Chapter 25
Ari
I know something is wrong the second I look down.
Like, very wrong.
The toilet water is red. Not a little. Not questionable. Not maybe it’s my time of the month, or maybe the lighting is weird.
Red.
Now, I’m not one to be dramatic, but a full-body cold panic hits me so fast I have to steady myself against the bathroom wall.
“Oh no,” I say it out loud to myself in a gas station bathroom between Burlington and Autumn Ridge. And I don’t even care.
I whip out my phone and take a picture as any normal human in the twenty-first century would do. There needs to be proof so that when I die, people can say, ‘She knew it was bad. She took a picture.’ Then I flush. It looks more dramatic now, swirling around like a crime scene.
I’m Googling before the toilet even stops.
What does blood in stool mean?
The results load.
Serious things. Too many serious things. Words I don’t like. Words I don’t understand but immediately assume apply to me.
It’s clear that I’m dying. So I text my emergency contact, or who would be my emergency contact if we weren’t faking everything.
Ari
There’s a problem, and I need to go to Urgent Care. Now.
Something is VERY wrong with me.
His reply is instant.
Wade
Who is this?
Ari
Wade Byron Stevenson! Pull your truck around this instant. I’ll meet you outside in one minute.
Wade
Are you dying or a hypochondriac?
Ari
Potentially both.
Wade
I’d kinda like to know what’s going on before I commit to rushing you to the hospital.
Ari
Are you my fake boyfriend or not?
Wade
I’ll pull the car around.
One minute later, I brisk-walk out of the front of the gas station. I’m already halfway in Wade’s truck before he comes to a complete stop.
“You look fine to me.”
“My internal organs tell a different story.” I point straight ahead. “Drive.”
“What is going on?”
My chin lifts in an effort to show some dignity. “I’d rather not say.”
“I’m not being your designated driver until I know what’s going on.” He puts the truck in park and sits back in his seat.
“It’s personal.”
“Yeah, well, I need to know how serious this is before we go. Like, do I need to run red lights—”
“There aren’t even red lights in Autumn Ridge for you to run.”
“Okay, so we’re just going to the family doctor in town?”
“Unless you think I should go to the hospital in Burlington.”
He throws his hands out. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with you!”
My shoulders fall in defeat. “There was blood in my stools. Like a lot.”
The lines across his forehead crease. “Blood in…” He doesn’t finish. “I don’t even know what causes that.”
“Neither did I, so I Googled it.”
“And?”
“And I shouldn’t have Googled it,” I snap, mostly out of fear that the last minutes of my life are being spent arguing with Wade.
“You never Google it. Everybody knows that.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Okay, then what did Google say?”
“Cancer. Internal bleeding. Ulcers. Stuff like that.” I heave out a heavy sigh. “So, this is it for me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I have evidence! I took a picture.”
“Let me see.”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”
He presses his lips together like he’s trying not to react. “Okay, I can see you’re very distraught. I’ll take you to Autumn Ridge Family Practice, and we’ll have them check you out. I’m sure everything is fine, though.”
Easy for him to say.
Wade’s voice is calm, but his left knee bounces up and down the entire drive there. And both hands grip the steering wheel when previously, to Burlington, he’d been much more relaxed. Two signs that he might think I’m dying too.
Once we get into town, it’s a short drive to the doctor’s office. The clinic looks exactly like every small-town Vermont building: a little worn, red brick, and permanently stuck in 1998 when it was first built.
Inside, Pam Vasser, the receptionist, looks up and immediately lights up when she sees us.
“Well, if this isn’t fortuitous. Linda Tolman told me this morning that you two caused quite a stir at the mayor’s birthday party last night.
She said you’re an item, but I didn’t believe her.
I mean, I saw you at church, but still. I thought she was spouting fun rumors like she always does. ”
“Yep, here we are.” Wade smiles back at her while I’m actively falling apart next to him. He grabs my fingers, swinging our joined hands back and forth in front of the desk. “And you can tell Linda we’re not just a fun rumor. We are officially boyfriend and girlfriend.”
