Fighting For You (Bragan University Series Book 2)

by Gianna Gabriela

She points at some chairs lining one side of the wall in the waiting room. “You can wait over there for her.”

  “Thanks,” I say again, walking in the direction of the chairs. I sit in the closest one I can find. It’s pathetic that as a six-foot-one, two-hundred-and-fifteen-pound football player, I need to take a seat before my legs give out. But I can’t help it.

  “Calm down, Falcon. Stop being a coward,” I mutter under my breath.

  “Mr. Falcon?” a woman in a white coat says, standing in front of me.

  I jerk my head up. “Yes.” I rise from my seat.

  “I’m Doctor Roman,” she says, extending her hand to me.

  “Jesse,” I tell her, shaking her hand. I smile awkwardly when she gives me a knowing look after I introduce myself. Clearly, she already knows my name.

  “Thank you so much for being here today. We’re excited to have you as one of our interns this summer.”

  “Thank you for having me, ma’am.”

  “I see you’ve followed our instructions and have your scrubs on,” she tells me with a warm smile.

  “Just trying to fall in line.” That’s all I ever try to do.

  “I can already tell everyone will love interacting with you—especially our patients, Jesse.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” I tell her, though I’m unsure.

  “I’d like to give you a quick tour of the hospital. The other interns won’t be here for another week.”

  “Great,” I tell her, following her lead.

  “We’ll start with the staff, and then I want to give you a tour of the oncology unit. Based on your interest form, I think that’s where you’ll be spending most of your time.”

  “Sounds great.” I say the words, trying to sound as excited as possible but knowing I’m not. It’s a necessary evil. Something I have to do.

  I follow behind Dr. Roman, trying to pay attention as she talks about the hospital’s architecture, its history, the staff members, and some of the patients. She briefly mentions she knows my parents, which reminds me of how I managed to be here this summer. Despite my hesitance in coming, I hope to show her that I deserve my spot, that I didn’t buy it. I’m here because of who I am, because of what I’ve been through, and that goes beyond my parents’ network.

  I tune out of the rest of the conversation as I’m too distracted looking around and taking in my surroundings, cataloguing the new additions to this place, while also remembering everything that remains the same. We walk by a hall, and I can see people standing outside of the doors. Some have their eyes closed, while others wipe away tears. The common thread is that they’re all visibly tired, all fighting unimaginable battles. I look at them and then look away when memories start running through my head.

  “Are you excited to begin?” Dr. Roman asks, clueing me back in to the conversation.

  “Extremely!” Again, I fake enthusiasm. I hope I’m a better actor than I think.

  “Great. You have some paperwork to fill out, and after that, you’re free to go home. We’ll start you tomorrow, and you’ll just be assigned to this floor,” Dr. Roman says, guiding me to the HR office.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “You’re going to have to stop calling me ma’am at some point, son. ‘Doctor’ works. ‘Roman’ works. ‘Stacey’ works. Just not ma’am,” she says with a carefree smile.

  “Sorry, ma’am— I mean, Dr. Roman.”

  “That’s better. This is your stop. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says as we enter the Human Resources office.

  “I’ll be ready tomorrow,” I tell her. Maybe saying it out loud will help me convince myself. That I can, in fact, do this.

  “See you tomorrow, bright and early.”

  “See you then.”

  Hopefully.

  3

  Meet and Greet

  Zoe

  As I’ve done every day since I got the chance to go home, I arrive at the hospital and greet Rose, the receptionist. She gives me the sweetest of smiles and tells me she’s happy to see me doing so well. She says that every day, and I think it’s out of habit, or to make me feel better. I allow myself a moment to think about the fact that I am doing better than I was before. I also know the moment I enter the Poison Room, the feeling of doing well will change. I call it this because the drugs that are pumped through my veins not only kill the cancer cells, but also what little will I have left to keep fighting.

  “Hey, Rob,” I say, greeting the elderly man sitting just outside the Poison Room.

