12. Sophia
SOPHIA
I wake early the next morning, not wanting to leave but knowing I have to. Rocco’s still sleeping, his long lashes resting on his cheek, one arm flung over the top of his head. I could happily sit and watch him for hours, but I have a long journey ahead of me and I can’t be late.
I use the adjoining bathroom to freshen up, and quietly pack up my belongings. When I’m ready, I lean over his still-sleeping form and gently kiss his lips.
He stirs at my kiss and, as I’m straightening, he reaches out and catches my arm.
“Hey, you can’t go.”
He tugs me back in, and I laugh. “I have to.”
I struggle against him, though I know we’re only playing.
He buries his head against my stomach. “I think I should shut you in this room and not let you go.”
“Then you’d get me in a whole heap of trouble,” I protest. And I’ll end up very sick.
He releases me. “Okay, okay. Text me when you get back to London, though. Let me know you made it safe. I’m going to be worrying the whole time you’re on the road.”
I lean in and kiss him again. “I’ll be fine, but yes, of course I will.”
“I’ll miss you,” he tells me.
“It’ll only be a couple of days.”
He arches an eyebrow. “So?”
I can’t help laughing again. “You’re right. I’ll miss you, too.”
A n hour into the journey, and I’ve only just left Cornwall.
I’m starting to doubt how sensible it was to be making this trip on my own.
I know my parents wouldn’t approve, but I need to get back to London and I don’t want to appear incapable in front of Rocco.
If I’d told him I wasn’t able to do the drive alone, then he might have started to question just how sickly I am, and I don’t think I could stand that.
I love how he sees me as I’d always been—fun-loving Sophia, not the girl with the failed kidneys.
But wanting to feel like a normal girl isn’t going to help me get back to London.
The fog of fatigue is already clouding my mind, and I still have hours to go.
I have to keep going, however. I can’t risk missing my dialysis session this afternoon.
I can feel it’s time for another one. My skin has started to itch, making me antsy, so I shift in the driver’s seat, and my calf muscles twitch, threatening to cramp.
I’ll drive another hour and get through Devon, and then I’ll take a break.
Yes, that’s how I need to think of it. That I just have a couple of two-hour drives ahead of me, instead of one long one.
I pray I won’t hit roadworks or an accident somewhere along the way.
To keep my thoughts from my body’s failings, I turned my mind to Rocco. I hate to leave him alone, having to deal with his father’s estate, but I don’t have any choice.
Yes, you did. If you’d just been honest with him, you could have arranged to have this session done at a local dialysis centre instead of coming all the way back to London on your own.
I sigh and scrub one hand across my tired eyes.
I’ll have to tell him soon, I know that, but I’m not looking forward to it.
Will he treat me differently if he knows what he’s letting himself in for?
People on long-term dialysis can be fragile.
We have complications, and it simply isn’t as easy as living with a healthy person.
We’ll never be able to just go on a spontaneous holiday because I’ll always have to make arrangements for my dialysis first, and I’ll always have to avoid drinking too much alcohol and be careful with my diet.
I’m making assumptions about our relationship, but I know how we are together.
We’ve known each other our entire lives and, from the way he looks at me, I don’t think this is just a fling.
I squeeze my thighs together as I tingle at the memory of our time together.
He’d always known exactly what I liked, and that hasn’t changed.
There had been a couple of other men over the past ten years, but nothing comes anywhere close to how I feel when I’m with him.
I hope he’s all right dealing with everything down in Cornwall by himself, and wish more than anything that I hadn’t needed to leave him.
An hour later, I stop off at some services and take a break.
I’m hungry, but takeaway food isn’t a great thing for me, as most of it’s too high in salts to be good for me.
I’ve already been naughty by eating the fish and chips yesterday.
I settle on some fruit and a coffee for the caffeine, though I could use something more substantial.
I take the time and stretch out my legs, trying not to wince at my swollen ankles or scratch my nails across my itchy skin.
There are only a couple more hours to go now, and I just have to push through.
I’ll go straight to the hospital, and the dialysis will put me right again.
I get back on the road again.
I fight off the exhaustion and ignore the leg cramps, watching the miles being eaten away by the car.
A tickle starts in my throat, and I cough to try to clear it away, but phlegm sticks like glue to my pipes.
I do my best to ignore it as well, taking sips from the bottle of water I have in the holder beside me, though I know from experience that too much fluid at this stage isn’t going to do me any favours.
A surge of impotent anger boils up inside me.
Why does it have to be me who’s going through all of this?
Why couldn’t I just have been born into a healthy body, and be reunited with the love of my life, and live happily ever after?
Plenty of people have it worse, but right now it all seems so unfair, and I blink back angry tears.
As I approach the outskirts of London, my cough grows worse, and I find myself breathless, my chest tight.
I’m trying not to worry about what it means, knowing it’s most likely the result of the long drive and pushing myself physically right before a dialysis session.
Three days ago, right after my last session, I would have been fine, but my non-working kidneys mean that toxins have been building up in my system for the last three days, and my body doesn’t have any way of getting rid of them by itself.
By the time I reach the hospital, I’m exhausted and feel as though I want to sleep for a week. I make it to the clinic to check in. Linda’s behind the reception desk, and the nurse’s eyes widen as she takes in the sight of me.
“Sophia, are you feeling all right? You look terrible.”
I nod. “Just tired, and my chest feels tight.”
Linda frowns. “You haven’t missed any sessions, have you?”
“No, I’m right on time.”
“Then what have you been doing?” She frowns at the swelling in my hands and feet.
“I had to go down to Cornwall with my boyfriend. His father died, and he needed to arrange the funeral. I wanted to support him.”
The nurse gives a tut of disapproval. “Well, I’m sorry to hear about his father, but it really has been too much for you.”
A fresh volley of coughing clutches at my lungs, and I double over, trying to dislodge the phlegm caught in my throat.
My eyes stream, and I can’t catch my breath.
A rush of heat floods over me, followed by a drenching in cold.
A firm hand presses to my back, and I’m vaguely aware of Linda saying my name.
But I can’t catch my breath, and the room around me suddenly feels distant, as though I’m drawing inside myself.
My legs buckle, and I hit the floor, but I’m barely aware of it.
Shouts of alarm surround me, but I’m not able to figure out what they mean. All I know is that a sweet darkness is surrounding me, and the only thing I have the energy to do is give in to it.