“April, Michelle has advanced stage carcinoma. Her medications are highly toxic. Although she tries to maintain some level of social normality the fact still remains—she’s ill!” I reprimanded. “Where is she? I need to see her,” I demanded.
Azmir rejoined us bringing his long and comforting arms back around my waist. I was so preoccupied with Michelle’s omission that my concerns for her privacy had escaped me. Dan Smith who was just a few feet away, but in hearing range, hurried over to the nurse station and asked was Michelle allowed any visitors yet. He then came over to Azmir and me and informed, “The last word from the doctor was that he was waiting on the results of the tests they’ve run. This could take a while considering the time; there aren’t many staff members on duty. So we’re waiting to hear back on that.” The more I heard the tighter my fists gripped aside my hips. Azmir must have felt the tension in my body because his grip constricted, too.
“Thanks, Mr. Smith,” I said then realizing that he didn’t know who Azmir was. This was a good thing because I didn’t know if dating a business associate would be frowned upon. It was too late because Dan extended his hand and said, “Dan Smith. I’m Michelle’s uncle.”
I stilled not knowing what to do. “I’m sorry, Mr. Smith this is a friend of mine, Divine Jacobs. Divine, Dan Smith is the Smith in Smith, Katz & Adams Sports Medicine…my boss.”
The two men shook hands as Azmir said, “A pleasure to meet you. It’s unfortunate under such circumstances, however. I’m hopeful of Michelle’s recovery.”
“Yes. Thank you very much,” Mr. Smith murmured trying to manage a smile.
After about a half an hour, I was able to see her. I walked into the room terrified of what I could possibly find. Michelle was strapped to so many wires that were connected to machines that beeped at different times and tones. I walked over to the bed where she appeared to be sleeping. I rubbed my hand over her forehead. I didn’t think she was conscious or would awake from her deep sleep.
She slowly opened her eyes and whispered through a dry throat, “Rayna. I’m so sorry!” as she began to tear up.
“No, baby. No! Don’t!” I said tearing up myself. “I just need for you to be okay. Alright?” I felt a pointed sensation through my chest, gripping me as I stood and gazed at the strongest person I knew appearing feeble.
“I tried not to bother you but I got scared when the doctor mentioned me going under the knife. I thought you’d want to know,” she whispered.
“You had better called me. You should have told me Dr. Peterson ordered you here this morning. You should’ve called me on the way here.” I felt the tremors in my nose as I struggled to stop the tears from falling.
“You know I wouldn’t do that. By the way, did you get some?” she asked referring to Azmir. We both giggled or at least she tried to. Her throat seemed extremely parched but I understood the sentiment. After the laugh, I just stood there looking down at her feeling grateful for her humor. There was a pause for my thoughts.
“Well, hoe, did you?” she asked letting me know the question was not out of manners but true curiosity instead. So I had to indulge her.
“I was a few minutes away from detonating when I got the call.” I smiled with residue tears in my eyes, feeling a bit bashful and naughty at the same time.
“Damn it!” she pouted. We giggled again.