What if he’s immunocompromised?
I put down my phone and look back at the file on the computer screen. Dr. Harris has suggested emotional stress or anxiety could also be a cause. Even though I’m already crossing a major line, I push it further by taking a photo of Dax’s file on my phone.
I slip the phone back into my purse and exhale hard. What am I doing? I’m supposed to have left this sneaky, conniving girl in the past.
I stand from the desk and tuck my hair behind my ears. I straighten the chain strap of my purse over my shoulder, and walk out of the nurses’ station.
Nurse Cindy approaches the desk, surprised. “Oh, hi, honey,” she says with a wave. “I didn’t know you were in.”
“I’m sorry, but my family just called. I’m needed back home. I won’t be able to do my shift today.”
Cindy smiles and shrugs. “No biggy. You gotta do what you gotta do.”
Guilt spasms inside me, but I hold it together like my mother taught me. “Thanks. I hope you have a good day.”
She waves me off. “You too.”
I leave the hospital and walk past the small legal-aid office. I take out my phone and stare at Dax’s file in my camera roll. Now, if he doesn’t believe that he needs medical treatment, at least I have photographic proof.
I move past an employment agency and inhale deeply as I enter the pharmacy. It’s narrow inside, housing an array of shelved items. I hug my purse close as I make my way to the rear counter. The pharmacist, who wears a long white coat, greets me with a warm smile.
“Good morning,” she says. “How can I help you today?”
“Hello, there.” I place my bag on the counter and avoid direct eye contact. “I’m after something a little unusual today.”
“I’m sure I can help with whatever it is.”
I clear my throat and feel the heat brightening my cheeks. “I need nicotine patches.”
Her voice lilts with surprise. “Oh.”
“It’s for a friend,” I say, instantly regretting it. “Ah, I mean patient. I just think of him as a friend. I’m a volunteer at St. Mark’s.”
The pharmacist’s face lifts with recognition. “Oh my goodness. You’re Vanessa Ashworth.”
I smile hesitantly. “Guilty as charged.”
“Well, I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing. Are you planning a fundraiser?”
“Yes, of course. But right now, I’m just volunteering my time.”
“Excellent.” The pharmacist, Penny, her name tag reads, gestures to the boxes of nicotine patches. “And you’re getting these for a patient there?”
“Yes, he’s an older gentleman named Mr. Raymond,” I lie with a sweet smile. “He’s such a kind man and wants to get his health back on track. I had no idea how expensive these things were. If it’s one small thing I can do to help him, I’m glad to do it.”
“That’s so gracious of you, Vanessa,” Penny replies. “I’m sure you’re making such a difference over there.”
Oh my gosh, I feel sick. I came back to Victoria Falls to be better than a liar.
“So, what strength do you need?” Penny asks, tapping a box of patches.
“I have no idea. He’s smoked for years, and it’ll be his first time quitting.”
Penny takes a box from the shelf. “I’d suggest these ones then.”
She places the box in a small white bag, and I hand over cash. This isn’t exactly something I want on my credit card statement. I thank Penny and leave the pharmacy.
My grip on the small white bag causes my palms to sweat. I walk further into the center of Logan’s Point, nearing a mechanic's workshop. It’s the location Dax suggested we meet when I texted him earlier.
