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Chapter 7
“Ihave to ask you one last time, Valentina. Are you sure? We can still stop.” Dr. Ramirez looks at me with creased brows. I understand she’s just doing her due diligence, asking about fertility again. We have the same conversation we did on our first appointment, and I don’t budge.
“There are more ways than one to become a mom,” I say to settle the matter once and for all. “I’m not saying I won’t ever change my mind about being a mom, but if I do, I’m pretty damn sure I don’t want to cook my own, if you know what I mean.”
The corner of her mouth slants into a weak smile, and she sighs. “You’ve thought this out.”
“I have. I’m young, I know that, but I also have always known what I want.”
“Okay. You’ve convinced me.” Dr. Ramirez presses the nurse call button next to my bed.
A short, slim blonde walks in. She smiles broadly and moves with jerky movements like she’s had too much caffeine. “Hi, Miss Almonte. I’m Sara,” she says and gives me her hand to shake.
“Just Valentina, please, or Vale if you’d like.”
She smiles at me and goes over to a laptop resting on a cart in the corner of my room. “I see we have surgery and radiation scheduled today.”
“First round of treatment,” Dr. Ramirez says. “I have to go to my next patient. Can you take care of transport, Sara?”
“Sure,” the nurse says.
“For future procedures, we’ll have an orderly transport you, but for this first one, I’d like to go with you. Dr. Ramirez briefed me about you, and I’d like you to have a friendly face around.”
“Thank you,” I say. She brings a wheelchair into the room, I sit, and she wheels me out of the room.
“So, I hear you are a fighter?”
“Yeah. I was.” I say it in the past tense for the first time.
“You box or something?”
“Mixed martial arts, but yeah, boxing is one of my strengths.”
“Wow. Must be amazing to be a professional athlete.”
I smile, remembering everything I left behind. She keeps talking.
“Are you nervous?”
“A little. Mostly I’m eager to put this behind me,” I say.One way or the other, I add mentally.
“I’m not going to lie, it’s going to be rough, but Dr. Ramirez and I, we got your back.” She squeezes my shoulder, and the solitude I carry starts to chip away at the edges.
We get out of the elevator, and she tells me we are almost there. “When you’re going under anesthesia, in that freaky alien setting, and they are asking you to count down from ten, it helps to think of your happy place or a person who means a lot to you. Think about that to help with the nerves.”
“Okay. Thanks for the tip.”
Nurse Sara hands me over to a technician, and I’m transferred to a bed and then wheeled into the operating room. She was right; this place is freaky and alien. I smile, thinking how this is such a perfect workplace for Izel, the horror writer. She must get excellent creative fodder from everything she sees here.
When I begin the countdown, nurse Sara’s words run through my head, and I think of my happy place. I’m in the locker room, getting ready for a fight. My hair is pinned back in braids. I encase my hands with the knuckle wraps and position my mouthguard between my teeth. I stretch my neck from side to side and bounce in place like I’m jumping rope.
I’m walking out of the locker room through a sea of people calling my name—only one is distinguishable, with those unruly red waves bright in the audience. The cage calls to me like a siren’s song; my opponent is waiting for me. I step into the cage, and my world goes black.
The next thing I know, I’m striking the current flyweight titleholder. She stumbles back, recovers, and kicks me in the jaw with a force that sends me flying and landing on my ass. She wastes no time in clamoring over to me, and her fists rain down on my face. I go into a defense position, with my fists covering my face for only a second. I bring my legs around her torso and my arms around her neck, placing her in a triangle choke. My grip is so tight around her, her punches weaken.
When her exhaustion weakens her struggle, I swing my body with full momentum, rolling us both over. I land on top, taking the dominant position. The crowd cheers, but somehow, one voice calling to me rises above the deafening cheers.
“Valentina? Valentina? Honey, wake up,” says the voice.
