12. Isaac
Chapter 12
Isaac
Fourth Year of Medical School
9 Years Ago, September
“ D id you get everything submitted last night?” Jo peppers me with questions before I can even say hello. The submission deadline for our tuition scholarship was, in fact, last night. And yes, I did get everything submitted. Contrary to what Jo believes, I am a fully capable human.
“Yes, Mother. I sure did.”
Her fist collides with the side of my arm. “Do not compare me to your mother.”
“Oof,” I reply, grabbing my arm where she just hit me. “What do you mean? She only left us because she loved us.” My voice is playful, but the skin on my face feels taut and warm. I should never compare Jo to my mother.
After Sam was born, he was diagnosed with a Wilms tumor. Nothing that couldn’t be treated, but one appointment with the doctor and Mom split.
The tumor was taken care of with one round of treatment.
Mom never came back.
But the cancer did.
“C’mon, punk. Sam’s expecting us at two.” I glance down at my watch. Fifteen minutes. She yanks open the passenger door to the Taco and clambers inside. I round the back and follow suit. We drive in silence the entire way, tucked away in our own thoughts. It’s not until I put the truck in park that Jo speaks up. “I’m a little nervous.”
I meet her at the front bumper. “He’s been talking about you coming to visit for weeks now.” Jo links her arm with mine as we make our way across the parking lot and through the automatic doors to the hospital lobby. Up the elevator and down the hall, we’re met by two smiling faces at the nurses station and the smell of the most unpleasant lemon-scented disinfectant. Nancy, the charge nurse, has greeted me daily during Sam’s current two-week stay in the pediatric ICU.
“And who’s this beautiful young woman?” she asks as we approach. Jo takes her extended hand with her own. “Nancy.”
“I’m Jo.” They shake politely and break apart. Nancy looks from Jo, to me, and back before her eyes land firmly on mine.
“Girlfriend?” She asks, none the wiser, and Jo and I both immediately shake our heads.
“Classmates,” Jo says with confidence. Since the awkward encounter at Kyle and Kelsey’s wedding barbecue last year, our relationship has been different, but I didn’t realize I was demoted from friend to classmate. Ouch . Nancy nods, skepticism written on every line and wrinkle of her face.
“Well, then,” she pauses, gesturing to the door. “Sammy’s waiting for you!”
The door squeaks as I push it open with one flat palm. Sam is sitting up in bed, his legs crossed, staring at the television. “Hey, Sammy-boy!” It takes every single ounce of my spirit to walk into his room without a hint of sadness. Jo’s fingers wrap around my forearm as we enter. I clear my throat, a subtle cue for her to evaluate her body language, and she responds by releasing my arm and approaching the bed.
“Hey, Sam!” He eyes her curiously, like she’s different than what he expected. “It’s been so long!” Her voice is chipper, and she extends her right hand for a fist bump. He obliges, still evaluating the interaction with the questioning stare of an almost twelve-year-old.
“You look different,” he says finally, and Jo chuckles.
“It’s because I have to deal with your brother everyday.” Sam laughs. The most brilliant sound. “Next time you see me, my hair will be completely gray!”
“You wanna help me with this puzzle?” Completely ignoring my existence, he pulls a cardboard box out of the bedside table and sets it on his bed. “It’s Ninja Turtles.” Jo pulls the recliner next to the bed and situates Sam’s tray table, adjusting the height until it’s a perfect puzzle board. I settle onto the lumpy couch in the corner next to the window, glad to give Sam another human to interact with.
Hours fly as I watch puzzle after puzzle get built and demolished, accompanied by a film reel of Jo’s best jokes and one-liners. Ninja Turtles, Batman, jungle animals, and a train. Sam hasn’t laughed this much in months. It’s only when Dad clears his throat next to me that I realize my eyes are dry from watching her. He’s joined me on the couch.
I’m not sure how long he’s been there or what kind of trance I’ve been in.
“She’s good with him,” he says when I return to Earth.
“She’s perfect,” I correct.
“Thank you for that,” I say on our way back to the truck. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, but the sky remains beautiful shades of orange and pink.
“It’s just not fucking fair,” she murmurs when we finally reach the door of her apartment. Every ounce of joy and hope that shone on her face the last few hours has disappeared, replaced by lines of worry and despair. “He’s perfect and brilliant and smart. He’s so smart, Isaac.”
I nod, taking the keys from her hand and unlocking the door. We’re barely inside when she launches herself at my chest and wraps her arms around me, her body completely overtaken with heart-wrenching sobs. I pull her tightly to my chest, resting my cheek on the top of her head and closing my eyes. “I know,” I whisper. “I know.”
My fingers trace up and down her spine until her sobs calm to quiet sniffles. Jo cares so deeply that it makes my cold, dead heart want to feel. She makes me want to try, even when my brain whispers that not even Mom loved me enough to stay. Even when I’m half-convinced I don’t deserve a chance to love someone like her.
“Hey.” I pull away and examine her swollen, bloodshot eyes. Regardless of the scenario or reason, it feels like she’s made to fit in my embrace. She blinks a few times, finally meeting my gaze. “He’s gonna be okay. He’s a tough kid.”
“It’s not just that.” She sniffles, winding her fingers into the back of my shirt. My skin goes from cool to burning in an instant.
“What, then?” I release her waist with my right hand and push a strand of hair from her forehead.
“Your dad works so hard,” she exclaims. “I know he already works extra shifts to pay for Sam’s treatments and his health is suffering!” Jo squeezes her eyes closed and I fight the urge to plant my lips on hers. “And you, tutoring all hours of the week when you should be studying for your own classes? It’s just not fair.”
I fail the all-encompassing war in my brain and press my lips to her forehead gently before pulling away and monitoring her expression. She stares up at me, mouth agape and silent, so I do it again, letting my lips linger for a few beats longer the second time. “It’s all going to work out, Jo. I’ve got this.” She rests her forehead on my chest and takes a few deep breaths, calming her heart. I do the same, but my heart rate remains elevated.
“I need to tell you something.” She pulls away suddenly, backing up a few paces. A barely-perceivable smile appears on her mouth. My brow furrows.
“Okay?” I don’t mean it to, but it comes out like a question.
“I talked to Dr. Zin about the scholarship. And he couldn’t tell me much, but he could tell me that only two people applied.”
I nod. This is great news. Why does she look like I’m going to be mad? “You and me?”
She continues without answering my question. “I pulled my name from the running. You got the scholarship!” she exclaims.
“You did what?” Pressure builds behind my eyes. She lied to me? “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”
She takes another step back, raising her hands in surrender. “Please don’t be upset with me.”
“You promised me, Jo.” I run a palm down my face, clenching and unclenching my jaw. “You promised that we would both give it our all.”
She steps toward me, but I increase the distance between us with three large backward strides. “It’s not a big deal, Isaac. You need it more than I do!”
“It’s a big deal, Jocelyn.” I shake my head. It always starts with one. One half-truth. One lie. One person thinking they know what’s best for me. “A big fucking deal.” Though I’m sure that at some point in my human existence I will regret my reaction, I hold her gaze and let out an exasperated breath before turning on my heel and grabbing the door handle. “You lied to me.”
“Isaac, c’mon,” she pleads, treading on my heels as I exit her apartment.
“ Don’t follow me.” And I slam the door.