Page 4 of Nodus Tollens
“Fuck off. I can be soft when I want to be soft.” I grunt.
“Yeah, like when? And don’t say around my mom, you fucker.”
Soft? I couldn’t be soft, not when I was built like this and played hockey the way I played. Soft meant weak, and no way in hell would I ever change that.
“If by some one-in-a-million chance I ever find a woman and we have a kid, I can promise you, I won’t soften. Not even for a little girl.”
As his laughter filled the room, I was only filled with annoyance.
Why was this so funny?
“Alright, deal.” He announced. “God, I can’t wait till the day I prove you wrong.”
We didn’t talk any more that night as we both felt the unnatural effects from the intense conversation we shared. But, for once, I wasn’t nervous for the future. Whether it was hockey, or something else, I knew it had to be a hell of a lot better than the life I was currently living. In the months that passed, little was mentioned about college. For a moment there, I was left with little to no options other than searching areas that were as far from here as possible and the cheapest, too. Even Hayes went quiet until he blasted me with the news.
Sutton University wanted him, bad, but little to my knowledge, they wanted me too. With Hayes by my side, I knew anything was possible, because the bastard was right.
He wasn’t leaving without me.
1
WREN
I’d consider myself a person full of sentiments and feelings that were far too great to explain. To me, happiness wasn’t just a single emotion that was felt for every pleasurable event in life. There was that blissful feeling you get when you scrub the very last dirty dish in the sink. Or when you finally notice the leaves changing to those autumn amber hues that made everything more magical. I believed every moment in life had a special word that corresponded with it. Others thought I was annoyingly optimistic for someone who’s life was basically on an undetermined timer that would eventually run down to 0. And maybe I was too optimistic for someone in my shoes. Maybe, I was just one of those people who really wanted to find a meaning in life because nothing about my story made sense to me. Or perhaps, I was just avoiding the inevitable with words that I thought would distract me from the truth.
It was funny how life worked. How the happiest people in the world who had hearts of gold were the ones who suffered the most in the end. That’s why we had to make the most of the narrative we were given. Whether you were destined for something far greater than you imagined or something smaller, they were both significant in their own unique ways.
As long as I could remember, I’d known my life wasn’t meant for anything extraordinary. How could it be when the second I was born, fate had decided to intervene and deal me crappy cards that would ultimately affect every aspect of my life.
Tetralogy of Fallot.
A rare condition of the heart that would ultimately be my demise. No matter how many times Dr. Adams would reassure me that I was doing well or how optimistic my parents were that I would live a long, happy life, I couldn’t help but feel that small sliver of fear of what if I wasn’t okay? What if I was going to die young? For a long time, I struggled with the unknown. I was drowning in my own sorrow and dread. I let myself sink further and further into such a dark state that I hoped my heart would fail, just so I wouldn’t have to live like this any longer. I envied my classmates, who raced across the playground while I sat on the swings. I envisioned a me that was able to run with no limitations, no restrictions, just a freedom where I could experience a rush of adrenaline that would course through my veins. I wanted my calves to burn and my breath to come in short gasps without the fear of my heart failing me.
Then, I embarked into the unpleasant adventure of adolescence, where boys, peer pressure and all those wonderful things kickstarted and created a blossoming of new complications for me. Of course, as a young fifteen-year-old, I was curious. Especially about the opposite sex, something I knew absolutely nothing about. I noticed a few of them and how much their bodies had changed over the years. How their arms and chests had become more built and mature, and how I felt a tinge of contentment staring at them from afar.
Boys were now noticing girls and vice versa, and that’s when immature, meaningless sex was thrown into the equation. Inexperienced boys, who have no business fumbling around in girls’ pants, were eagerly waiting for their next victim to disappoint. It was a vicious cycle with rumors spreading, girls crying, and young hearts ending up broken. It was all beyond ridiculous, and I wanted no part of it.
Ever.
Seriously, though. Even now, at twenty-one, in college where most students are in and out of beds weekly, I’m determined to stay man free. In big, bold letters on my bulletin board, I have my number one rule written very clearly in bright blue.
No falling in love.
I couldn’t risk it, nor did I want to add my disease onto anyone else’s plate. Asking someone to devote a hundred percent of themselves to me would be incredibly selfish, especially when there were plenty of other fish in the sea who weren’t living with an incurable disease. Besides, time wasn’t on my side, and the idea of having to say goodbye to another person sounds pretty fucking awful.
More than awful, it sounds devastatingly heartbreaking.
And currently sitting in a crowded doctor’s office only solidifies my reasoning.
“Wrenley Baker?” The sound of my name being called echoed through the sizable waiting room, causing my spine to stiffen and my fingers to loosen on the magazine I’m holding. Though this was just another monthly routine check-up, my hammering heart was always on the cusp of giving out. Every appointment, I braced myself for the worst. Whether it be that my heart was completely failing or that I’d initiate a full-blown heart attack from all the nerves and anxiety. So far, nothing like that has happened, but I couldn’t help imagine the worst outcomes.
Setting the magazine down on the small coffee table in front of me, I slowly rose to my feet and met the eyes of a smiling nurse. I returned the smile, but on the inside, I was less than enthused to be there and slightly shaking in my shoes as I made my way towards the door.
“Hi.” The small brunette nurse grinned and peered down at her clip board before motioning me where to walk.
“Hi.” I squeaked and slow my steps until she’s leading the way.
“You’ll be in room 3.” She announced and glanced back for a moment before ushering me into the tiny room. An off-grey exam table greets me, and immediately my heart pulsates wildly. “Go ahead and sit down.” She pressed her palm lightly on my back, and a jolt hurtled through me. No matter how many times I’ve entered the same lifeless and dull room, I couldn’t control my nerves from heightening. Today, I was edgier than normal, but on a quiet exhale, I entered the room. Once I hoisted myself onto the table, I focused on the nurse, who began asking me routine questions. Are you taking any medications? Are you currently in pain? Any changes in your health? Basic questions that I always answered the same way. After finishing her questions, she started fumbling around the drawers of the desk to take a full set of my vital signs. Blood pressure, heart rate, respiratory rate, and temperature. As she’s leaned over me, watching the numbers rise, I silently cursed to myself.
