7:00 a.m. It seemed like everyone should be just waking up, and yet the hospital had already been busy for an hour—techs checking blood pressures and pulses, nurses passing medications, shifts changing.
Jonas took a deep breath as he lay back on the transport bed that would take him to surgery. He blinked at the lights that suddenly seemed too bright. They put the rails up on the stretcher and placed a cap on his head to cover his hair. It reminded him of the caps Brennan would wear at the deli. Like medical dramas. Like shower caps.
He felt silly.
“We’re ready,” said the OR nurse who had come to take him. She came around by his head to push the bed. “You’ll be in and out in no time.”
“Yeah,” he said, his throat tight around the word. “Thanks.”
His mom appeared at the rail and smiled down at him, her wide eyes a little teary. Behind her, his dad placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Jonas gave his mom a small smile. “Come on now, Mom,” he said. “Don’t cry.”
She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m just worried. It’s a mother’s job to worry, you know,” she said.
“I’ll be all right,” he said. “You and Dad go get some breakfast while I’m gone and I’ll see you later, okay?”
She nodded. “Okay,” she whispered, before bending down and kissing him on the forehead.
“Mommmmm.”
She laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m going. Don’t give them any trouble in there,” she joked.
“Oh, you know me,” he quipped for her benefit. “I’m so much trouble that even the anesthesia can’t keep me down.” Joking with her felt good. His stomach unclenched a little.
She laughed and then stepped back, giving him a little wave. “Bye, honey,” she said.
“Bye, Jonas,” said his dad, stepping forward to squeeze his son’s shoulder. Jonas’s dad was awkward with emotion, but Jonas supposed the surgery of one of his children was an exception, because the older man’s voice was slightly choked up. “See you in a little while, okay? I’ll watch out for your mom.”
“See you, Dad.”
“I love you, you know? I’m proud of you.” His dad gave him a tight smile, and then stepped back, putting his arm around Jonas’s mom.
Jonas gave them a weak wave as they wheeled him off.
“Your family seems more worried than you,” chuckled the nurse from her spot by his head as they left the nursing unit and entered the hallway, heading to the elevator.
“Yeah,” said Jonas. “I guess they are.” Or maybe I’m just better at hiding it—burying it.
They were getting onto the elevator when he almost convinced himself he heard Brennan’s voice around the corner. But the doors closed, and he decided he’d just imagined it.
Brennan ran (she had fully committed, no halfway) onto the medical-surgical floor where she knew Jonas would be staying for the brief time before and the time after his surgery. She’d been running since the parking lot. Not wanting to wait for the elevator since it was so close to seven, she’d even taken the stairs. Ambreen, huffing and puffing behind her, almost ran into her when she stopped in front of the nursing unit desk.
“Hi,” she puffed, out of breath. She leaned on the desk. “I’m looking for Jonas Avery?”
“Are you related to him?” A nurse with curly red hair eyed Brennan.
“I—I mean, no. I’m not.”
“But she wants to be,” whispered Ambreen in Brennan’s ear, unhelpfully. Brennan turned beet red.
The nurse glanced back and forth between Ambreen and Brennan.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t give information on a patient to someone who isn’t—”
“Brennan?”
Brennan whipped around to see Mrs. Avery and someone who had to be Jonas’s dad (he looked like Jonas, but with lighter hair and glasses). “M-Mrs. Avery,” she stuttered slightly, her heart hammering against her chest. “Mr. Avery.”
You can do this, she told herself.
Mrs. Avery was frowning, but not unkindly. “I don’t understand, Brennan,” she said, giving the nurse a little gesture to show she had things from here. She led Brennan over to the visitors’ waiting room. “Why are you here? I thought—”
“That I broke up with Jonas.”
Mrs. Avery nodded.
“I did. I did, and I’ve regretted it every moment since. I shouldn’t have. Your son is amazing, Mrs. Avery.” She glanced awkwardly at Jonas’s father, whom she hadn’t met until now. “Mr. Avery.” She swallowed. “I have anxiety. I have an anxiety disorder.” She felt giddily free saying it out loud to people she hardly knew. Two words, right next to one another. Anxiety. Disorder. “Jonas has been so patient with me, and this is how I repaid him. I backed away when he needed me to commit.” The words were spilling out of her. Ambreen squeezed her arm, encouraging and supporting her. “I know there’s a chance he might not want me back. This is my fault; I realize that I messed up. But I also know I can’t be happy with myself if I don’t at least try to fix things. If I don’t at least apologize.”
Mrs. Avery was holding Mr. Avery’s hand, her eyes not leaving Brennan’s face.
“So I just—could I have your permission to see him?” Her heart was hammering so hard she was sure they could hear it beating against her rib cage.
