It’s not until after they’ve both left that I realize I never asked Cosmos what happened last night and if he got in trouble with Dr. Barbie.
Chapter Eighteen
I’m waiting with Mom in pre-op when Dr. Newberry arrives to talk with us about the surgery. Cosmos isn’t with him. I haven’t seen him in days, and I still don’t know if he got in trouble for the almost-kiss. I tell myself it’s fine, that nothing happened, but seeing Dr. Newberry without Cosmos cranks up the buzzing of my already deafening anxiety. What if he got in trouble? What if he got fired? For the first time, I realize there were probably cameras outside the hospital. My stomach bottoms out, sinking into my toes.
It doesn’t help that Dr. Newberry is telling us they won’t know exactly what to expect until they get in there, which basically means they can’t tell from the scan exactly how many tumors Mom has. They won’t know for sure until they’ve cut into her and she’s lying there bleeding on an operating table. Even though he reassures us that this new surgerytechnique is revolutionary, hearing about it doesn’t make me feel better.
I prop myself on the edge of Mom’s bed, squeeze my nails into my palm, and blink repeatedly, trying to make the queasy, spinning feeling go away.
Dr. Newberry doesn’t seem to notice. He tells us that the surgery will take roughly five hours and will probably require a blood transfusion. My face feels clammy and tight, hot and cold all at once.
He assures us that Mom has the absolute best team of surgeons, but I can’t help thinking of the day I saw Cosmos in the garden. The day they lost someone on the operating table.
Mom’s tumors have shrunk, thanks to the drug treatment, and we’ve given her the best possible chance of a successful surgery, but there are still risks. Dr. Newberry goes over all of them with us, and I nod along numbly, silently begging him to stop. I can’t hear this. I just can’t.
“Do you have any questions?” Dr. Newberry asks.
“When do I get my cocktail?” Mom asks with a laugh. She’s been doing so much better since we stopped the drug. She’s still weak, but she’s eating again, and she’s got some of her spunk back.
Dr. Newberry gives her a pleasant smile. “The anesthesiologist will be in soon.”
Just then, the curtain that wraps around Mom’s bed pulls back. I’m expecting the aforementioned anesthesiologist, but it’s Cosmos. My heart somersaults through my chest.
“Dr. Newberry,” he says the name like he hassomething important to tell his supervising surgeon, but his eyes immediately find mine, and I have the distinct impression he’s here to see me, not the other doctor.
Time slams to a stop, and the beeping, humming machines go silent.
“Did you get in trouble with Samantha the other night?” I ask, not wanting to dwell on Mom’s surgery anymore.
He smiles that cocky smile from the first day I saw him. “Were you worried about me?”
I take a step closer, trying to decide if I should let him deflect the question.
Before I can make up my mind, he reaches out and takes my hand. “How are you feeling about the surgery?”
The question erases all the floaty sensations and slams me back into my body. I can’t put words to what I’m feeling right now. Nervous isn’t enough. Terrified is more like it, but also makes me feel like I’m overreacting. I know people go through surgery every day. People’s lives are saved because of it. Mom’s never had a problem with anesthesia before. She’s got a great team. There’s no reason to think this surgery won’t go perfectly. But, still…
“I…” Cosmos clears his throat. “You don’t have to explain. I know what it’s like.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
He doesn’t look away, but there’s a twitch in his cheek that makes me think he wants to, like the intensity of holding eye contact while he says whatever he’sabout to say is too much. He takes a deep breath. “My dad died of cancer when I was in middle school.”
Oh.
“It’s why I became a surgeon.” His hand tightens around mine before jerking away like he only just realized he was touching me and hadn’t intended to. He shoves both hands in his coat pockets and rocks on his heels. “I wanted to help people the way my dad’s doctors helped him. They gave him four years of life he wasn’t supposed to have. They saved him. Even if they couldn’t save him for good.”
Something in me breaks and is pieced back together differently after his confession. This is his way of fulfilling his dream of being a superhero. A surgeon who saves lives, who gives people more time.
“I tried doing oncology, but I couldn’t take the uncertainty of it. The immediacy of surgery was a better fit. I like knowing right away if I’ve succeeded or?—”
He cuts himself off, and the silence is a black hole, dragging me slowly down. I don’t want to think about what failure could mean. Not today. I want to know that everything will be okay, even if it’s a lie. I want reassurance. “Would it be entirely inappropriate if… I asked for a hug?”
“Yes. But…” He steps closer rather than away. Slowly, his arms wrap around me, giving me plenty of time to pull back. Just as hesitantly, I bring my own arms around his waist. He’s a few inches taller than I am, so I have to look up to maintain eye contact. I wish I could rest my head on his shoulder and burrow into him. This angle is awkward. But it’s also wonderful. Warm and safe. Comforting.
My shoulders relax. The nausea I’ve been fighting dissipates. I settle back into my body. His own brow unfurls. His shoulders soften. A calm smile tugs at his lips. Maybe we both needed this moment of human contact. He pulls me closer, and I squeeze him back. I want to imprint this moment on my memory as an anchor for later when I’m alone in the waiting room, unsure of what will come next.
“Do you have someone to wait with you? Siblings? Your dad?”
