Despite It All

Chapter 8

"So, what do we think?"

It's 1400 on a Thursday. And, despite myself, I am covered in hair.

Soft but fragile strands of beautiful, golden-brown hair have fallen in disarray within the small walls of Jess' personal bathroom. The light blue-tiled floor has seen many things in its duration here, and I'd bet that these wistful strands are one of the best—symbolic of her determination, strength, and willingness to take matters into her own hands.

Jess thoroughly examines herself in her could-have-better-lighting bathroom, and I observe as she timidly runs a delicate hand over her now soft, smooth scalp.

She looks beautiful—as if there were ever a doubt.

A genuine smile graces her thin face, "Okay, am I allowed to say I kind of look like a badass?"

I laugh, "Um, duh. You totally do."

Silence hovers for a moment, and I allow her to reflect on the decision she has made. My thoughts quickly drift, and I find myself wondering if Mia is out of surgery yet. I hope Logan is okay. I can just see him now, pacing the small waiting room, hand in his hair.

Small, frail arms wrap around me.

I'm drawn back to my surroundings, and find myself engulfed in Jess. Her body is fragile, thinned out as a result of her chemotherapy and loss of appetite. Light bruises decorate her pale skin, seemingly casting soft shadows upon her brightness. Her legs shake mildly, tired from the exertion of standing for a long time. But her hug... her hug is filled with warmth, strength, and appreciation. It rejuvenates me. A faint whisper falls from her slightly cracked lips, "Thank you."

***

I exit Jess' room and head to my workstation. At the nurses' station is a smug, smiling Sarah.

"What's with you?" I ask.

A continued grin, "Oh, nothing."

I roll my eyes, "I don't have time to pester you now, I requested blood from the blood bank and it'll be here any minute. But I'll find out later!"

"Or sooner," she retorts with a smile before leaving to answer a patient's call light.

I approach my workstation, aiming to grab my stethoscope and pen—I didn't want them to get hair all over them. However, I see a fresh coffee and a small, brown bag with an "-L" written on it nestled nicely amongst my things. The coffee is in a to-go cup, 'flat white' written on it in permanent marker. I peek inside the brown bag and my heart absolutely melts.

A blueberry scone.

My heart beats rapidly, and I feel a warmth manifest deep within my gut. His daughter is having surgery today. A huge, daunting event that no 2-year-old should ever have to go through. And after that, she'll be receiving her first ever dose of chemotherapy. This could arguably be one of the most stressful, painful days of his life.

And he was thinking of me.

My phone rings, a desired interruption. I can't dwell on this now.

"Hey Laur, it's Kelly. Blood bank just sent your unit of blood. Where shall I bring it?"

"Oh, I'm just at my workstation. Thanks, Charge."

I take a sip of my coffee, allowing the caffeine and warmth to rejuvenate me.

"Here you go, babe," Kelly hands me the unit of blood.

"Thanks."

"Hey, we're going to be short tonight. Any chance you want to stay late?"

I groan, "How late?"