Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
I whoosh out an exhale and stare down at my hands, giving myself a moment before I slip back into my mask and meet his eyes. “So what now? Is there anything we can do to fix this?”
He studies me, and there is something in his eyes I can’t read when I usually can see right through people. “How long has your mother been having difficulty?”
I snort. Difficulty. “She’s been in and out of the hospital since I was ten or eleven. For as long as I can remember, she’s been fighting one thing or another. It seems to have gotten worse since I went to college, but I try to be there for her as much as I can.”
The doctor grabs the stool on the other side of the room to sit on and slides toward me, stopping a couple of feet away. "Drew, can I ask you something more personal?"
"Like what? It depends on what you want to know." If it's for my mom, though, there isn't much I'd hold back.
He frowns, lines growing bolder around his mouth and on his forehead. Something is wrong, and he's not sure how to tell me. A weight sinks from my chest to my stomach and drifts down, down, down like a rock in a lake. Shit. He just said she wasn't dying, so...why the hesitation?
"Doctor, whatever the problem is, just spit it out. This dancing around is making it worse." It's making me want to punch something, namely him, but I keep that little bit to myself.
He sits back and squares his shoulders. "Has either of your parents ever discussed if you're adopted?"
I blink, my mouth popping open.
He rushes on. "It's not something I'd usually be at liberty to discuss, but it was your blood work, not your mother's, where we found the discrepancies. So, legally, you have the right to know."
I blink again, wheels grinding in my head like an overworked car. "What?" I sputter.
He swallows loudly enough I can hear it, even with the monitors. "Well, we ran your blood work with your mother’s, and your father's even, to look for compatibility. The transplant."
"And?" I say since I've been reduced to one-syllable words.
"You weren't a match to either of them. Neither of them is your biological parent."
The room seems to go silent around me as all the air is sucked out of the room. All the abuse, the verbal jabs, the indifference, all on my so-called father's part, was it because he knew all along?
If they aren't my parents, who the hell is?
I can't wrap my head around what he's told me. Everything seems to tilt sideways. Nothing is lining up. There's no axis on which to orient myself.
I stand, and the doctor stands too, keeping his eyes locked on me. He braces his body like he's ready to rush forward at any moment.
I lay a hand on the back of the chair and turn my back to the man. Shit. Get ahold of yourself. He doesn't need to see you break down. No one can see that. I have to keep it together no matter what.
Without turning around, I shuffle toward the doorway, needing distance from him. From the truth, too. "I'll come back, Doctor. I need some time to think about this."
He says something, but I don't catch it as I rush out the door and down the hall, racing to the exit before I say or do something to draw attention to myself.
Don't let them see. It's a lesson my father taught me under the weight of his fist, and I've never in my life been grateful for that particular lesson until this very second.
I step out of the hospital's sliding glass doors and take a deep breath of the cold midday air. Then another, using the chill in my lungs to clear my head. I have so many more questions than answers, but at least I can breathe again.
Until that old familiar feeling rises up to choke me once more. The feeling that I can't quite grasp anything, that nothing, nothing is in my control.
I hate this goddamn feeling.
I open my phone and pull up the ride app. Since I'm downtown, it only takes minutes for a car to pull up, and there's only one person I need to see right now. Only one person can make this feeling go away.
Bel. My little wallflower.
It hits me like another punch to the face when I’m already fucking down. We can’t be related. If he’s her father, but not mine...she’s not my sister.
It’s not like that knowledge would keep me away from her, but a wave of relief washes through me, and suddenly, the urge to see her is even stronger, a driving force pushing me to get to her.
It takes a little while to get to the Arturo estate, and I rush to the gate, punch the intercom, and wait.