“Hi,” I cut in, sick of this small talk. “I need to be seen. Urgently.”
Pam’s attention shifts to me, slower than I’d like. “I bet everything feels urgent with Landrie’s wedding coming up so fast. We just got the invitation in the mail the other day. They make the most handsome couple.”
“I need a doctor.” My words come out a little too quickly, annoyed that, even on my deathbed, I have to talk about my sister’s wedding.
“Well, then.” She straightens, typing slowly. Painfully slowly. I think she’s doing it on purpose. If I were Landrie, she’d have a stretcher out here by now. “What seems to be the issue?”
I hesitate. Wade is right here. Two other moms are in the waiting room with their small children.
I lean in. “Um…there’s blood…in my…stools.” I roll my shoulders back, pretending like saying it out loud doesn’t embarrass me. “Quite a bit of it.”
Her expression shifts just enough to count. “Okay. Have a seat. I’ll let the doctor know.”
Wade sits beside me in the waiting room, far too calm. “You’re going to be fine.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I feel like I’d know if you were actively dying.”
“You’re not a doctor.”
“No, but I’m observant.”
“That’s not comforting. Not even a little bit.”
When the nurse calls my name, I practically bolt, following her down a long hallway, leaving Wade back in the waiting room. The exam room is small and too bright. She gets my vitals and a brief explanation about why I’m here then says she’ll let the doctor know I’m ready.
Ready for what?
Death?
Because that’s not true.
I’m in a downward trend in life, moving back home and—
My train of thought halts because, since I’ve moved home, life hasn’t been as bad as I anticipated.
I think about my students. My friends. This town that’s like its own side character in my life.
I think about Wade and our fake-dating arrangement that’s actually been kind of fun.
And somehow, things don’t seem so bad after all. I feel like my life is trending upward.
And that’s when death gets you.
Right when things are looking up.
A knock on the door, and then Daryl Harper steps in. I forgot that Rosie and Emma’s dad worked at the doctor’s office.
“Hello, Ari.” He smiles like this is a backyard picnic.
“Hi.” I try to sit like a normal person, but the paper on the table crinkles every time I move.
“How’s your family? Everyone excited for the big wedding coming up?”
I close my eyes briefly. “Yes.”
“I think the whole town’s excited about that one.”
“I’m sure they are.”
He nods like we’ve covered everything important. “Alright. Let’s see what’s going on with you.”
The exam is…mortifying.
Not dramatic. Not detailed. But invasive enough to make me seriously consider never speaking to Daryl Harper or his children ever again.
When he’s done, he steps out. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’ll be right back.”
I stand, mentally preparing for the worst.
Wade
LIFE is weird.
One minute, you’re transporting pallets, changing a tire, and the next, you’re sitting in a clinic, waiting for your fake girlfriend’s diagnosis.
I check the clock. Fifteen minutes have passed. I look back toward the hallway where Ari disappeared. No sign of her.
Five more minutes pass.
Then ten.
That’s when I make the mistake of opening Google and typing in Ari’s symptoms and immediately regret it. Google believes Ari has approximately seventeen terminal illnesses.
I close my phone.
Open it again.
Close it.
This is ridiculous.
She’s probably fine, but I keep checking the hallway anyway. Waiting. Watching. Worrying. And that’s when an uncomfortable thought slips in.
If Sadie texted me that she’d found blood in the toilet, I’d be worried.
If my mom texted me, I’d be worried.
If Ryan texted me, I’d be worried.
But Ari isn’t family.
So why does this feel like family-level worry?
I lean back in my chair, hating how much I care right now.
I never care about the women I date. It sounds harsh, but it’s true. I’m the fun guy. Not the serious guy.
So, why then, do I care so much about the well-being of my fake girlfriend?
Dangerous territory, Stevenson.
Very dangerous territory.
Ari
WHEN Dr. Harper comes back in, he doesn’t look concerned, which is confusing. But maybe that’s good bedside manners. He’s trained to stay calm under pressure.
