Chapter 34
Lo
Fuck. My. Life. A neighbor’s car alarm wails, each sound of the horn ripping through my skull. Beams of light stream into my bedroom. I retreat under the covers like a nocturnal beast into a cave. Who let it be so obscenely bright at five?
Wait.
I jerk the blanket down—immediately regret it—and search my bedside table for my phone. When it doesn’t awaken, I scuttle toward my kitchen. Nausea kicks me in the stomach, and I make a swift detour to the restroom.
“Tasting the rainbow” is only good on the way down.
On the way up, it’s an unholy, artificially colored mess that I thankfully (mostly) contained in the toilet.
The porcelain tile is cold under my knees and I’m afraid of what will happen if I stand up too fast again, but I’ve got to find out what time it is.
The microwave proclaims it’s not five. It’s six.
Oh god. My heart rate surges. I’m already supposed to be starting my rotation in the A&E.
Saoirse’s day at the flower shop begins early, so she didn’t sleep over, but an empty box of wine and a few Skittles littering my coffee table confirm that she was in fact here and not a figment of my drunken imagination.
Ugh. I never want to lay eyes on a single piece of rainbow-colored candy or cheap wine ever again.
The next few minutes are a whirlwind of teeth brushing, face washing, downing a coconut water with aspirin, and giving up on my hair.
In a panic, I toss my dead phone into my bag along with my stethoscope and speed to the hospital.
Today, I need to feel in control—but the universe is reminding me that I’m basically careening toward a cliff with the brakes and steering cut—I can’t even have one last normal day before it all comes crashing down.
Tears wet my cheeks as I drive. For so long, I was determined to get by on my own.
Now that Aidan’s back in my life, I realize that’s not what I want.
His warmth and unwavering support have carried me through challenges before and I crave them again now.
I need them now. I need him . Although all I want to do is lean on Aidan, I love him too much to lay my burdens on him at such a pivotal moment.
But I don’t know if I can do it without him.
What kind of woman would I be if I can’t even go to a clinic by myself?
Maybe I really don’t have what it takes to be a doctor.
If I can’t even handle my own thirty-minute outpatient visit when I know how dire the stakes are, how do I expect to carry the emotional weight of working with sick children day in and day out?
Even in the unlikely event that the biopsy comes back clear, this might be a sign that I’m simply not cut out for this job.
I think of the kids dancing to Aidan’s guitar as he did a dorky dance in the rec room.
Marie’s shaggy hair that took forever to grow back. My chest constricts.
It’s six-thirty when I arrive at the hospital, nauseated from more than just a hangover.
I pull it together and soak my tears up with the sleeve of my white coat.
I’ve already been excused for the latter half of the day for my biopsy.
The last thing I need is to be late on top of it.
The attending gives me a sharp look but doesn’t comment on my tardiness. A small blessing.