Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
I stared down into my latte nervously, both hands wrapped around the scalding hot styrofoam cup.
How was I supposed to even start a conversation like this?
Nathan wrapped his hands around mine, covering my fingers with his palms. I looked up at him, his expression concerned, but sincere.
"You can tell me anything," he said.
"I never meant to keep anything from you," I said. "I just don't like to talk about it."
His brow furrowed, but he nodded, ready to hear my story.
"Remember when I told you I was sick a lot as a kid?" I asked. "It wasn't just a passing illness."
Nathan cocked his head, listening intently.
"I have a congenital heart defect," I said in a rush, getting the words out before I could talk myself out of it. "It was bad when I was younger."
"How bad?" Nathan asked in a hushed voice.
"They didn't think I'd make it passed my tenth birthday."
Nathan's eyes went wide as his hands squeezed down on mine.
"Oh my god, Becca…"
"That's why I missed out on a lot," I explained. "I had to have surgery to fix my heart when I was just a baby. Then it was needing regular valve transplants. I was in and out of hospitals all the time. It wasn't just because of surgeries, although that was a big part. There were also just so many tests and things. They had to monitor me constantly."
I could almost smell the antiseptic hospital odor in my nose, making my sinuses burn. I could hear the constant beeping of the monitors, could feel the little heartbeat sensor clip on my index finger. I could feel the scratchy bed sheets against my skin, rubbing and chafing.
But that was only the beginning of the story.
"I hadn't gone to a movie theatre until high school," I told him.
He sat up straight in his chair, alarmed. "Were you in the hospital the entire time?"
"No," I replied. "It wasn't that bad. But they were always worried about me catching something if I went out in public, afraid that the smallest bug would turn into pneumonia or something worse."
I remembered fighting with my parents, wanting to go watch the latest summer blockbuster. They'd refused. They were apologetic about it, trying to spare my feelings by throwing our own in-home movie party. My mom made homemade popcorn and we huddled up together under blankets on the sofa. I appreciated their efforts but it wasn't the same.
"I couldn't go to sleepovers," I continued. "Not just because of the worry about germs, but because I couldn't go anywhere overnight. I wasn't able to keep on enough weight and they had to get extra calories into me somehow, so I was fed through a feeding tube every night."
Nathan's face went pale.
"Like those tubes that go through your nose and into your stomach?" he asked. "Those things are awful."
"It wasn't as bad as that. It was a gastrostomy tube, not a nasogastric tube."
Nathan looked confused, trying to figure out the difference.
"I got fed through a tube in my stomach," I explained. "It went on for years. At first it was every night. Then every other night. Then once a week. Eventually I was able to keep enough weight on myself. But it meant I missed out a lot of opportunities."
"Shit, Becca, I can't believe you went through all that," Nathan murmured, his hands tightening against mine.
"I couldn't just hug my dad when he got home from work," I continued. "He needed to take a full shower, washing before he could even touch me. They didn't want him to get me sick through the germs he'd picked up outside."
Almost all memories of my father from childhood included the scent of his soap and aftershave. I'd never been able to run to the door and greet him, throw my arms around him and give him a welcome home hug. I always had to wait until he was done cleaning up.
"Every time I catch the smallest cold or flu I get terrified it's going to turn into pneumonia and go straight to my chest. I can't even sneeze or cough without feeling some sort of anxiety. I know other kids play sick to stay home from school, but that was never an option for me. Being sick had real potential consequences."
"Becca, I am so sorry." Nathan's expression was pained. "I can't even imagine how tough it must have been, going through all that for so many years. Never being able to do the things everyone else is doing…" Horror dawned on his face. "Is that why you got sick when we went zorbing? Oh shit, you joked that you couldn't even handle roller coasters. Fuck, I never should have?—"
I shook my head, not wanting him to freak out.
"It's okay," I told him. "The zorbing thing was just because I hadn't known what to expect and I got spooked. Luckily, science has outpaced my illness. There are new advances every day. Things have gotten better. I can go outside now, obviously. The only problem I have with roller coasters is that they make me nauseous. And sleepovers are no longer a problem."
I flashed him what I hoped was a flirtatious smile, wanting to lighten the mood. He gave me a weak smile back, before his expression turned somber again.
"But it isn't all over yet," I said, needing him to know the full truth. "Not completely. I still need to go for checkups. I still need to take medicine. And there's always going to be a risk of something going terribly wrong. I have to live with that. And so does everyone else in my life. That's why my parents still worry so much."
"That's why they're so overprotective," he murmured.
Nathan sat back in his chair, his hands drifting from mine to rest on the table. His gaze went unfocused, as if trying to take everything in.
"I'm sorry I never told you," I said. "But everyone always treats me differently when they find out. My first boyfriend broke up with me because of it. I had a scare and needed to go for an echocardiogram. Sometimes they can take twenty minutes, sometimes they can take more than a hour. I'd asked him to come with me. I wanted the support. But he couldn't handle it. It scared him, I think. He didn't want to think about what might happen if something really was wrong."
"But you're okay now, right?" Nathan asked almost desperately.
"I'm… better," I hedged. "I might never be totally okay. My heart is never going to be one hundred percent. But I've gone through procedures to fix some of the problems, and they've been a success."
A relieved looked crossed his face.
"The risk of me dropping dead at any minute is slim to none," I quipped.
The expression on his face was so heartbreaking, I immediately backtracked.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I know a joke or two isn't going to make this any easier."
He sat silently for a minute, his eyes looking off at a point in the distance. I didn't say anything else, just let him absorb everything I'd told him.
I also needed a moment to compose myself. I'd never spoken to anyone in such detail about my life before. Laying it all out there like that made me realize just how unusual my childhood had been. I'd always known my experiences were different from other people's, but now I really understood just how stark that contrast was.
"I know this is a lot to take in," I told him.
He nodded absentmindedly, eyes still glazed over, as if lost in thought.
"And I also understand if this changes things." I tried to keep the disappointment and regret from my voice, tried to sound matter-of-fact, as I shifted to get up and leave. "I can leave you alone to?—"
Nathan put a hand on my arm.
"Don't go," he said.
His eyes met mine, clear and bright. I sat back down.
"Thank you for telling me all of this," he said. "I know it must not have been easy."
"It's a bit of a relief to get to tell someone," I told him honestly. "Aside from my parents, no one else really knows what I've gone through. I never wanted anyone to know. I never wanted anyone to treat me differently."
"I get that." Nathan went quiet. Our coffees had long since gone cold. He looked to me. "I promise, I won't treat you any differently because of this."
My heart lifted.
The conversation had gone much better than I'd expected. Nathan had listened patiently, had asked a few questions, and with only minimal freaking out. I'd worried he wouldn't be able to accept something as serious as my condition.
But he had. He hadn't run away.
Maybe I'd been wrong this whole time.
Maybe Nathan was exactly the type of person I could rely on.