“Everything looks normal. I didn’t see any blood in my examination.”
“That can’t be right. I mean, I have a picture if you want to see it.”
He studies me for a second. “What have you eaten in the last twenty-four hours?”
I frown. “I went to the mayor’s party last night. Had a protein shake for breakfast. And had a salad at the Beet and Barrel cafe with friends earlier today.”
He nods slowly. “Did your salad have beets in it?”
“Yeah.”
A smile grows across his lips. “Beets can cause red discoloration,” he says gently.
I’ve never heard of this before. I’ve never eaten beets before.
I stare at him. “Red discoloration where?”
He doesn’t answer right away, which is answer enough.
“You’re telling me that what happened when I went to the bathroom was because of a vegetable?”
“That’s correct. Everything looks great with you. Your body has a very healthy digestive system.”
The embarrassment and shame I feel are unmatched.
UNMATCHED.
In fact, I’m never telling anyone about this. I will die with this incident locked deep inside my soul. The personal HIPAA of all HIPAAs.
And then I remember Wade waiting for me just thirty feet away, and I want to curl into a ball and never come out of this exam room.
Because he’s going to ask.
And I’m going to have to tell him.
Wade
THERE’S a universal rule that doctors’ offices take forever, but this seems extreme.
I drum my fingers on my knee, debating if I should check in with Pam at the receptionist desk, just to make sure everything’s okay.
Then the door opens, and I immediately sit forward. Ari walks down the hall, and my stomach drops. Her expression is solemn and somber. Not a smile or a look of relief in sight.
I stand before she even reaches me. “What did they say?”
She hesitates.
Not good.
Oh my gosh, it’s not good.
“What did they say?”
“Well...”
“Ari!” I press again, feeling like I’m about to go mad with concern.
“Um.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “Apparently, it was the beets.”
“The what?”
“Beets. You know, the rooted vegetable?”
“I know what beets are.”
“The salad.” She gestures helplessly. “The beet salad I ate earlier with Liv and Reese. I guess when you eat beets, it can change the color of things. Private things.”
I stare at her.
Then stare some more.
Slowly, realization dawns.
She’s going to be okay. She’s totally fine, actually.
Relief pours over me hard, and without thinking, I pull her into a hug. She freezes, but I don’t let go immediately.
“I was so worried.”
Her voice comes out muffled against my shoulder. “You were worried?”
“Of course I was. You had me thinking you were dying.”
“Google was very convincing.”
I laugh.
Actually laugh.
The tension drains out of me all at once, and I release her, gesturing wildly around the clinic. “So you’re telling me the panic. The emergency. The dramatic texts.”
“Listen—”
“Were all because you got taken down by a vegetable?”
She presses her lips together. “I didn’t know. I’ve never eaten beets before.”
“I’m so glad that you beet the odds.”
She rolls her eyes, not giving me the satisfaction of a smile.
“Like, you really march to the beet of your own drum, don’t you?”
“Don’t.” She shakes her head, but it’s no use.
A smile loosens over her lips, and we both break into unhinged laughter. I buckle over enough that I have to sit. We laugh so hard that neither of us talks for over a minute.
I’m positive everyone in the waiting room thinks we’re crazy.
Ari sits up, holding her hand against her stomach. “Oh my gosh, this is the second time this weekend you’ve made me laugh so hard my stomach hurts.”
“I think you did this one all on your own.”
“I owe you.” She sits taller, smoothing her hair.
“Go on.” I grin.
“Just tell me what you want from me in order to keep this a secret from everyone I know.”
“Hmm. I’ll have to think about it.” I tap my chin. “Anything I want?”
“Anything, but only if you promise not to tell anyone.”
“They’ll have to beet it out of me.”
“Wade!” She slaps my shoulder.
But my mind’s going wild with ideas, and she can probably see it written across my face.
“Within reason, Wade,” she warns. “Within reason.”
“Okay, okay.”
But I think I’m starting to realize that nothing is reasonable when it comes to how I feel about Ari.
And that’s probably what freaks me out the most.