  “Hey, Zoe. Nice to see you!” he answers animatedly.

  “Good to see you, too,” I reply. I see Rob all the time because he’s always here. He isn’t a patient, but his granddaughter, Maria, is.

  “How’s the treatment going?” he asks.

  “Same old, same old. Just glad I get a break from the hospital stench,” I respond, cringing at my own words. Here he is, stuck at the hospital because of his granddaughter, and the only thing I can tell him is that I’m happy I’m not here.

  “You can say that again,” Rob says, surprising me with an understanding smile.

  “How’s Maria?” I ask.

  “Grandbaby isn’t doing too well, but God willing, she’ll pull through,” he says, holding back tears I can see are ready to fall—tears I know he’s shed before.

  “She will,” I assure him. I say it to comfort him because in reality, I have no idea. I can only hope that she’ll get to be a kid—to grow into a teen. Maybe she can. Up until recently, I didn’t think I’d pull through. Sometimes I still think I won’t—I may not. Maria, well, she’s been here for a few months more than I have. She was the first person I saw when I got here. One day, I heard her crying in the room next to mine, and since that day I avoided it like the plague. When I heard her laughter resonate through the walls a few days later, I was drawn in.

  Like me, Maria got the chance to go home a few months ago, but then she was brought back. The doctors said the treatment hadn’t worked; she was relapsing. Now, she needs a bone marrow transplant and additional rounds of chemo. If those work, she’ll get to live.

  Rob comes to the hospital every day to give his daughter, Martha, a few minutes to step out of the room and breathe, and to spend time with his granddaughter. Despite his age, he’s decided to donate bone marrow to Maria since he’s a match.

  I remember talking to Martha about the whole process a few weeks ago. She’d told me about what Maria was like before coming to this hospital. I loved hearing stories about her birthday parties. Martha also told me about losing her husband while he was deployed. Even while recounting this story to me, she remained strong. I could tell she was tired, and desperate for something to go her way, but that she wasn’t going to complain. She was going to take it one day at a time and fight alongside her daughter. She’s strong like that, and I envied her optimism—her outlook.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask after a few seconds of silence. He rarely stays out in the waiting room; he’s usually inside, making Maria laugh.

  “I just needed a quick break, but her mama is in there with her. She just went through another round of chemo… it breaks my heart to see her suffer,” he says, tears finally gliding down his face.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. I really am sorry that this is something she has to face, something anyone has to face.

  “Me too. I would switch places with her in a heartbeat. She’s got so much life left to live, and mine is coming to an end.”

  I pat him on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. “I know you would. But don’t say that, old man; you’ll get a long life to enjoy watching Maria grow into a woman.”

  I take a seat next to him, offering my silent support.

  He smiles in-between tears. “Thank you.” My hand finds his, and I hold on to the man who’s become like a grandfather to me while I’ve been at this hospital. I remain quiet, as there’s nothing else I can say that’ll make him feel better, nothing that’ll stop Maria’s suffering.
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  I silently pray for her treatment to work, for this family to once again find the joy that cancer has taken from them.

  Fiona, one of the younger nurses comes into the room and beckons for me to follow her. “Zoe, we’re ready for you.”

  “Keep praying,” I tell Rob as I take measured steps in the direction of the Poison Room. That’s what my parents did—that’s what my parents do. They pray it’ll work.

  JESSE

  I still can’t believe I managed to get my feet and head to sync and take me to the hospital. My heart, on the other hand, wanted to stay as far from it as possible.

  Today has been a little bit of everything. I’ve been running around the different floors, trying to reorient myself with the hospital. In true intern fashion, I also made some coffee runs for a few of the nurses, and even some of the doctors. I didn’t mind being an errand-boy because it was a built-in break—a chance for me to catch my breath.

