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“Tessa’s been sick. Really sick. For a year.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. What’s the proper protocol when your bestie’s eyes roll back into her head like she’s having an exorcism and she goes all rag doll on the sidewalk?” “Let me have a mini coma,”
“Always let me have a mini coma.”
“I’m Dr. Blake Morrison. It’s nice to meet you.” “Blake,” Scarlett balked, her eyes bouncing to mine. “The Blake?” “Scarlett …”
“We need to talk.”
“Doctor,” Eli began, “you have to help her.”
This was the arm of a girl who used to be the epicenter of my own personal snow globe, the two of us warm and safe inside our bubble while the world spun outside. I knew her favorite food—mac and cheese with extra breadcrumbs—how she liked to sprinkle cinnamon across the whipped cream on her hot chocolate, and the way her eyes lit up when she found a new romance novel. I knew she hummed when she was happy and went quiet when she was truly upset. I knew her. Or I had. Now, with absolute crushing, heartbreaking clarity, I stood on the outside of her snow globe, watching this stranger occupy the
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Once he finally left, I turned my attention back to her, and that’s when I saw it. A jagged line on her skin that would change everything.
“I do not.” “I spent nearly every afternoon at your house, watching you, Cupcake.”
“Someone did this to you.”
“No,”
“No one did this to me. Now, about t...
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“I’ll find out who did this to you,”
“You don’t get to do this,”
“Do what?” “Act like my protector, like you care.”
“I do care.”
“I thought so too,”
“But turns out, I was someone you could just discard.”
Oh I am sick to my stomach.
“Tessa, I never discarded you.”
“Bull,”
“And the least you can do is tell me why.”
“Can’t we leave the past where it belongs?”
“You don’t get to push me away and pretend I never existed without explaining why.”
“Everything I did was to protect you.”
“Protect me? By blowing me off?”
Did he look pained, hurt even? Yeah. But welcome to the party, Blake. Then, just like he did two years ago, he did what he did best. He left.
Someone take Kathy's keyboard away I am begging.
“If you ask me, he deserved a verbal beatdown.”
“He’s … family and always will be.” The admission hung in the air. “Families fight. I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I doubt he’ll ever speak to me again.”
Tessa, You used to love hot chocolate before bed, extra whipped cream with just a dash of cinnamon sprinkled on top. “Life’s little luxuries,” you’d say, curled up with one of your romance novels. I hope this makes your hospital stay a little more bearable tonight. For the record, I NEVER stopped thinking about you. In fact, I had to stop myself from calling you every single day for the last 687 days. You deserved better than my silence. After a thorough self-examination, I’ve diagnosed myself with Acute Chronic Jerkitis. Recommended treatment plan: Extensive groveling, followed by a lifetime
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P.S. Ask the nurse for hot water. I remember how you like it scalding hot. P.P.S. The chocolate is from that fancy place on Michigan Avenue you used to drag me to.
“Honey, I don’t know who you are, but I’ve worked with Dr. Morrison for years, and I’ve never seen him like that with anyone. I don’t know who you are to him, but old friend doesn’t sound like it cuts it.”
Then, like some cosmic timing I couldn’t have scripted better, Blake edged into the room, his arms hanging uncertain at his sides. The sunlight caught his dark hair, turning the edges almost golden, and for the first time today, his doctor mask was completely gone. In its place was just … Blake. My Blake, his voice all deep and dramatic as he said, “Can we talk?”
My heart. The way she says he came in as 'just' Blake.
“I owe you an explanation.” His voice dropped low, intimate. “I never meant for our friendship to stop, Tessa. I never stopped caring about you.”
“This conversation is too important to rush.” “It’s okay,”
“Go.” “How about we have coffee when you’re discharged?”
“We can talk without interrupti...
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“I have a few minutes before I need to leave, and we need to go over your medical history. It’ll help us ...
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“It’s a little ironic, don’t you think?”
“What is?” “You’ve never wanted to tell me anything about your life. But now you’re asking me to tell you everything about mine.”
“I’m sure you have more important things to do right now than listen to my medical history. Can’t a nurse get it from me?” “I prefer to do it myself,”
“Why?” “Why what?” “Why you? You’re getting paged, you probably have a hundred patients to attend to, so why would you waste time with something as mundane as taking my medical history?”
“Tessa, for nearly two years, I’ve wondered if you were okay. Now I know you weren’t, and nothing else in my life...
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“I can’t focus on anything else. I can’t help any other patient. I can’t even breathe right until I know what’s been happening to you.”
“Now, we can dance around this all night, but I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
“I don’t want you to look at me differently.”
“It’s okay to be vulnerable sometimes, Tessa. It’s okay to lean on people; it doesn’t make you weak.” “Says the man who refuses to lean on anyone. Ever.”
“You don’t know how many times I cried myself to sleep. I knew I was sick, and it felt like no doctor believed me.”
“I believe you.”
“Why didn’t you call me when this started?”
