“What are you talking about?” The playful edge in his expression didn’t hide the heat in his eyes. “It’s not all conflict and warfare. There’s intricate storytelling. Superheroes have tragic backstories, identities they can never reveal, and love interests they deny themselves. All for the sake of the greater good. They do it to save people who can’t save themselves. And they do it with flair.”
“That sounds heartbreaking.”
“No, Zadie. It’s fucking romantic. The ultimate sacrifice for love.”
But when does the sacrifice end? And how do you know when it’s worth it?
“Well, if I ever need a recommendation, I’ll keep you in mind.”
He nodded and turned to leave. “I’ll keep you in mind too, Zadie.”
Week 10
Chapter Fourteen
Caleb
Kick. Push. Glide.
With my board under my feet and an empty road ahead of me, I focused on the momentary freedom I’d found.
Autumn wind rushed my ears, caught my hair, and cooled my skin. Trees topped with burnt orange, red, and yellow lined the street. Dead leaves had started to fall, casualties of the slow creep toward winter, snagged by the wind and swirling along the gutters as I passed. The rumble of my wheels over the uneven asphalt was the only sound that mattered.
Fuck, I loved this feeling. Needed it, even.
It kept me grounded. Kept me from becoming someone I refused to be.
The morning at Copper Ridge Regional Hospital hadn’t gone the way I’d planned. The second I’d stepped through the doors, the familiar antiseptic air hit me, and dread crawled up my spine like it had been waiting for me.
I thought I could handle it. Volunteering in children’s oncology. A way to face the thing that had tried to kill me and turn it into something useful. Make it mean something.
But when I walked onto that ward, all I saw was pain. An incredibly un-fucking-fair shitstorm of illness and fear, playing out on the faces of kids who were too young to understand why their bodies had betrayed them.
It was a helpless feeling. One I never wanted to experience again.
Yet, there I was.
“Don’t rush it,” the volunteer coordinator, Renee, had told me. “It takes everyone time to find their footing. Even me.”
She was right. By the end of orientation, I knew I’d made the right call. It was the right place. The right people. Even if my initial reason was selfish.
Because quickly, I’d realized volunteering wasn’t about me. I didn’t need to revisit my struggles or prove I’d survived. I already knew the things I’d overcome didn’t define me. I wasn’t a victim. I was more than the conqueror of a disease.
Cancer didn’t own me.
I just wished everyone else could see it.
Volunteering was for the kids. To show them they could be more too. That they could live despite the fear.
The board hummed beneath me as I carved a long, sweeping turn onto Chantel’s street. My muscles burned and my lungs ached, and for the first time since walking out of that hospital, I felt like myself again.
“How’d it go?” Chantel asked when I walked through the unlocked front door. She was curled in her armchair with a blanket over her lap, a book in one hand, and a glass of wine in the other.
“Good.” I kicked off my shoes and leaned my board against the wall. “Mostly paperwork and a tour, but I think it’s going to be perfect. Thank you for setting it up.”
“You’re welcome.” She opened her book, then immediately slammed it shut. “I have to say this—and don’t you dare fucking laugh at me—but I’m proud of you.”
“It’s volunteer work, Chantel. I’m not nearly as important as the staff. People like you literally save lives?—”