  After filling in wherever was necessary and doing some paperwork, Dr. Roman told me I was good to head over to the oncology floor and remain there for the duration of my internship. I won’t be shuffling between floors and helping whoever needs me. Instead, I’m the sole property of the oncology unit. I know Dr. Roman is placing me there because she knows that cancer is my area of interest, and while I appreciate her for looking out for me, I’m overwhelmed at the idea of spending months on this floor–months watching patients go through different stages of treatment. I’m grateful for the opportunity, but at the same time, just walking these halls brings back painful memories, but I know they’ll compel me to do something.

  “Have a seat,” I hear one of the nurses, Fiona, I think her name is, say from right behind me as I finish cleaning up some of the equipment in the treatment room. “It’s Jesse, right?”

  I turn around, my eyes connecting with hers, but immediately jumping to the pretty redheaded girl standing next to her, her light hazel eyes a stark contrast to the fiery red of her hair.

  “Hello?” Fiona adds impatiently.

  “Yes, hi.” I stumble on my words when I realize I haven’t answered the nurse because I’d been staring at the girl for too long.

  “Have you met Zoe yet?" she asks as the girl, Zoe, walks over to one of the chairs set up for chemo patients. She does it mechanically, like she’s not in control of her own movements.

  “No, I haven’t. It’s nice to meet you, Zoe,” I say, waving at her, even though she doesn’t seem to be aware of what’s happening.

  “Huh?” Her hazel eyes capture my own once again.

  “Nice meeting you,” I repeat.

  “Is it?” she replies, and I can’t help cracking a smile.

  Fiona says, “As you can probably tell, Zoe loves to be sassy.”

  “You love me and my sass,” Zoe shoots back with a wink.

  “You’re not wrong,” Fiona tells her and then adds, “Zoe has a few rounds of chemo left before she’s done with her treatment. She’s an outpatient who comes in for regular checkups each day. We schedule her for chemo rounds every couple of weeks, at which point she stays for an additional few days until we send her back home again.”

  I nod my head, following what she’s saying like this is the first time I’m hearing it. The thing is, I know all too well what the process is like.

  “Zoe’s shown great progress, and we’re hopeful that the next few rounds of chemo will help,” Dr. Roman says as she enters the room. She turns to the girl, who clearly holds a place in both their hearts. “How are you feeling, Zoe?”

  “It’s always a good day when I have to come to the Poison Room,” Zoe responds, and I chuckle. Everyone turns to me, and I start coughing in a weak attempt to hide my outburst.

  “Don’t worry. After a while you get used to Zoe’s sarcasm,” Dr. Roman says.

  “I’m sure going to miss it when you resume your life,” Fiona says, bringing her hands to her hips.

  “I’ll come visit, don’t worry. You guys won’t get rid of me that easily,” Zoe says with a sweet voice that has me paying attention to every word she utters.

  “Have you met our intern, Jesse?” Dr. Roman asks at the same time Fiona’s pager beeps and she lets herself out of the room.

  “I have, though I didn’t know you had any interns,” Zoe tells Dr. Roman. The two of them volley back and forth while I just stand there looking awkward as hell.

  “We have a couple of spaces available over the summer for very special students. Jesse is actually a junior at Bragan University. You’ll probably meet the girls later, but Jesse is who you’ll see most often, as he’s assigned to this unit,” Dr. Roman says while going through the chart in her hand.

  They continue to talk as if I’m not in the room, and I’m grateful for it because I’ve been too distracted by the way this girl smiles, the shade of red in her hair, the green in her eyes, and even the length of her eyelashes.

  Stop being weird.

  “Bragan University? That’s awesome. I used to go there too!” she says, her voice laced with excitement, but there was also an undertone of sadness. She used to go to B.U. too. Probably before she had cancer. Probably before she was in this hospital. I’m instantly pissed at the thought that she too has had to miss out on things because of this illness—this disease.

  “Really?" I ask.

  “What? Do you think I’m not smart enough to be admitted?’ she challenges.

  “No, not at all—I—erm —I think you’re great,” I say before I can stop myself.

