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“Well, missy, if you are that bored of my rambling, maybe I’ll have the capable Dr. Dennis go over the paperwork with you. Do you mind, Dr. Dennis? I was paged.”
“Sure,” he says and takes the consent form from Dr. Ramirez.
The minute she leaves, I interrogate Rory. “Am I going to get you in trouble, Rory? Or fired?”
He shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t care.”
“Rory, please. I need to know.”
“It’s frowned upon. Let’s put it that way. But I’ve never actually delivered any sort of care, nor have I broken any privacy laws trying to find out what’s going on with you—not that I haven’t been tempted. They will be able to tell I’ve never accessed your electronic record except for that first time before I knew it was you.”
“What about the consent forms? Isn’t you going over them with me part of care?”
“Yeah, I’ll page another resident in a bit so they can go over them with you. Better safe than sorry.”
“All right. And Rory? Thanks for not reading my medical chart. I appreciate you respecting my privacy.”
He takes a seat and scratches his jaw—a move I’ve come to recognize as a sign of either concern or deep thought. “So,” he starts. “You gonna tell me the truth this time, or will I have to pry it out of you again?”
“You have the consent forms, so you know it’s surgery.”
“No. I didn’t read them.”
I can’t help but tell him everything Dr. Ramirez and Dr. Medina said to me about the procedure. Rory listens intently with a stoicism that I haven’t seen in him yet. It’s an entirely different side of him. I get the sense I’m looking at Dr. Dennis now, and not my Rory. There is no playfulness. His jaw ticks, almost as if he’s angry.
After a long stretch of silence, I have to know what he is thinking. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You.”
“I’m wrong?”
“Yes. It isn’t supposed to be this way. You’re so young. So healthy. So . . . good. You aren’t supposed to get cancer. Everything is all wrong.”
“Rory—” I try to interject, but he won’t let me.
“I wasn’t supposed to find someone I—” His voice cracks, and he has to swallow several times before he can speak again. “Only for her to have to go through this—”
I close my eyes because I don’t want to see Rory cry, and he seems to be on the brink. This is why I haven’t told anyone about the cancer. I don’t want this pity. I don’t want it from him either.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and his voice is firmer now. I dare to peek at him again, and all signs of incoming waterworks are gone. I relax and lean into my pillows. “It’s just, I’ve seen this disease so much. I know what you’re going through, more than probably even you do. I’ve never experienced cancer myself, but being on the other side of it, in this seat, I feel so fucking helpless, Valentina.”
I let his words sink in and try to piece together what he is saying. I can’t square this side of his personality with the man who, not too long ago, on hearing my diagnosis, laughed with me at his jokes about being an oncologist dating a cancer patient. His seriousness reaches a degree that leaves me uncomfortable.
I’m already in a somber mood after losing a big patch of hair this morning. Add to that happy-go-lucky Rory suddenly grim and I grow worried, really worried, that I am going to die from this. This is just too many bad omens for one day, not that I’ve ever believed in omens before.
“Look,” I say. “Um. I’ve had a bad day. I appreciate you stopping by, saying hi, but I really want to be alone now.”
“Yeah, um. I’ll stop by after your surgery, okay?”
I nod, and he leans over me to place a short, sweet kiss on my lips.
“Bye, Rory.”
I’min the worst mood when Sara walks into my room, pushing a cart. I can’t stand her bubbly personality today. But she’s been amazing to me, and I don’t dare be rude to her. Dr. Ramirez walks in shortly after. As much as I love her, I’m starting to hate seeing her. She only ever comes to me with horrible news.
“Good morning,” I say, but Dr. Ramirez only smiles. “What?” I ask, confused at why these women are in my room so chipper.
Dr. Ramirez places some items on the counter in front of my bed. A few seconds later,Girls Like Youby Maroon 5 and Cardi B fills my room from what I can now see is a speaker on the counter. I sit up on my bed, confused at what’s happening, and then prim and proper Dr. Carolina Ramirez starts dancing.Dancing. Dr. Ramirez—dancing. Her moves are a bit spazzy, but I can tell she is having fun.
