Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
STEVIE
Dr. Garcia’s salt-and-pepper hair bounces as he types every word I say about what’s happened over the past two months.
The last time I had auras, partial seizures, and how long they lasted.
How many times I’ve had to take my emergency medication, my sleeping schedule, my stress levels after the breakup, and any changes in my mood or otherwise.
Anything and everything since we only see each other every two to three months.
Once I’m done reading the list that I keep on my phone to remember these times, I relax on the exam table. The one where they had me follow his finger with my eyes while not moving my head, recite my full name, tell them the date, and identify the current president when the appointment began.
“And your birth control shot is still helping with your catamenial epilepsy?”
“Yes. I’ve only had the occasional light spotting like before,” I answer quickly, tired and bored of the same old questions, although I know it’s necessary.
I’d left that kind of epilepsy out of my speech to Levi.
It’s well-controlled and has to do with hormones, periods, and birth control, which is honestly none of his business.
Dr. Garcia turns to me. “I know that you only began the shot last summer, and we don’t want to mess with the combination of medications that are currently working for you while you acclimate back to college life.
However, my job is to remind you this shot isn’t a permanent solution.
We will have to look at other options to help with your catamenial epilepsy before the two years are up. ”
Ma decided to come with me today since she’s the one who always gets straight to the point with the doctor about things.
But before she’s able to speak, I do. My doctor and I have discussed other options for months, but she doesn’t know that.
I need to get this appointment over with so I can meet up with Brad later.
I woke up at six in the morning and have to rest before singing and writing for hours.
“Yes, Doctor, I know. We can discuss alternative options this summer.” I try to keep my soft smile as sincere as possible, knowing it’s a complete lie. But I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth in front of Ma, let alone say it out loud for the first time.
He observes me, then glances at Ma, before nodding in understanding.
“Well, then, please call or message my assistant if you need anything. All of your prescriptions are refilled and should be ready at your local pharmacy upstate.” He shakes my hand, then Ma’s, and I smile, grateful that the hour-long appointment is over. “I’ll see you in a couple of months.”
We thank him, head to the exit, and five minutes later, we’re on the bustling streets in Midtown Manhattan, home to one of the best hospitals in New York State.
Outside, I can feel the air begin to fill my lungs again.
My anxiety over these appointments is no longer an issue, with months of them being quicker and better each time.
Still, I can’t help but feel frustrated by being reminded of the long journey that’s still ahead every time I step into that sterile room.
The daily pills aren’t even a reminder of that fact, it’s whenever my moms speak to me about it or when I’m unable to feel a certain amount of stress that any normal person feels without suffering certain consequences.
Or the few times I haven’t been able to go out because of a headache, a slight tingling feeling in an arm, or the fatigue that hits afterward.
I might be ignoring what’s to come after college while I’m there, yet I can’t help but feel at peace at Driscoll.
I also feel peace in my apartment. That soothing feeling of playing music, excitement over auditions coming up, and getting home to my kind roommate is something I’m not ready to leave yet.
In fact, I’m desperate to get back to it, and Ma can sense it.
“It went well,” she says calmly as we reach the parking garage.
“It did.” I nod, hoping she won’t want to speak more about it during the hour-and-a-half drive back to Driscoll.
Ma lets out a sigh. “We need to start thinking about other options, Stevie. You heard the doctor, the shot is temporary.”
“Later, Ma, please.” She glances at me while we get comfortable in the car. “I really need to take a nap.” I can’t tell her what I want to do when the two years are up, I’m not ready yet.
Her green eyes, exactly like mine, look back at me. Understanding looms over her, and she accepts defeat, willing to wait a while longer, giving me a couple more months of peace.
Opening the door to the music building, I look for room 204 and see Brad lying back in a chair, fiddling with his guitar. I knock on the door gently, letting him know I’ve arrived.
He smiles brightly, like the charming and cocky man he is.
“Hey, Stevie. How’ve you been?” He straightens and gives me a quick hug.
I sit beside him. “Ready to work.”
“Cool.” Brad takes the same notepad we were writing on before.
“So, I sang in front of a crowd on Valentine’s Day,” I tell him sheepishly. It feels nice telling someone who wasn’t there.
His brown eyes widen in delighted surprise before he lets go of his guitar and hugs me, lifting me off the ground. I squeal and keep my arms at my sides before he twirls me, causing me to laugh.
