Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
The hospital garden looks different from the last time I was here. The tree, which was sprouting leaves when Mom was admitted, is now a blaze of reds and oranges. Everything is muted by the dark clouds overhead. I could have waited until tomorrow, but I knew I’d lose my nerve if I did.
I sit on the same bench Cosmos and I sat on before, where he told me he wanted to be a superhero when he was little. A present, large and rectangular, rests heavy on my lap. The solid brown wrapping paper and red bow feel too understated for something so significant.
I straighten the bow before digging my phone from my pocket and sending the text.
I know we haven’t talked in a while, but I’d like to give you something. Would you meet me in the hospital garden whenever you have a break?
I came prepared to wait for a while, but almost immediately, my phone vibrates. The buzzing in my chest drops to my stomach. I almost don’t look. I feel terrified of what I might find. He’s going to say he can’t meet me. It’s too late.
But it’s not from Cosmos. It’s just the group chat with Kiara and Aunt Joan. I’m not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Kiara:
Have you done it yet?
I just got here.
Kiara:
So.
He hasn’t responded
Kiara:
He might be in surgery.
He might have moved on
I picture him making out with a nurse or Dr. Barbie in the closet where we had our first kiss, and I want to vomit. Maybe he finally gave up hoping for magic and realized Dr. Barbie is better for him than I’ll ever be. I mean, who wouldn’t want a woman like that? Smart, put together, gorgeous.
Aunt Joan:
Stop catastrophizing, sugarplum.
Kiara:
He doesn’t seem the type to jump ship that easily.
Easy? I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. And our last conversation didn’t exactly go well. I never responded to the poems, either. He probably wants nothing to do with me.
Kiara:
You’re spiraling. Take a deep breath.
I do as she says, but the air gets trapped in my tight lungs.
Closing my eyes, I count backwards from ten and focus on my breathing the way my therapist showed me.
Each exhale is longer than the inhale. Nice and slow.
My pulse goes from a gallop to a trot. A marginal difference, but a significant one.
I open my eyes and look down at my phone again.
Kiara:
He’s worth the risk, isn’t he?
“Yes,” I whisper aloud, the single word steadying me.
This might go horribly wrong—now, or in the future.
He could say he’s not interested. He could cautiously agree to give it another go and then break my heart in a week.
Still, all the worst-case scenarios pale in the light of the best-case scenarios.
I don’t want to be na?ve or unrealistic.
But somehow, hope has snuck back into my heart, and I can’t seem to squeeze it out completely.
I can’t keep pushing people away just because I don’t know if they’ll like me, if they’ll judge or reject me.
I can’t keep hiding who I am, what I like, who I love.
Letting Kiara and Aunt Joan in after Mom died was a bright star in a sea of dark space.
They haven’t turned me away. They’ve loved me.
Cosmos might not do the same, but it’s time I give him the option, the chance.
The door behind me squeaks, and I turn to look. The sun glints off the glass, and all I see is a man silhouetted in the doorway. I squint, trying to make out the face. My heart races with anticipation.
Then, he steps forward. The door closes. The light shifts. It’s not Cosmos. It’s the other resident I saw him with, the one I spilled soup on in the cafeteria. Cold dread settles in my gut. Cosmos sent his friend to tell me to go home. To handle me.
He holds out his hand. “In case you don’t remember, I’m Viraj.”
I stand, using the rectangular present as a shield over my heart.
“I remember,” I mumble, not taking his hand. Truthfully, I hadn’t remembered his name.
“Cosmos sent me.”
Three little words. Confirmation. He’s not coming. He couldn’t even bother to break it to me himself. My whole body feels heavy, and I sink back onto the bench. I guess I have my answer.
“Oh, no. No, it’s not like that,” he says, clearly responding to the way I deflated. He comes closer and squats down in front of the bench so we’re face to face. “He just wasn’t available right away and didn’t want you waiting out here. It’s supposed to rain soon.”
“He couldn’t have texted?”
Viraj’s thin lips narrow, and he shrugs. “Maybe he thought this would go over better with a personal touch.” He straightens to his full height and holds his hand out, motioning toward the door. “I think he also wanted some privacy.”
He doesn’t want everyone seeing me freak out.
I swallow the lump in my throat and numbly follow Viraj.
The crinkle of the brown paper package rings loud in my ears.
The weight of it against my chest keeps me grounded.
Whatever Cosmos has to say, I’m going to give him his present.