  That was an odd freaking response.

  “You think I’m great?” She repeats my words back to me, and I internally cringe.

  “I—I can see you studying at B.U. I think you probably did well—will do well!” I add.

  “Do well in what?” she questions, and boy, if I’m not confused as to what the hell we’re talking about.

  “Let me start over.” I take a deep breath. “It’s great that you used to go there! Are you thinking about coming back after your treatment?” I ask.

  “If the treatment works, then yes, it’s a possibility.”

  “Um,” I hesitate, unable to find the words I want to tell her. I want to assure her it will work and that she’ll be able to come back to school, but I don’t know if that’s true. I can only hope it is.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but Zoe, we’re ready to start you up on the chemo. Afterwards, we’ll transfer you to one of the rooms, and I think we’ll keep you for at least two days to make sure everything looks good,” Dr. Roman informs her, effectively putting an end to our conversation.

  “Great! Can’t wait!” Zoe says with fake enthusiasm.

  “You’re almost done,” Dr. Roman assures her.

  “Let’s hope so,” she says, a little more resigned. For a brief moment, I see the fear behind her eyes, and it speaks to me.

  “Jesse, could you please make sure Zoe knows what room she’ll be in after chemo? I know her parents will be here afterwards and will want to know.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I respond, happy to leave the room. There’s something about this girl that wakes some of the emotions I’ve had before. Her resignation to being ill makes this place feel a little more suffocating, and there’s nothing I need more right now than air.

  4

  Who’s that boy?

  Zoe

  I’m awoken by my aching body, and when I pry my eyes open, I realize I’m back in that room again—the room with the white walls and the beeping medical equipment. I turn to my right, finding my mother snuggled on the couch with a blanket thrown over her. Even in her sleep, worry lines frame her face.

  The nausea hits me out of nowhere, and I double over the bed, but nothing comes out. My stomach is empty. I wish it had something in it; I think it would feel better than dry-heaving.

  “You doing okay, honey?” my mom asks sleepily as she lifts herself from the couch quickly. Her hand is on my back a moment later, her attempt to soothe me. “Want a ginger ale?” she adds when I don’t respond.
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  “Yes, please,” I tell her, tears sliding down my face. I can’t stop them from falling despite how much I try—despite how strong I want to be.

  “Coming right up,” my mom answers, her eyes still bleary from an uncomfortable night on the couch. I’d try and get up and retrieve one myself, or even call a nurse over, but I know Mom wants to feel useful. I reposition myself on the bed after the nausea subsides.

  “Hi,” someone says from just outside the door.

  I turn in the direction of the voice. “Hey,” I say to the guy Fiona had introduced me to earlier. She’d told me the day before that someone new had started and she couldn’t wait for me to meet him. Now I see why. He sure is easy on the eyes, and since Fiona is only a few years older than me, surely, she noticed too.

  “Zoe, right?” he says, looking a little uncomfortable. I look him up and down. His blue scrubs hug his broad shoulders more tightly than normal.

  “Yes. Could you remind me your name again?” I ask him. It feels like I was introduced to him days ago instead of just yesterday. Yesterday, I was so focused on what followed the chemotherapy that I didn’t care about anything else.

  “Already forgotten, huh? I guess I wasn’t that memorable,” he says, cracking a smile. I find myself smiling too, unable to resist his charm. “I’m Jesse.” He extends his hand to me.

  I look down at the blanket covering my legs. “This is embarrassing, but I may have been throwing up a few minutes ago, so I don’t think you’ll want to shake my hand.”

  “Nonsense,” he says, getting closer to the bed, his hand still extended.

  “Are you sure?” I look at him, waiting for him to change his mind.

  “You’re not contagious, are you?" he says with a chuckle.

  “Not that I know of, but who knows? Maybe that’s how I got ALL in the first place,” I joke, but I can see his eyes harden. It passes just as quickly as it comes, though, and he takes my hand in his own, shaking it.