Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Devon
The parking garage of the Children’s Hospital looms over us, the entrance crammed with cars all waiting in line for the ticket to pop out of the machine.
“Can you please just tell me what the radiologist said?” Jeff asks again, as he pulls up another car length.
“You don’t need to park. Just drop me at the main entrance,” I tap my finger on the window pointing to the lobby, “—unless you’re meeting your friend again.”
“Seriously, Devon. Stop changing the topic.” He takes his foot off the brake and we coast forward again. Serious Jeff is so annoyingly pushy.
“I told you what he said. He said you really fucked up my ankle. Left some sort of sponge inside my body that’s causing that big bump on my calf—”
“Do you take anything seriously?” he asks, cutting off my shenanigans.
“Yes.” Not really. Well, maybe sometimes algebra.
Even though I do like that funny cartoon that asks the kid to find x and he just circles the x.
Drugs. Drugs are serious. I make sure I don’t joke about drugs because I once overdosed on marijuana in high school.
Though that’s a pretty funny story, too. Shit, what do I take seriously?
“I take mental health seriously,” I say.
Jeff reaches out the window and grabs the ticket then shoves it in the pocket in his shorts.
He seems to be processing my statement about mental health as he pulls the car into a spot near the elevator.
I still can’t get over the fact that he’s driving this tiny little hybrid.
I’m so used to Kevin’s gas-guzzling Tahoe.
“Well, that’s good—about the mental health thing. But can you take your own health seriously for a second? Did the radiologist mention a tear?” he asks.
I put both hands on the console between us and stare right into his eyes. I make sure my face is deadly serious.
“In the sponge you left behind?”
He tilts his head back against his headrest and lets out the world’s longest puff of air.
“You. Are. Impossible,” he says, staring at his car roof for divine intervention.
“Impossibly awesome,” I murmur as I push open the door, step out and then lower my head back in. “Thanks for today. Seriously, Jeff. I appreciate all of it.”
And I do. I would have been waiting for hours at any other imaging center to get the MRI, but Jeff got me right in and introduced me to Cherisse, who is obviously my soulmate because she told me she blackmailed Jeff for cheese danishes.
Then I had a radiologist read me the results only moments later.
Please. Like that ever happens in real life.
All of it was because of Jeff. I smile and push the car door shut.
I’m surprised when I hear the driver’s side door shut and footsteps behind me. I turn and he’s beside me, matching my stride.
“Dr. Devita made you a disc of the imaging,” I tell him, pulling out the CD from my purse and handing it to him. He snatches it from me like I might pull it back.
“Easy boy. Are you meeting your friend again?” I ask as he presses the button for the elevator.
He clears his throat a little and looks at his apple watch.
“I was thinking of coming up—with you—if that’s ok?”
Is it ok with me?
“Why wouldn’t it be ok?” I shrug. I mean I’ll get an excited earful from Syd about it for sure. And the girls might swoon at his feet, but who am I to deprive them of the simple joys in life?
He follows me to the elevator and presses the arrow, then holds the door open for me.
I lean against the glass and watch him select the floor for the tunnel.
My gears are grinding now, and I can’t get them to stop.
I understood Jeff’s run across town to check on my ankle.
He just isn’t the type of guy to ignore anyone’s call for help, especially if it’s in his area of medicine.
And escorting me to Jefferson? Yeah, I get that, too.
He works there and could pull the strings.
But this? Few people want to spend their day off from the hospital in a hospital.
“Jeff?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want this to come out wrong or anything, but why are you coming with me?” And like most things that come out of my mouth it sounds too direct. Sugar-free and sharp.
“I’ll tell you that if you tell me what happened last night,” he says softly, his eyes on the side of my face.
Shit. Never mind. He’s not getting any more of my crazy until he shows me a little of his. If it exists.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Too much tequila.” It’s not a total lie. I risk a glance his way and find him studying me.
He nods once, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Alright, then. I guess we’ll both be left in the dark.”
The doors open and he gestures with one arm for me to lead the way. I narrow my eyes at him as I pass. This just makes him smile wider.
Syd is standing against the glass windows on the right side of the light-filled waiting room.
She looks up and sees me approaching and her smile fills me with warmth.
But then she sees Jeff beside me, and I understand the true meaning of the phrase second fiddle.
If I thought what I got was a smile, there’s no word in the dictionary for what her face does when she sees him.
She tugs my arm forward and leans into me, attempting a whisper, “You brought Dr. Hotass! The girls and Sean are gonna freak.”
I turn to Jeff hoping he didn’t hear, and he lifts his brows at me and asks, “Did you come up with Dr. Hotass? I like it a lot better than Dr. Dick.”
“No. Your ass isn’t hot to me,” I tell him, taking the visitor tag Syd’s holding out to me and slapping it on his chest with more force than necessary. He barely blinks. I turn to the receptionist desk and sign him in beneath our names while he asks Syd how she’s doing.
On our way down the hall, Syd squeezes between Jeff and me and loops her elbows around ours.
“Alright, Jeff. Here’s the dirt. Kayla is a veteran.
She’s been in and out since I was here two years ago.
I love the girl, but you can’t believe a thing she says.
Sean’s new to treatment. This is his first stint and he still doesn’t understand why he’s here in the first place.
Denial isn’t just a river in South America—”
“Africa,” I correct.
“Yeah. That’s what I said.” Syd throws me a look. “Anyway. Abby shares a room with him. She hasn’t spoken a word to anyone since she was admitted three weeks ago. The nurses have no choice but to NG tube her because she’s silently refusing.” Syd takes a breath when the elevator arrives.