Even if he doesn’t want to get back together, I want him to have it.
I want to make sure he knows how much he meant to me, even if only for a short time.
He was right. I didn’t trust him. I guess I still don’t, because I’m having a hard time imagining that Viraj is leading me to a happy reunion.
But, when I think back on all the time we spent together, he never gave me any reason to doubt him.
Cosmos was open and present. He was kind and giving.
He saw me un-showered and makeup-less, in ratty sweats, and crying.
I broke down and accused him of not saving Mom in the surgery waiting room, and he still pursued me.
Now, it’s time to pursue him.
So, if I have to wait in some random corner of the hospital while he finishes up with a patient or in surgery or whatever it is he’s doing, I’ll wait. I’m not running away anymore. At least, not without knowing I gave this my all.
Viraj doesn’t lead me to a random corner of the hospital. He takes me up to the fourth floor and stops in front of an un-numbered wood door. It seems vaguely familiar, but so much of the hospital looks the same it’s hard to tell. Did he bring me where I think he brought me?
Viraj’s smile is secretive and mischievous as he knocks, then saunters off.
The door swings open.
Cosmos is standing in the storage closet. The same one where we had our first kiss.
He’s wearing his scrubs. His hair is a little longer, his chin covered with the start of a neatly trimmed beard. He’s got the closet light off. On the back shelf, one of those fake electric candles casts a gentle glow.
“Hey.” He rubs a hand over his chin, and then, as if he’s only just realizing that we’re still standing in the doorway, he steps aside.
I swallow my fear and grip the package a little tighter. The door clicks closed, and Cosmos locks it. I stare at the single candle on the shelf in the dimly lit closet.
“I wanted to set the mood. But that was all I could find.” He rubs his palm down his face, a nervous tic I’d almost forgotten. “I borrowed it from a patient. It’s cheesy. I know. We can turn it off.”
He flicks on the overhead light, while my mind tries to catch up with what’s happening. He wanted to set the mood for what? And what does it mean that after going through the effort of finding the candle, he turned on the light?
We both open our mouths to speak at the same time and laugh awkwardly. I can’t meet his eyes, afraid and hopeful all at once.
“How are you?” His hand reaches almost to my arm before dropping to his side. I want to pick it back up and guide him to touch me. I want to reach out and touch his cheek, feel the scratch of his new beard against my palm. Instead, I just stare at his long fingers.
“Goo—” I stop myself, take a deep breath, and answer truthfully. “It’s been hard. I’m honestly not okay.”
He makes a pained noise and takes a tiny step closer. I rub the red ribbon on the present between my fingers and try not to lose my courage.
“I was a wreck when Mom… died. I didn’t have the energy to hold back all the things I normally keep inside, control my emotions, or keep from melting down.
Instead, I lashed out at everyone close to me.
At you.” I glance at him, then back down at the package in my hands.
“You’re right that I didn’t trust you. I didn’t trust anyone to,” my lungs constrict, but I force myself to keep going, “love me. Except Mom. And she…” I take a deep breath to steady myself.
Cosmos leans closer, his warmth a steadying force. We don’t touch anywhere, but the space between us feels like it’s shrinking, and that gives me the motivation to press on.
“Aunt Joan and Kiara proved me wrong,” I say. “They’ve been there for me through everything.”
“I’m glad you weren’t alone.” There’s a gruff, choked quality to his voice that makes me look up. “I wanted to be there.”
His expression is so tender, but my cheeks burn with shame. It’s my fault he wasn’t with me. I pushed him away.
“It’s okay, Hazel. I understand,” he says, as if he can read the guilt on my face.
“I’ve been seeing a therapist,” I blurt.
“That’s good.” He takes one step closer, but still doesn’t touch me. “And what did this therapist say?”
“That I should give you a chance.” I rub the ribbon between my fingers, studying the gift rather than him.
Cosmos brushes his fingers against my arm, so softly I’m not sure it’s happened until I look down and see him do it again. I feel as if my heart might splinter from the hope that’s pounding against my ribs.
“Is that what you want?” he asks.
“Here.” I panic and awkwardly push the present into his chest, letting it go like my fingers burn.
Opening it, he looks at the thick stack of papers. Silent. Intently reading the title page. I knew this was going to be hard. I was nervous already, but now I feel terrified. Like he’s holding my naked heart in his hands rather than 286 pages of a romance novel.