Dark Intentions - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,43

the rental car to the apartment complex that's walking distance to the hospital.

The hospital is not located in the city, but rather near a cute little town with shops and a main street called Aspinwall. I like that. As I wheel my mom's heavy suitcase to our first floor apartment, I see two little girls playing on the playground in the park across the way.

The pre-teens laugh and joke without a care in the world, and I suddenly feel incredibly jealous. If this were a big city hospital, there would be a big trauma unit, a big ER to accommodate gunshot wound victims, and all of the medicine that big city hospitals usually deal with. But here in the middle of this bucolic little town I feel like my pain and my mom's suffering doesn't belong.

Everyone is happily going along with their day, living their lives, and we are these imposters, occupying an apartment on the corner, and filling it with grief.

My mom and I go to her first preliminary appointment which is just a meeting with the doctor at her office. It's a corner glass unit with a view of the rose garden below.

Dr. Ellis is a no-nonsense kind of personality who immediately puts me at ease. She doesn't sugarcoat things, but she isn't overly morose either.

She lays out the possibilities, and the options, and all of the details about the surgery, 99% of which goes over my head.

"So what are the chances of this being successful?” I ask.

"It's about fifty-fifty. We don't have a good number of cases and subjects who have gone through it. And as you know, medicine is an art as well as a science. People come with their own histories and different speeds at which their cells mutate. You're doing a good job of following the right diet, but it all has to do with how your body reacts and that we don’t know for sure."

"So what is the process for the surgery?” I ask, my hands trembling. I stick them deep into my pockets to keep them out of view.

"Well, after this you’ll go and get all your blood drawn, and tomorrow morning you need to be there at eight o'clock for prep. Surgery's probably going to start around 10:30, 11:00, and we'll go from there."

We both nod, both probably feeling tense and anxious, but relieved at the same time.

In situations like these it's important to have something to do.

You got this diagnosis but what do you do now?

How do you try to deal with it?

This procedure has given my mom and me a lot of hope, and it's not for naught. I’m thankful that even if things don't work out well, I have this good feeling of hope to hold on to at this moment.

While my mom is getting her blood drawn and I sit in the waiting room, Dante calls me.

"How's it going?" I fill him in on everything that has happened and then realize that maybe this is just too much information.

"Maybe I shouldn't be telling you all this."

"Why not?” he asks.

"I don't know…but we haven't even been on our first date yet, and it feels like I'm talking to you like we've been dating for three months."

"What if we just fast-forward?” Dante asks.

That catches me by surprise. I shuffle my feet along the linoleum floor and run my finger over the same piece of dry paint on the wall.

“Look, I like you a lot,” Dante continues. “This is happening in your life, and I want to know what's going on. It's up to you to tell me or not, but I'm here to listen."

The words hit just the right spot. I suddenly get completely overwhelmed and tears start to stream down my cheeks.

"Are you okay? What's going on?"

"No, I'm just ... I'm just …” I choke up. “That was just such a nice thing to say. I had ... I don't know. That was just a really good thing to say."

I find myself repeating my words over and over. When Mom comes out from the back office I tell him that I have to go.

"How did everything go?” I ask.

"Fine. All done for today. Now, I just have to wait for tomorrow. What should we do tonight?"

"Anything you want," I say.

“Okay.” Mom smiles mischievously. “Then tell me about this guy you've been talking to."

26

Jacqueline

Mom wants to know about Dante. It's hard for me to figure out what I should and shouldn't say. I gloss over some details.

At first, I