Page 22 of Alex
Thesight of his tear glazed eyes raises a lump in my throat, and I squeeze hishand. “Listen to me.” My voice is soft. “You can do this. It’s fine to bescared and upset. I sure as hell would be, but you’ll get through this.”
“It’snot just this. Chemo, for who knows how fucking long and…” His voice breaks andhe shakes his head.
Icup the back of his head, grab a handful of ink black hair and force him tolook at me. “You can’t think about that right now. It’s all too overwhelming.One thing at a time. You have to do one thing at a time, and today that onething is to let them put you to sleep. That’s all. They’ll do the rest. I’llget you home and everything will be okay. You’ll be pigging out and playinggames by tonight.”
“Onething,” he murmurs, and lets me pull him into a hug.
Theanesthesiologist enters and after seeing his distress, adds a sedative to his IV.“That’ll help relax you until we get started,” she says kindly. The drugs mustmove with the speed of a fighter jet, because a slow smile spreads across hisface.
“Thankyou, you’re beautiful,” Ian says, and she smiles at him.
“Thankyou. We’ll be back for you in a few minutes.”
“Don’tleave. I like to have something pretty to look at.”
Shechuckles and pats his leg. “Sorry, but I have other patients to look after aswell.”
“Areyou married? I can’t do married, but if you’re single, I’ll…”
“Ian!”I exclaim. God knows what he was going to say, but I’m sure it was far frominnocent.
Theanesthesiologist waves a hand at my apology while she gathers her equipment.“People react differently to different drugs. They aren’t themselves.”
“No,that’s him,” I reply, and she laughs.
“Oh,”Ian exclaims as if he’s had an epiphany. His grin is wide when he tells her,“You’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart. He’s gay as the day is long. ButI can show you a good time.”
Ignoringhim, I shake the woman’s hand and she leaves the room with Ian still mumblingabout what he’d like to do to her. His eyelids droop as he turns his attentionto me. “You should be a woman.”
Swallowinga laugh, I ask, “Because I’m pretty?”
“No,because you’re fun and easy to love.” Whoa. My heart jumps in my chest. I knowit’s the drugs talking, but I think Ian just said he loves me. Sort of. Youknow, if I was a woman.
Idon’t know how to respond. Fortunately, whatever drug they gave him knocks himout. He isn’t even aware when they wheel him to the operating room. The surgeryis only scheduled to take an hour or so, but I can’t just sit here. I let thenurse know I’ll be close by and leave her my cell number in case something goeswrong, then head outside.
It’sfreezing, but the cold air refreshes me, makes me feel alive. Pacing thewalkway in front of the hospital, I’ve never wanted to call someone so bad inmy life. My brothers or Everly, anyone. Just to say he’s in surgery. To letsomeone tell me he’ll be okay. I won’t let Ian go through this alone, but itdidn’t occur to me until now that it’ll be hard to be alone with the knowledgeof what’s happening to my friend.
Onething at a time. Just get him through today.
Ian
Whatis that smell? It smells like plastic, and I swear I can taste it. My headseems to weigh a thousand pounds. What the hell did I drink last night? Lightassaults my eyes when I manage to drag them open, but I still can’t see much.The world is a smear.
Ablurry face appears and a kind voice says, “You’re in the recovery room, Mr.Turner. Your surgery went just fine.”
Surgery.Fuck. I have cancer. They just took my testicle off and I have cancer. Eventhrough the fog of anesthesia, I understand this realization is going to smackme in the face every morning. For a few seconds when I open my eyes, I won’tremember, them BAM, everything sucks.
“Areyou in any pain?” she asks.
AmI? “I can’t really feel anything.”
“Good,and are you having any nausea?”
“No,but I can’t see much. Everything is blurry.”
“Thatwill get better as the anesthetic wears off. The best thing you can do is closeyour eyes and doze for a while. You’ll feel better.”
Assoon as my eyes shut, I start to slip away again. I’ve never felt so tired inmy life. “Let me know when he wakes again,” I hear the nurse say.
