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After I’d left Clemson, it had taken me years to get to a place where I didn’t think about him and missed him constantly and was finally able to accept that he’d never love me like I loved him. It was easier once I started to date Alan and our shared goals began to materialize. While not exciting or passionate, at least it was something. I should have known to stay away from Dylan’s last playoff game, but I thought I was finally strong enough to see him in person. Would we revert to a stilted phone call every few months from now on? Even if we didn’t want to speak regularly, our families would always be combined and there would be times when I’d have to see him.
I parked in the garage and when I got out of the car, observed the damage. Dents covered the roof, hood, and trunk. There must have been a thousand dings and I knew there were too many to repair. My face crumpled as I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulder and made my way into the elevator and up to my apartment, though I silently prayed I wouldn’t see anyone before I made it to my door. I willed myself not to cry, but it was like trying to pour the rain back into the clouds. How had I gone from ecstatically happy to the deepest depths of hell?
Once inside my apartment, I threw the keys on a small table in the entry way and dumped my backpack in the front closet before shuffling into my bedroom. I swallowed hard at the ache in my throat, then fell on my bed and curled into a fetal position allowing myself to give in to the avalanche of tears. It felt like my chest was cracked open and my heart was about to fall out.
“Dylannnn…” I cried. I knew he would be here if I’d accepted his explanation, but would it last? Dylan was beautiful and perfect, and I wasn’t sure my skin was thick enough to worry during our weeks and months of separation. Our relationship was so new, and the pain I’d suffered over the last separation so vivid; could I take more of it? It was all I could do to leave him before, but it was for my own sanity… and this would be no different. My fists curled into the comforter, and I buried my face in one of the fluffy pillows, crying and crying. I felt so utterly alone.
I met a few nurses and other volunteers in passing and one or two that had worked on the ward when I’d volunteered before, but most of my undergraduate friends had gone home for the summer and some had gone off to start their lives in other states. I’d alienated Alan, too. It would be selfish to call him after how I’d hurt him. No matter how alone I felt, that would be wrong.
I wanted to pour my heart out to my mom or my sister, but they both loved Dylan as much as they loved me and explaining everything would only reopen the wounds. Medical school would be very difficult, made worse by the course load, labs, and the time volunteering with sick little kids. No, I needed to put this behind me as soon as possible.
The time I’d already spent at St. Jude over previous summers had shown me what a mixed bag of emotions that could be; sometimes joyful, but also how painful because even with the advances in research and treatments blood cancer survival rates were getting better, but three out of ten were still lost. Seeing them suffering through the treatments seemed even worse than when I went through them myself. I thanked God for the blessing of youth that made memories of suffering less real.
Another huge thunder crack shook the building, and I rolled over and forced myself to sit up, switching on a local station so I could monitor the weather. I decided that I needed a hot bath, a large glass of wine and a binge watch of Project Runway after the storm passed.
After getting a glass of wine from the kitchen, I glanced toward the door, knowing the backpack that held my phone was right there. I resisted the urge to check my phone, in fact made myself leave the phone where it was. Part of me prayed he had; my heart wanted to think he wouldn’t give up, but my mind knew it was best for both of us if we just made a clean break.
I drew in a tremulous breath as I walked to the bathroom. Setting the wine on the vanity, I lit a candle, and filled the tub with water as hot as I could stand. Soon I was lounging in the water, scented with bath salts, as the steam rose around me. I closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth and concentrated on my breathing. Dylan’s handsome face flashed in my mind, and I allowed myself one last indulgence to get lost in our weekend… to remember the feel of his mouth, hands and body embedded in mine… the sound of his breathing and this voice when he moaned my name as he came. This time forgetting him would be harder because now I knew what how he tasted and felt…the fantasy was real, but so was the heartbreak.
Tears squeezed out from beneath my closed eyes, my heart seizing painfully. I promised myself that this was the last time. Yes, if I could just breathe in and out, wake up tomorrow and breathe in and out again, each day would get easier.
Remi
Every day since I last saw Dylan, dragged. Every moment, pulsed. Every morning when I got up, the date on my phone made the distance between us seem more and more insurmountable. I ached with it.
The months passed slowly. Today was Good Friday and though my parents asked me to come home for Easter, I decided to stay at school. Over Christmas, I’d finally given in to Alan’s calls and we’d become friends again. It had begun with an occasional comedy club, coffee date. or dinner and had progressed to more consistent dating, but it was still much cooler between us. I knew he wanted it to progress, but my heart was still broken. After a few weeks of unanswered calls, Dylan had stopped trying to reach me. I couldn’t bring myself to block him, even though I knew it would probably be easier. Still, I kept up with the national and Kansas City teams. Even if I didn’t watch all his games, I knew their schedule and kept track of the rankings.
I focused on my classes and labs plus spent a lot of time at the hospital, but the nights alone in my bed were torture. At first the nights were sleepless and filled with tears, and now it was more like a big hole had taken up residence in my chest. At least the days were busy.
My Friday afternoons were free on regular weeks, but today I had the entire day off, so made my way into the hospital. The St. Jude campus was huge with several research buildings, parking garages and the main hospital. I knew it like the back of my hand and made my way from the employee parking through the hospital lobby to the blood cancer floor. It didn’t have the cold, sterile look of a normal hospital. There were bright colors, statues of children, lots of toys to play with and child-focused artwork on many of the walls.
Overall, it was a happy place; the nurses, doctors, social workers, psychologists, clergy, and volunteers all worked to restore the physical, mental, and spiritual health of the patients and their families. I went into the employee lounge and stowed my things in an empty locker after checking my phone one last time. I kept it with me so that I could find games and have access to music, but otherwise, I kept it off while I was visiting patients. There were days I made rounds to everyone on the floor and others where I would spend hours with specific patients while they got chemotherapy. Members of most families stayed on location, so many faces became familiar.
Marcia, a young nurse wearing bright pink scrubs, who I’d come to know well since the fall semester began was coming out of a room near the nurse’s station. There was a big smiley face emoji with heart eyes on the station, but the expression on her face was pained and there were tears in her eyes. My heart fell.
“Hi, Remi,” she said, trying to smile.
“What’s wrong? Did we lose someone?” I asked the question but dreaded the answer.
“No, thank God. The poor little girl in 1082. She’s between two and three years old and she was basically abandoned in the ER at Le Bonheur with a note. The poor little thing has bruises all over her body and tests showed she has A.L.L.” Acute lymphoblastic leukemia was the type I’d had as a child and Le Bonheur was another children’s hospital in town. “Her mother just dropped her off and left.”
“Really?” I was incredulous. “What did the note say? No birthdate?”
“No. I’m not sure, exactly, but I’m sure the police were called. She doesn’t understand what’s going on. She keeps asking for her mommy and crying. It’s awful.”
I patted the top of the counter. “This is the right place for her, but it’s heartbreaking for sure.” I wondered about the circumstances that would cause a mother to abandon her young child. I knew bruising was a symptom of leukemia, but I had to ask. “Do you think she was abused?”
“The social worker is coming up in a few minutes and can tell us more. I’m sure they did a full exam at the other hospital.”
“I hope they can find the mom.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found,” Marcia said. “Why else would she not include the kid’s birthdate? The doctors will consult in the morning, but I’m sure they’ll start her on chemotherapy as soon as possible.”
I nodded. “Is it okay if I go in to see her?”
Marcia nodded. “I’ve just ordered her some lunch. Do you think you can stay and see if you can get her to eat?”
“Sure. You said 1082?”
