Chapter 7 #2
Cosmos lets go of my elbow, but not before his thumb grazes the tender skin on the inside of my forearm.
An accident, of course, but it makes my fingers and toes tingle, goosebumps popping up on my arms. Something low in my belly tightens.
I twist to thank him for catching me, and his eyes trap mine.
Just like before, everything stops.
“Do you think things always reset?” he asks with a puzzled look. “We should try again, figure out the parameters of this thing.”
I shake my head. More experimentation with Cosmos sounds like a horrible idea.
He’s already making me feel all these fruitless feelings that can’t go anywhere.
I don’t have the space in my chest for more heartbreak.
I need to take care of Mom and finish my thesis for my MFA, and find a job so I can pay for Mom’s medical bills. “I don’t have time.”
His grin spreads into a full smile. “We have all the time in the world.” His eyes darken, pupils dilating. “We could do anything with that time.”
I swallow. There’s no way he means to sound that suggestive.
He just told me he can’t date me. He’s definitely not thinking of wrapping his arms around me and kissing me right here in the middle of the cafeteria.
My mind conjures that image all too clearly.
Cosmos, digging his fingers into my hair.
Parting my lips with his tongue. Pressing his body flush against mine.
“If we can figure out how to use the time stop to permanently manipulate objects… think of what we could do,” Cosmos says, proving his thoughts aren’t traveling the same road as mine.
“What do you mean?” I squeak, trying to recover myself by clearing my throat.
“Epic pranks aside, think of what this could mean right here in the hospital. We could keep a patient from bleeding out during surgery, remove a tumor with almost no risk…”
Save my mom.
We stare at each other, both realizing the implications.
Hope flickers like a fragile candle, then sputters out abruptly when I blink and the chaos of the cafeteria crashes in around me for a microsecond.
We’re the only ones unaffected when time stops.
The two of us can’t do surgery, especially not if we have to look at each other the whole time.
“But everything resets,” I say after meeting his gaze again.
“One occurrence doesn’t make a law, only a hypothesis.
” He rubs his neck. “We’ve barely tried anything.
There might be ways to make changes permanent, ways to make whatever’s happening stronger.
” His passion is written in every line of his face.
He wants to figure this out and use it to help people. “We have to try.”
I’m not sure exactly what I’m agreeing to, but I nod. “Okay.”
He shows off his dimples with a wide smile. “Then I’ll definitely comes see you again, Hazel.”
The way he says my name makes my chest tight, but I ignore the sensation and look away. Everything starts again, as if our conversation never happened.
Cosmos slaps Viraj on the back, sloshing what little soup remains in his bowl. “If I’d removed a twenty-pound tumor, I’d be buying everyone a round of drinks.”
I’m surprised Cosmos kept track of the conversation so well. I definitely didn’t.
“There’s no drinking allowed on hospital property,” Viraj grumbles, trying to wipe off his shirt with a napkin while balancing his tray with his other hand.
Feeling like an intruder in the conversation, I quietly apologize one more time and move to sneak away, but a blond in a lab coat stops me with a hand on my arm. “Your mom’s in Dr. Newberry’s trial, right?”
I vaguely recognize her. She was with Dr. Newberry when he came to Mom’s room that first day, the young-looking one. She’s wearing a fitted A-line skirt today, and her long legs and high ponytail make me think of an eighteen-year-old cheerleader or a Barbie.
“How’s she doing?” she asks.
I’m surprised at how genuinely concerned she sounds.
“Fine,” I answer, wanting to flee and crawl back into the safe hole of Mom’s room.
“And how are you doing? You holding up?” She doesn’t pause for a breath before adding, “You can join us, if you want. I’m sure you have lots of questions about the trial, and we’d be happy to answer.
It’s really an amazing opportunity. Your mom will probably be written up in medical journals, seeing as she’ll be one of the first patients. ”
My stomach clenches. I don’t want Mom to be in medical journals. I want her to live.
“No, thank you.” I say at the same time as Cosmos says, “She can’t.”
Dr. Barbie gives him a funny look, and I glance over my shoulder at him, trying to figure out why he felt the need to butt in.
He’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the pizza on his tray like it’s about to jump up and attack him.
“I mean, I’m sure she wants to get back to check on her mom. I know I would.”
For someone who says they want to spend more time with me, he’s working extra hard to get rid of me. Not that I care. He’s right. I should get back to Mom. She’s probably done talking with Chipper Social Worker Julia by now.
Dr. Barbie switches the banana she’s holding into her left hand and shoves her right hand in my direction.
“I’m Samantha. Any time you have questions, have your nurse page me.
Or if you just want to talk. My aunt had cancer.
She’s doing great now, but it was rough for a while, so I know exactly what you’re going through. ”
No. No, you don’t. Why is it that whenever anyone hears that someone you love has cancer, they immediately tell you about someone they know who beat it?
Like it’s supposed to reassure you that your loved one will be fine because their loved one is fine.
Life doesn’t work that way. Cancer plus treatment doesn’t always equal a cure.
If it did, Mom and I wouldn’t be here at all.
We wouldn’t be doing this trial. The chemo would have worked, and we’d be back at her place worrying about how to keep the lights on, rather than how to keep her alive.
“Seriously, you just find me anytime you want to talk.” The concerned look on her face makes me think of the way a kindergarten teacher might look at a child who scraped their knee.
“As long as I’m not in surgery, I’ll pawn my other patients off on these two bozos,” she juts a thumb at Cosmos and Viraj, “and we’ll have a nice heart-to-heart. Okay?”
Is this the bedside manner she takes with everyone? Trying to make them feel like they’re special, treating them like children who need a dose of sugary sweet condescension in order to take their medicine? Personally, I prefer Cosmos’ cocky self-assuredness.
I smile through gritted teeth. “Thanks.” Taking two steps back, I ease away from them. “Sorry again about the soup,” I say to Viraj, then turn on my heels and walk away.
I can feel Cosmos’ attention fixed on me, but I don’t look back.