Page 83 of You're So Vine
It’s Shelby, calling at us from the house. She sounds anxious.
Nate and I exchange a quick look and start walking, fast.
Looks like the waiting might be at an end.
ChapterTwenty-Seven
AVA
I’ve never had to wait for big news like this before. When I applied for the exercise rider job at the big racing stable, I had no doubt I’d get it. You could call that arrogance, but I knew I was exactly what they wanted because I’d done my research. And I killed it in the interview. So, waiting for them to phone me and offer me the job wasn’t stressful. I wasn’t anxious one bit. Now, I wish I had been, so I’d be more prepared for this morning. To make the time pass faster, I throw myself into making corn dollies. Two down and now I’m on to number three. Okay, so the arms are crooked on that one and this one’s skirt is all ragged, but what’s important is that I am pumping them out. I am a corn-dolly-making machine.
I check the time again. Exactly three minutes and twenty-five seconds have gone by. It’s official. Waiting makes me insane. Even Shelby is giving me worried looks, and she’s the one who decided to decorate the vineyard with corn husks and gourds.
When my phone rings, I have a new appreciation for the cliché about your heart leaping into your mouth. My heart’s now firmly lodged in the back of my throat, which is probably why I want to throw up. I tell you, this better not be someone selling me cryptocurrency. My screech of rage will burst their eardrums.
Phone says “Doc”. Goddammit, I’ve waited so long and now I’m not ready. But Doc’s a busy man and if I don’t answer now, he might—
“Hi, Doc,” I say.
“How are you keeping, Ava?”
Doc sounds bright and cheerful. But that’s his default setting, so I won’t read anything into it.
“I’m … okay, I guess?”
Depends on what he says next, of course.
At that moment, Cam and Nate hustle into the room, followed by Shelby, who obviously went to fetch them. I’ve got three sets of worried eyes staring at me, and I imagine my worried eyes are staring right back at them.
“Well, looks like you are,” says Doc. “Okay, that is.”
“Okay…” I echo unconsciously. I’m not quite processing what he’s saying.
Fortunately, Doc’s not a time waster.
“The MRI showed nothing to be concerned about,” he tells me. “So, between that and the bloodwork, we can rule out any life-threatening conditions.”
Oh, thank God. I cup my face in my free hand. I’m too numb to even feel relieved.
“But—”
Oh, shit.
“The level of fatigue you’ve been experiencing is not normal,” Doc says. “The best-case scenario is that you’re burned out. The worst is that you have myalgic encephalomyelitis—”
My-what?
“—otherwise known as chronic fatigue syndrome. Now, you haven’t mentioned any body aches and pains, so I’m hopeful it’s not the latter because there’s no cure.”
“No cure?”
I shouldn’t have said that. In unison, Cam, Nate, and Shelby all gasp. But I don’t want to interrupt Doc, so I flap my hand at them to indicate that it’s nothing fatal.
“Currently no cure for chronic fatigue syndrome, no,” says Doc. “But if it is that, then we can put a plan in place to manage your symptoms.”
“Does this mean more tests?”
“Nope, it means doing what you Durants hate most—waiting and seeing.”