“Holy shit, Stevie.” He sets me down. “I’m so proud of you. I am a tad hurt that you didn’t sing with me first, but still proud.” We sit back down.
“My friends gave me a slight push, and by slight, I mean they forced me onto the stage at King’s Wolf.” My friends. It’s the first time I’ve called them that, and it felt natural.
“Fuck. I was supposed to go to that, but then…” He trails off while half his mouth quirks up, and I know he had a date, or something like a date, that night.
I give him a knowing look and then avoid all eye contact as he returns a slightly heated one. “Okay, back to work then.”
“Wait, wait.” He snatches the pencil from my hand. “Do you have a video?” I hesitate. “You do have one.” Brad motions to my phone. “Pull it up then.”
Contemplating whether to show him the performance because I don’t want him to see Levi and me together, I tell myself to stop being such a wimp and show him the video already.
Brad moves his seat close to mine and snatches my phone away excitedly. As the song plays, I look anywhere but at the screen.
“Stevie Winters, you’ve been holding out on me,” he says after the first couple of notes, oblivious to how Levi and I stare at each other.
I haven’t watched the video since it was sent to me, and I was way too embarrassed to show it to either of my moms. As far as they know, I sang alone, and the group forgot to take a video.
Daring a glance toward Brad, I find him with narrowed eyes and his head tilted.
From what I can hear and remember, Levi’s walking to my side of the stage, getting ready to take my hand.
As I ignore the dip in my stomach that’s been happening any time I think of our hands touching and how natural and intimate it felt, the song finally comes to an end, and Brad hands me back the phone.
Tucking it away into my backpack, I act as nonchalant as possible.
“Ready to work now?” I question, pointing to our notepads.
He turns my way. “All right, I gotta ask.”
Sighing, I nod, allowing him one question.
“Are you and Levi a thing?”
A nervous laugh, followed by a snort, slips out, and I cover my mouth, mortified at my reaction. “No.”
Brad bites his lip, clearly attempting not to laugh. Something like satisfaction gleams in his eyes at my response.
I ignore whatever the heck that look was and point to the notepad again. “Seriously, let’s work.”
And so we do. For the next hour, he reviews the lyrics I’ve written, making some minor adjustments with my approval, and then we begin working on the melody. I close my eyes and attempt to sing the lyrics we’ve written.
It’s a song about love, betrayal, and healing. All things I can relate to that have been hard to be open about and even harder to write about. How should one poetically summarize years of experience into a three-minute composition?
My thoughts halt when I hit the part where the bridge of the song is supposed to be, and we’re both stuck.
I open my eyes and find Brad staring at me with an odd kind of intensity.
Shifting, I wave my hand in front of his face. “Brad, please stop staring,” I plead.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” He clears his throat. “The music needs some work, but shit, your voice matches it perfectly.” Brad scoffs to himself and shakes his head.
Knowing he might be flirting, I smile, but I take the compliment anyway. “Did I sound too nervous? I can’t sound nervous in the auditions or callbacks.” I pause, frowning. “If I get a callback.”
“You didn’t, and if your acting is as good as your voice, you’re in.” He taps my chin, and that same flirtatious grin pops up. The one I’m sure he’s given to a million other girls.
Rolling my eyes, I point to his guitar, and we jam out for a little longer. At the end, Brad gives me a tighter and longer hug than usual. It’s not weird, just surprising.
On the way home, I think about how his demeanor changed after watching the video of me and Levi.
Brad having any kind of crush on me would be an issue.
Not only am I not interested in doing anything with anyone now, but we also work together.
However, Brad is flirtatious with most women from what I’ve seen…
I’ll set boundaries if he takes it any further.
Time to think about more important things, like how my audition is only about two weeks away, and I’m stuck on which song to perform.
I slow my steps down, reaching the front door of my apartment building. Fiddling with my keys, I count the exact number of days left until the audition. At least I have my monologue memorized—
Shit. My chest tightens a little and my heart rate spikes when I realize I somehow spaced on how much time there’s left until my audition. Twelve days.
Okay, tonight I’ll get some rest. Tomorrow’s a brand-new day, and everything will be fine. Now all I have to do is continue repeating that to myself and maybe, eventually, I’ll believe it.