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“I’m in remission,” he says. “I’ll be leaving soon.”
“Well, that’s great, right?” I say.
“I’m glad I’m not sick anymore,” he says. “But I don’t want to leave.”
A wave of understanding washes over me, as I recall his background. Connor is in foster care, and before he came to the center, he was living in a group home. So when he leaves, he will be returning to the foster home.
I can barely wrap my head around the idea of being in a foster home, let alone developing cancer on top of that. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anything that sounds so lonely.
“You don’t like it there?” I ask.
“It’s okay,” he says. “They’re nice. But it’s not my forever home, and I’d just really like one.”
A lump forms in my throat, but I make every attempt to choke it down. I feel like it’s important for me to stay positive for him in this moment.
“You’re a great kid, Connor. I’m sure your forever family is out there and is going to find you very soon,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. “Here.” I put the books in his hands. One is dinosaurs, the other is space themed.
I finish up with him and make my way around, saying my goodbyes and leaving as everyone settles into coloring. Before I head to the elevator, I stop back by the nurses’ station, Connor still on my mind.
“Hey, Jean,” I say. “What’s the deal with Connor?”
“Let me see,” she says, pulling a file up on her screen. “He’s been in foster care since he was two. He was taken from his mother due to neglect and she’s pretty much disappeared off the face of the earth. His seventh birthday is coming up. And if his next set of tests comes back good, he will be going home in about three weeks.” She looks up at me, likely curious about my inquiry.
“Thanks,” I say. “You’re the best.”
Walking out to my car, my mind bounces from thoughts of Connor to thoughts of Willette to the fundraiser I still need to plan and back again in rotation. Since the falling out with her, I’ll probably need to talk to my brother about her idea myself and see if it would still be okay.
I better get a coffee. I’ve got a lot to figure out.
IF YOU’RE NOT THE ONE
WILL
Iwalk into my apartment for the first time in two weeks and set my bag down. Well, I guess technically I’ve been here a couple of times to grab various items and more clothes, but this is the first time I’ve walked in with the intention of staying for any length of time.
Derek is gone. He moved the last of his stuff out sometime this morning and let Hawk know so he could pass the information along to me. In some ways I appreciate that he’s respected my request to tell his brother instead of me directly. On the other hand though, I’ve silently prayed he’d reach out to me directly every day since the last time I saw him.
I head into the kitchen for a glass of water and spot a folded piece of paper sitting on the counter. My name is written on the front of it, in Derek’s handwriting.
Walking past it, I decide I’m not sure if I’m ready to read it. I take several gulps of cool water before walking back past the letter a second time. I step down the hall, stopping at the doorway of the spare bedroom. Derek’s bedroom. Despite having seen his room empty before, it seems even more hollow now. Before it was just a room, now it’shisroom.
Perhaps it’s finally time to do something with this space, which will also serve as a pleasant distraction. A home library seems appropriate.
I grab my bag, dragging it back to my bedroom. I don’t put it anywhere in particular; I just let go of the straps on it as I enter and plop back on my mattress.
It feels like only a moment passed, but as I open my eyes, I realize I must’ve fallen asleep for a period of time. The sun is lower and it seems I’m even more depressed than I realized.
I turn my attention back to the letter on the counter and decide to go get it. I swipe it off the counter where I left it and return to my bed, curling myself up into a ball. Unfolding the single piece of paper, I inhale deeply and hold it.
Dear Willette,
I don’t think I’ll ever be able to properly express to you my thanks for allowing me to stay here. I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. I also want you to know that while I made a mess of things, I don’t regret the time we spent together while I was there. The only regret I have is hurting you. Although unintentional, the fault is mine. I’m truly sorry. I hope you’ll consider coming to the housewarming party I’m having this weekend. I hope I haven’t lost your friendship forever.
- Derek
Below his letter,he’s provided the address for his new place and the time the party starts. The thought of going and seeing him fills me with a special brand of dread. It’s not that I don’t want to see him. I do. Very much. Well, sort of. But it feels bittersweet. Despite everything, I’m still in love with him.
Suddenly, there’s a knock at my door. I peer down the hallway, hesitating. They knock again, and I know I have to answer. Could it be?
