just a moron for letting her win. And then, she got sick again this morning. Prognosis on this? I bet we’re thinking of the same thing. What do I do?
I need to stop mulling over it all, but the connection is like none I’ve ever had. Tell me I’m crazy? And then tell me what to do next? Any ideas? This is a small town and her car won’t be done for a while, so what should we do? I’ve got a couple ideas, but I need help from you, brother.
Jase
Shaking the cramps out of my hand, I looked over my letter. With a tight grip on the notepad, I ripped the page from the top and folded it in thirds.
“I know that sound.” Colleen came over and took the pad from me. “Ready to mail it?” It was our thing. She’d stuff my letter into a pre-addressed envelope I had made, and then she’d put it in the pile for the hospital’s mailman to pick up.
My lips curled to the side. “Yes, ma’am.”
She chuckled, eyeing the hand I flexed continuously. “You were busy over here. A long letter this time?” she asked as she sealed the envelope.
“I had a lot to say.” Which was new for a change.
“I’ll bet.” Colleen smirked and I relaxed in my chair, letting the machine do its thing for the rest of the treatment.
Three hours later, Colleen unhooked me and applied dressings where the needles had been. Sitting in the chair, preparing to stand, I prayed so damn hard that my body would keep itself in check and I wouldn’t get sick. With dialysis you just never knew. Some treatments were better than others. And lucky for me, as I stood, I felt okay and told Colleen goodbye before heading out of the dialysis room. I only hoped it stayed that way; the last thing I wanted was to get sick in front of Cassandra.
Applying pressure to the bandages on my forearm, I padded down the long hallway. It was your normal hospital corridor. Overhead signs pointing to different departments, fluorescent lights, white tile with brown accent squares down the middle. I couldn’t even count how many times I’d seen this hallway and noticed all the things nobody else did. The paint starting to fade on the creamy walls, the crack on the third light fixture in the ceiling, or how there was a long pen mark next to the second door on my left.
It was only a matter of time before I wouldn’t be observing those things anymore, though. My cheeks grew sore from my large smile. Being on the UNOS list for an organ was one thing, but knowing I was next made everything that much brighter.
I stopped and stared down at the one brown tile that had a chip right in the middle of it. It was the final one at the end of the hall. Like I said, I noticed everything.
“Jason, I’m glad I caught you.”
I lifted my gaze at the sound of my doctor’s voice. “Hey, Dr. Mathews.”
He was cradling a large binder to his chest, his glasses reflecting the light above us. “I was just coming to see you. I didn’t realize you were done.” I froze. The reason he wanted to talk to me was either really good or very bad. “How was treatment today?” His gray eyebrows arched above his glasses as he smiled. But it was small. One I’d seen too many times.
My boots rooted to the damn brown tile, as the skin on the back of my neck prickled, making my hair stand on edge. Swallowing my anxiety, I asked the first thing that came to mind. “Is this about the wait list?” The same one I was just smiling about? The same list that had me holding on like it was my lifeline? Because it was.
He tilted his head to the side and brought his hand to my shoulder, ushering us toward the faded creamy wall. “What’s going on?” My heart rate spiked, my stomach grew nauseous, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the dialysis or this moment.
He pushed the binder tighter against his white coat. “Dr. Burke called me this morning, Jason. They had an emergency and had to bump someone else ahead of you on the UNOS list. You won’t be getting the kidney we thought you would after all.”
My kidney? I wasn’t getting it?
<
br /> The world around us stopped moving. There weren’t nurses walking behind us, there wasn’t a voice paging over the intercom. There was only the worst sound in the world—silence. I steadied a hand against the wall and forced my lungs to fill with oxygen. Forced myself to breathe, to keep from passing out. Begged my heart that wanted to stop to keep pumping so I didn’t end up on the floor where my happiness and stomach lay crushed.
“I’m sorry, Jason.” Dr. Mathew’s words were anything but comforting. I’d been told ‘sorry’ so many times it lost its effect years ago.
I looked down and all I could focus on were the doctor’s white sneakers, the kind that really squeaked as he walked and the kind that took him places. Then I glanced down at my boots. The same ones I’d worn for years, that’d traipsed down this same path more times than I’d like to remind myself. I thought it was coming to an end soon, but it wasn’t.
Crushed.
I blinked, forcing the unexpected news from releasing out of my eyes. But this . . . this was shattering. Especially since I’d been waiting. Would I ever get better? Get that third chance I’d banked on? I’d hoped for?
A firm hand gripped my arm and I peered up at Dr. Mathews, his eyes full of remorse. “Don’t lose hope, Jason. We’ll get the next one. Your stats are looking great so far. This isn’t a set back, okay?”
“It’s not?” Looking beside me, I eyed my hand that was still frozen to the wall, its pasty color matching the paint.
“No.” His voice rose an octave, drawing back my attention. “You’re doing great.” He squeezed my shoulder and offered a weak smile. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
I think I nodded, but I couldn’t be sure. My body that felt so alive walking in, felt like it was headed six-foot under, completely numb and cold. The worst part was that I would have to deliver the news to my family.
Silently, I left the hospital and got into my truck, the drive home even quieter. I kept my radio off, not needing any more distraction than what was already consuming my clouded brain. Unable to remember my drive, I pulled into the driveway and sat with my hands frozen on the wheel for about five minutes. Glancing down at my arm, I picked at the edges of the tape on my bandages and pulled them from my skin, shoving it into my pocket before I had the courage to get out. The mailbox haunted me as I made my way to the front door. Normally, I checked it whenever I got home, eager for a letter from Dan, but this time I didn’t have an eager bone in my body.
