I let out a deep breath, but my shoulders still stayed tense. “Fine. I will.”
“Good.” He leaned over the seat and placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’ll talk to you later then.”
“Later.” I opened the door and walked like a zombie to my apartment.
The clock on my stove said it was 8:30. My mom was at work, but I needed to let her know. If nothing else she should know what kind of bills would appear on her insurance.
I plopped on the couch and pulled out my cell phone, scrolling through my contacts until I got her number. Like I suspected, it went to voicemail.
“Hey, mom, no big deal or anything, but I went to Student Health Services the other day to get an exam and they called to tell me they found cancer cells on my cervix. Looks like I might have cancer. I’m supposed to make an appointment with a doctor in town to follow up, so heh, might get some bills for it. Okay. Bye,” I blurted it all out like word vomit and then hung up, letting the phone fall on the couch beside me.
I couldn’t cry. All my tears already fell on John’s bed. I sat there counting each breath I took. Tons of people had survived cancer. They had walks and stuff for it. It wasn’t a death sentence. But it wasn’t something that happened to nineteen-year-old girls while they were hooking up with guys either. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. And I was going to have to because my mom was calling back.
I picked up the phone and slid it up to my ear. “Hey, mom.”
“What the hell kind of message is that to leave on my voicemail?” she hissed.
“Thanks for being so supportive,” I said with added sarcasm.
She took a deep breath, crackling into the phone. “I’m sorry, baby. I just didn’t expect that to be the voicemail I got. Did you really say cancer?”
I bit my lip, trying not to whimper. “Yeah, Student Health Services called it moderate dysplasia and want me to see a doctor in town.”
“When? Where? What do you need me to do?”
I sighed. “I haven’t called the doctor’s office yet. A friend offered to take me to the appointment if you can’t come in.”
“I’ve exhausted my vacation days, but let me know when the appointment is and I can see what I can do. Do you want me to come now? I’m sure I can explain the situation to my boss and he’ll let me go.”
“No, mom, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know when I get the doctor’s appointment and we can go from there.”
My mom hadn’t been at her job very long and the divorce drained a lot of her money. I couldn’t let her risk losing her job or her overtime pay.
“Okay, baby. I need to go back to work, but call me if you need anything.”
“Okay, mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
I hung up the phone, letting out a deep breath. Before I could even set it down a text popped up from John.
Make the appointment yet?
I wasn’t expecting to hear from him that quick. It was still hard to process that he wanted to take me. He said he wanted to see where our relationship went. It could have been some sort of guilt, but then I didn’t know why he would have admitted that he just wanted me for sex in the first place and now was thinking about more.
Not yet. Will let you know when I do.
I went over to my desk, opening up my email. Buried beneath some junk mail was the one from Student Health Services. It seemed so clear-cut the way it was written. Like this wasn’t a big deal, just another diagnosis.
Student Name: Melanie Wilder
Prognosis: Moderate dysplasia
Recommendation: Referral to Dr. Michelle Rodriguez 1010 Franklin Central, IL 309-555-7272
There was her number. Ready for me to call and get it over with. I sucked in a breath, staring at my phone. It was just a phone call. It would take a few minutes and be over, but my fingers froze over the buttons. Making the phone call made it real. Made me have to face the facts.
Yet I couldn’t put it off, so I sucked it up and dialed.
“Obstetrics and Gynecology, press one for the nurse. Press two to schedule or cancel an appointment,” a recorded message droned and I quickly pressed two.
Some jazzy hold music played for a few seconds before an overly cheery woman answered.
“Obstetrics and Gynecology, can you hold, please?”
“Um, sure.”
“Thanks.”
The jazzy hold music played again. This time for a lot longer. It was only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Just when I was about to hang up the cheery voice answered again.
“Sorry about the wait, how can I help you?”
“Um, my name is Melanie Wilder and Student Health Services referred me to Dr. Rodriguez about moderate dysplasia, so I need to make an appointment.”
I couldn’t say cancer. If I said it out loud I might have started whimpering on the phone. So instead I used the cold word that the doctor had used at Student Health Services.
“Okay. Let me look at her calendar. It looks like we just had a cancellation and can get you in at 12:30 on Friday afternoon. Will that work?” She spoke as if it were no big deal. Like everyone just wanted to talk to someone about cancer every day.
“12:30 will work great.”
“Okay, just bring your updated insurance card and come a bit earlier so we can have you fill out some new patient info. Have a great day.”
A great day? In the past twenty four hours I was told that I had cancer and slobbery cried all over the guy I just wanted to hook up with before he had to drive me home the next morning. There was nothing great about my day. Or my life.
Chapter 8
I texted John about the appointment. I seriously didn’t expect him to show up at my apartment on Friday. And especially not at ten in the morning when my appointment wasn’t until 12:30.
My eyes practically bugged out of their sockets as I stared at John’s cockeyed grin. He looked gorgeous as always in a tight-fitting Alpha Mu t-shirt, jeans, and a black White Socks cap. “Morning, Red. Good to see you haven’t been losing sleep.”
I was still in my pajamas. I wished I would have known he was coming so I would have put on a better pair than my old high school band shirt and shorts.
“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be sleeping or have class or something?”
He sauntered in my living room, closing the door behind him like it was something he did every day. He plopped a McDonalds bag on my coffee table and handed me a foam cup. “I don’t have classes on Friday and I thought you’d like some breakfast.”
He sat on the couch, rummaging through the bag until he pulled out a wrapped sandwich and a hash brown.
“You don’t have to do this.” I stared at him. Thinking this couldn’t be real. This hot guy was not sitting on my couch and eating McDonalds like it was just a normal day. He felt sorry for me and for some reason thought taking me to appointments and bringing me greasy breakfast was the cure all.
“Do what? Eat breakfast with you? Sure I do. I didn’t buy two breakfast sandwiches for nothing.” He twisted his baseball cap backwards on his head and looked up at me, flashing a brilliant white smile.
I shook my head. “I mean you don’t have to do any of this. I can seriously take the bus to my appointment or maybe even borrow Monica’s car or something.”