“The NG tube feeds them through their nose,” I tell him, and he looks at me like no shit Sherlock. It’s easy to forget he’s a doctor when he’s wearing a Space Jam t-shirt and a pair of Chicago Bulls basketball shorts.
“I told Kayla I’d help her with her pre-calc so you two can chill in Sean and Abby’s room or see if the nurses need anything,” I say, knowing Syd prefers to spend her time with Sean. He responds well to her. All of the patients respond well to Syd. She’s a force.
“Stick with me, kid,” Syd tells Jeff with a nudge. And he gives her a smile that would have knocked me out at 17. But she’s still standing.
The elevator door opens to a space that takes my breath away every time I step into it.
Natural light pours over the floor and walls like syrup.
There are deep plush couches and barnwood tables and white shelves lined with books of every color like a beaded friendship bracelet stretched across the interior walls.
It’s quiet and warm—a safe-place I imagine whenever I need a break from my fast paced, out-of-control life.
I breathe in the clean scent of lemons and wave to three nurses at the bay.
“Hey, Devon. Syd.” Gina steps out from behind the counter.
“And who is this?” Her eyebrows disappear into her dark curly hair as she wraps her arms around Sydney and eyes Jeff over her head.
I hear Syd attempt a whisper into Gina’s ear.
“Dr. Hotass.” The girl needs serious help in the volume control department.
“I’m Jeff.”
He steps forward and extends a hand that Gina takes with one arm still around Syd’s shoulders. Gina saw Syd through the worst of her battle against anorexia and the bond that they formed during that struggle is nigh unbreakable. It’s the silver lining that Syd never lost sight of.
“Ah, you’re the new guy. The Jefferson surgeon…” Gina trails off and looks at me.
“Jesus, Gina. Don’t tell him we talk about him. He’s already approaching maximum ego,” I say and then hurry the hell out of there before she says something to further embarrass me. Jeff grins and I pretend not to see it as I slip into Kayla’s room and plop down in the first chair I see.
“Rough night last night?” Kayla’s voice is raspy from the damage she’s done to her throat.
I nod and meet her eyes, the red lines still so pronounced that there’s barely any white around her iris.
I can remember when Syd looked like this.
When her elbows and knees jutted out from her skin beneath the sheets and I could see bones through the gown that the human eye was never meant to see.
Syd’s cheeks were sunken, but Kayla’s are slightly puffy, her body’s inflammatory response to the damaged salivary glands.
“I danced myself back to the hospital,” I tell her, pulling my nose up into a regretful wince.
“At least you went out with a bang,” she says. “I’d kill for some dancing.”
It’s a simple enough statement, but I hear what she isn’t saying. Syd has trained me to see and hear the voice of the eating disorder in even the simplest of phrases. Does Kayla really want to dance or is it the need to burn calories screaming at her right now?
“Pre-calculus is just as fun as dancing.” I grin and Kayla literally sinks down into her fluffy white pillow, her angular chin slipping out of view last.
“Can we not?” she murmurs.
“Yes, we can!” I say in my cheerleader voice and she cranes her neck back up and has the decency to look embarrassed for me.
“My book is in the study room.” She starts to stand and I lift my hand to stop her. If she goes to get it, she’ll be gone forever, avoiding the introduction to the radian circle like it was sent from hell to collect her soul.
“I got it,” I tell her, and she narrows one eye at me in a look that says, Touché, you pain in my ass.
I head back out into the common area and watch the city move through the long expanse of glass.
Cars crawl around the corners of the busy square in front of the hospital while pedestrians hurry up and down the flanks of 34th street.
Always so busy. I’m exhausted just looking at it.
I turn my gaze upward to the skyscrapers grappling for purchase in the soft blue sky.
The spire of the Comcast Building pokes out above them all, claiming its victory beneath a soft streak of white clouds.
It’s a beautiful view—if you’re into that sort of thing.
I slow down a little as I pass Abby and Sean’s room, curiosity overruling my good sense as it always does. I hear Syd’s squeaky laughter and Sean’s deep chuckle. Jeff’s voice is next.
“The worst part of all of it is that it is all so deeply unfunny, ya know. But we have to laugh. To get through it.”
“So, what happened to your sister?” Syd asks. I picture her leaning toward him, eyes wide, her fingers spinning her eyebrow ring like they do when you’ve got her rapt attention. And Jeff certainly has her rapt attention.
“She battled it until she was nineteen and went for six months to inpatient treatment near here actually—at Renfrew. She beat it there. I mean she still battles. But now she’s winning.
” There’s a heavy pause, then Jeff says, “She’s got a daughter now.
And she’s happy. Genuinely. There is an entire life to be lived—after. ”
“Only if you win,” someone whispers and I crane my neck, trying to peek around the door frame.
It’s Abby. And this is the first time I’ve heard the girl speak.
“Not everyone wins,” she says and the pain in those words makes my chest so heavy I have to lean back against the wall.
“No. You’re right, Abby. And it’s not as easy as I just made it sound,” he whispers. “But you’re here and you’re fighting and that’s the first step.”
“True,” Syd admits.
“And I’ll tell you the same thing I told my sister every time she refused a meal and had to have that tube shoved up her nostril.” Jeff pauses and I can feel every ounce of pain drift off of him into the hallway as he remembers. “You are not alone.”
“Amen,” Sean says.
I close my eyes and echo that Amen in my head.
Jeff has personal experience with this. No wonder he was willing to come.
Pieces of the Jeff shaped puzzle are starting to click into place in my head.
And as I open my eyes and push off the wall, still reeling from the emotion beneath his words, I can’t help but admit that I no longer want to avoid him at all costs.
I want to know more.