“I’d let you,” began Mrs. Avery slowly. “But I think it should be his decision whether or not he wants to see you. He’s been—he really loved you, you know, and you hurt him.” Brennan’s own heart was hurting. “But I will ask him for you,” finished Jonas’s mom. Mr. Avery nodded his support of the decision.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll wait.” She waited for Mr. and Mrs. Avery to get up, but they didn’t move. She looked at Ambreen, and then back at them, a question in her eyes.
Mr. Avery cleared his throat. “He just went down to surgery before you got here,” he said. “It will be a few hours before he’s out and up to seeing anyone. If you would like to come back then, I’ll let you know if he’s willing to see you.”
Brennan wanted to shout inwardly in frustration. She was so close! Waiting would only give her time to feel anxious and run away.
NO, she ordered herself. You’ve come this far.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll come back.”
She hooked her arm into Ambreen’s as they walked out, mostly to support her shaking legs. They got on the elevator and headed down.
“What a roller coaster,” breathed Ambreen. “But you’re here! You did it. You’re halfway there. I’m proud of you, at least.”
Brennan let Ambreen hug her. “Thanks,” she said. “For everything, Ambreen. For getting me here in more ways than just driving.”
Ambreen gave her a comforting smile. “No problem. I’ve honestly been feeling kind of bad lately because I—”
Brennan’s eyes widened, and she frowned at Ambreen. “You what?”
“I’m the one who submitted your story to the allfixx moderators for them to consider for a feature. I feel—I thought it would be great, that you’d be so happy. But I feel like I’ve wrecked you, somehow. Like I broke Author Brennan.”
Brennan stared at her roommate blankly. “You—you liked my story that much?”
“I did. I did like it that much.” Ambreen smiled slightly. “You’re talented, Brennan. I’d buy your book in a heartbeat, if it was published. Even one of those expensive hardback editions they always come out with first, leaving us poor people to wait to borrow it from the library or until such time as a paperback finally comes out.” Ambreen winked. Then she grinned, “There’s a lot you’re going to have to get to know about me if we’re going to become best friends. And”—she grabbed Brennan’s arm—“you’re stuck with me now. I’m invested.”
Brennan laughed. “I’m actually okay with that,” she said. “I’m learning that ‘No man is an island’ became a saying for a reason.”
Somehow, she thought she could even write a new chapter for Superioris, if she had her computer there and a document open.
“Count backward from one hundred.”
Jonas stared at the ceiling. Bright OR lights. White. “One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six . . .”
He pictured Brennan and stopped counting.
Eyes closed, brain off.
This is a silly idea. This is a silly idea. This is a silly idea.
It was like the anxious part of her was trying to regain some control of her mind.
Maybe it was a silly idea. No.
Brennan got out of the car. Ambreen had stayed at a café in the hospital to charge her phone. This was something Brennan had to do herself.
She took the steps up to the porch all at once, knocking on the door before she could stop herself.
She’d never actually met Rhys Avery in person, but she knew it was him when he answered. “Hi,” she said. “I’m—”
“Brennan,” finished Rhys. He frowned down at her. Jonas’s older brother wasn’t as tall as Jonas was, but he was taller than Brennan. “What are you doing here?” Taller and annoyed.
“I don’t have a lot of time. I know you’re probably angry with me, if Jonas told you anything about what happened, but I’m trying to make things right. I just—I need something that Jonas has in his room.”
Rhys watched her warily for a few moments. In the background, Brennan heard Taylor yell, “Who is it?”
Rhys opened the door just enough for Brennan to get inside. “Go ahead, I guess,” he muttered.
“Thank you!” Brennan called over her shoulder as she hurried down the hallway to Jonas’s room.
She opened the door and stepped inside. It looked just like it had when she’d come over and watched the Star Wars movie.
Exactly like it looked that night. Which meant that, at least so far, her crazy half-formed plan was on track.
She looked at the skeleton poster on the closet door and thought of Jonas. She wondered, not for the first time, why she hadn’t just said no. No, this is not it. I’m going to try.
She closed her eyes and repeated to herself the few statements she’d been repeating to herself all the way to the hospital with Ambreen.
1. You are not your anxiety.
2. It is part of you, but not all of you.
3. You can still have the things you want, anxiety notwithstanding.
4. Guess what? Lots of people have anxiety, and they’re out having the life they want to have. They’re doctors, they’re writers, they’re living.
5. You have the choice to let it rule you or to force it to coexist with the rest of you in your head.
She got back in the car. Maybe now she’d finally be better. She felt sunny. Like Sol-ER. Like things might end up okay, even if not right away.
There was one more thing she had to do. She picked up the phone. Deep breath. The phone rang in her ear.
“Brennan?”
“Hi, Mom. There’s—there’s a lot I have to tell you.”