The Gypsy Curse

Chapter 1

The sun shines through the curtains warming my face. I snuggle deeper into my sheets not wanting to leave the comfort of my bed. After many moments, I stretch, letting out a screech and fling the covers off of my body. The breeze from the fan instantly hits my bare legs. I hurry to slide on sweats as I make my way out of my bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen. I am greeted by the smell of pancakes and a just as tired dad. 

We communicate our 'good mornings' with a grunt. I grab two pancakes from the pile and eat them plain. As I walk to sit in the living room to watch the morning news I hear my dad grab a plate from the cabinet. Soon after, he is joining me on the couch. This is how most mornings go. Silence and the news. We both love it this way since neither of us is a morning person. 

As I munch on my pancakes and stare at the TV the dreaded thought of going to the hospital to get a cardiac biopsy tomorrow entered my mind. I had been showing symptoms for the last couple of weeks, like my mother, and they found out she had vasculitis, a fancy name to describe the inflammation of blood vessels.  

A sign escaped me.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?" My dad asks taking a bite of his pancake and looking over at me.

My dad is all I have left and I am all he has left, so we've learned to be honest with each other. After my mother passed, we promised to share our thoughts when there was something weighing on our minds. 

"I'm scared for tomorrow," I answer setting my half-eaten pancake on my leg. "What if something goes wrong?"

My dad shifts his body to face me. "Vally,"  a nickname brought about by my middle name, "you have done so much research on heart biopsies, I'm pretty sure you could perform it on yourself." He lets out a chuckle and I side smile as a response. "Trust me, hun, you're in good hands."

"I know. I just know what they are going to say. They are going to diagnosis me with some autoimmune disorder and down the treatment path, I go. I've escaped anything severe for 19 years, and now we are going to be bombarded with the bad news. Couldn't I just continue to have asthma my whole life?"

"Well, let's hope it isn't anything too severe that a couple of treatments can't fix." He learns over kisses the side of my head. "Everything's going to be okay, Vally. We're in this together." I smile and thank him. He was correct, we were in this together. Regardless of the results tomorrow, we were in this together. "Now hurry up and finish your pancake before you are late for work." He pats me on the leg and returns his focus on the TV.

I shove the remaining pancake in my mouth as I hop up from the couch and head upstairs. I strip down to my undergarments, slide on some jeans, and throw on one of my few button-ups I have for work. I quickly toss my hair into a messy bun and brush my teeth. I put on my everyday rings and bracelets as I exit the bathroom.  I put my phone into my purse and head out of my room and down the stairs towards the front door.

"Bye, Dad. Love you!" I shout as I open the door and walk outside. I hear a 'love you' in return as the door shuts. The spring air hits my face and I take a deep breath in. This is my favorite time of year. The cold is departing and the heat hasn't taken over just yet. I hop into my car and drive to work: Pet Pals. I've been working at the same pet store since my sophomore year and I was promoted to assistant manager my second year there. 

It was a short 7-minute drive to the pet store. If I wasn't already running behind, I would have ridden my bike. I pull into my parking spot, grab my purse, and jog up to the door to unlock it. We open at 8 am -in 30 minutes-and I normally like to get here an hour before. Last night I was too stressed about tomorrow, once my head hit the pillow, I was out, forgetting to set my alarm. It is at times like this, I am thankful for my internal clock.