Page 60 of Assigned

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Riley

Ilet a wave wash over my feet, and it rises until my calves are underwater. The water recedes and sand loosens under my feet as it’s swept back to sea. Like the hope I had just days ago. As if my life could work out. My relationship too. But like a sudden squall, the news Dr. Patel delivered violently tore it from my grasp.

“The scar tissue has formed a stricture. Surgery is highly recommended, especially to prevent intestinal blockage.”

Every muscle in my body freezes except my heart, which is hammering so brutally against my chest it might crack a rib. My lungs refuse to expand, and my nails dig into my five-foot shortboard.

I figured surfing would clear my head, help me make sense of things, help me get out of my mind a bit. It’s also the reason I grabbed as much of my stuff as I could the other night and went to a hotel. Thought the time away, the solitude of my own room without Lucas, might bring my options into focus. But it didn’t, so here I am.

I close my eyes and listen to the waves crashing on the shore, beckoning me. I imagine them beneath me, lifting me, pushing me forward like wind behind a sail. Calm begins to wash over me.

When my muscles relax, I open my eyes and look out. The ocean ripples with shades of blue and fringes of white foam. A salty breeze brushes my cheeks and pushes my hair off my shoulders.

I dive in with my surfboard, paddling hard before pulling under the breaking waves. There’s a heaviness in my belly that has nothing to do with water pressure. Each time I resurface, I force this morning’s conversation deeper into the back part of my mind.

As another set of waves approach, I study them, looking for the peak. I lie on my board and paddle to position myself where the wave will be fullest.

The first one is weak, so I wait for the next. As the second wave approaches, it grows more powerful and I turn the tip of my board toward shore. When the water starts to swell, I paddle hard, then spring to my feet in one swift movement.

In that moment I am a bird, gliding over the sapphire sea, free from life’s problems. I feel alive. I reach out and drag my fingers through the water as if trying to touch heaven itself. I launch over the crest, then plunge into the water.

After resurfacing, I climb back on my board and straddle it, sitting up. I dip my hand into the ocean, letting the crisp water run through my fingers and secretly hoping it had the answers to all my problems. I feel the pulse of the sea beneath me, a repetitious and soothing rhythm.

Being out here always makes me feel strong. Powerful. I am fragile against the force the sea can dig up and hit me with. But every time I get knocked off my board, I climb back on and stand back up.

I breathe in deep and hold my breath before exhaling. My throat tightens. Lucas has no idea what I went through during the last surgery. The pain. The mess. The despair. While Dr. Patel said this one wouldn’t be so bad, there’s no guarantee. Hell. I went in for a simple appendectomy and it turned into a medical emergency that has upended my life for years.

None of this, however, is Lucas’s problem. He has plenty of his own already. The big one—Mason—should be where his focus is. I thought I could help him. I thought I could be there for Lucas and for Mason, yet all I’ve done is make it all worse. I could be the reason Lucas loses custody of his son. Me and my stupid Crohn’s disease.

Surfing, unfortunately, isn’t life. The surge and power I feel while I’m on my board are fleeting, ephemeral. The truth is that I’m not powerful and strong. I’m Riley the Sick Girl. I’m the girl with Crohn’s.

Which is why I know what I have to do, what the right thing is. I came into the program under false pretenses. I needed the medical insurance. Then life delivered Lucas back into my life and I fell in love with him all over again.

Actually, I don’t think I ever fell out of love with him. I’d just pushed those feelings down as far as I could and left them behind.

He should have stayed in the past. It was best for him then, and it’s best for him now. Especially with Mason. I won’t make him give up his job, not when it’s his calling. Nor will I add more stress to his life. Lucas and Mason need someone who can be there for them at full strength. Someone who can do after-school pickup and overnights and show up at soccer games. Someone who can be reliable and pull their own weight.

Someone who isn’t me.

I head back into shore. I sit down on my towel and grab my phone. Time to do the right thing. Once the screen is unlocked, I punch in the number to Lieutenant Graham, my point of contact for the Issued Partner Program.

The phone rings. And rings. I’m about to hang up when he finally answers.

“Lieutenant Graham speaking.”

“Um, hello, Lieutenant. This is Riley Thompson. I mean, Riley Craiger.” My voice is shaky, the pitch a little higher than normal. Not that I’m second-guessing my decision. Just nervous about the fallout.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Craiger?”

Mrs.The twist of the knife. “I want to drop out of the program, end the marriage.”

Nothing but silence.

After a few seconds, he responds. “Are you in danger? Were you harmed?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

---