roller coaster. I’m not sure how much more I can take.
Roman runs the back of two fingers down my cheek. “Life isn’t measured in time, but rather moments, memories.”
“I don’t want to be a memory.” I know I’m being incredibly selfish, seeing as I was the one, weeks ago, accepting the same fate.
“You’re the best memory I have.”
There is no reasoning with him; he’s made up his mind. I would be a complete hypocrite if I argued because I’ve seen his world from the same side. I let the matter rest, determined not to ruin this moment.
As I’m lost in thought, Roman softly confesses, “Although it is rare, someone who has a life-threatening congenital heart defect can receive a heart transplant. But surgery won’t work for me. I have the scars to prove it.”
Closing my eyes, I try not to dwell on the finality of his comment. I can’t imagine a world without Roman living in it. I would rather imagine a universe where both Roman and I are happy and healthy, where we grow old with our eighteen grandkids surrounding us, retelling the story of when we first met.
Our story isn’t conventional, but it’s ours.
The moment we walk into Dr. Carter’s office, I’m assaulted with memories I wish I could forget. The receptionist, Wilma, smiles when she sees me. “He’s running late. Take a seat.”
Wilma has been here for as long as I can remember. She probably could have retired years ago, but her admiration for Dr. Carter is clearly evident. He’s a good man, and if it weren’t for him, I have no doubt I’d be dead.
I half sit in the black leather seat, unable to stay still. Roman doesn’t hover. He sits beside me and calmly scrolls through emails on his phone.
When Dr. Carter’s office door swings open, I place a quick peck to Roman’s lips. “Lola and…” When Roman turns to look up at Dr. Carter, he adds with surprise, “Dr. Archibald. It’s nice to see you both.” My cheeks flame as I’m certain he saw our not-so-discreet exchange.
“Hello, Dr. Carter. Thank you for seeing me.”
“My pleasure. I’m happy to see you again.” Dr. Carter is in his late fifties, but time has been kind to him, and he doesn’t look a day over forty-five.
Roman stands beside me, extending his hand. “Nice to see you again, Richard.”
They shake hands, the mutual respect clearly evident. “You too.” The thing I like most about Dr. Carter is that he’s not one for small talk. “Shall we? We have to conduct the scan in the other room.”
I nod, my heart rate beginning to rise.
“Wilma. I will be back in roughly thirty minutes. Hold all calls until then.” She nods and waves goodbye as Roman holds the glass door open for us. We begin walking down the corridor.
“How have you responded to these trials?”
“Good. Better than the first time around.”
Dr. Carter nods, placing his hands into his white lab coat. “Have you overseen her trial, Roman?”
He grows rigid beside me. “For the most part, yes, I have.”
“Perfect. You can sit with me and monitor the scan so we can discuss the results.”
Up until now, I haven’t been nervous or anxious. But now, the reality of what I’m about to do hits home, and I feel faint. I march on autopilot, my mind panning over what the next thirty minutes will reveal. It will have either worked, or not. There is no gray. Just black and white.
“Did you ask Dr. Archibald about recommended heart specialists for your friend? I haven’t had a chance to email you. I’m sorry.”
Roman’s head whips my way, and I gingerly focus on the gleaming white floor. “No, Dr. Carter. I haven’t.” I don’t elaborate, but my lackluster response hints it’s not a topic I wish to discuss further.
Roman is pissed I went behind his back, but I can deal with that later. Right now, I have more pressing issues to deal with, like the intimidating machine that greets me when Dr. Carter opens a door. I’ve been in this machine many times before, but now, there is a sense of urgency surrounding it.
Dr. Carter smiles. “You remember what to do?”
I nod, nervously tugging on my bottom lip. He begins pressing multiple buttons and preparing the MRI machine while I finally meet Roman’s eyes.
“Sorry,” I whisper, but he shakes his head, gently running his pointer along the length of my neck. I don’t have a chance to relish in the touch because it was for a reason.