"I used to believe love is only worth it if it has no expiration date. But that's where I was wrong - once you fall in love, it lasts forever."
Meet Zoey Moore, a sixteen year old girl who's been living on borrowed time. She's never let herself get...
"How's Noah?" My dads knew the toll that Noah's accident was having on me, and they were worried. They were also worried about Noah himself, they liked him (who doesn't?), and they were rooting for him to get better soon.
I took a deep breath while closing my eyes, before opening them again and taking the glass of water that I held on my hand to my lips, and drinking it down.
"He's... okay, I guess." I shrugged and walked over to the table. "I don't know, honestly. He looks exactly the same since the day of the accident. No improvements but also no falling outs, which is good. I visit him every single day, and every single day the doctors have no news for me."
"You know what they say in these situations," My father said before pulling me into a hug. "No news is good news."
"Dad's right. That means he's stable, that's good. That's him allowing his body some time to heal before starting to get better."
I don't know if I just knew my dads all too well or if they really were that transparent, but I could tell from a mile away that this was the biggest load of crap they were making up, in order to make me feel better.
They meant well, so I didn't stop them. Instead, I showed them a tight smile.
"Do you want us to cook you your favorite meal?" My dad pulled me away from his embrace to give me a knowing look and smirk. "Maybe some pasta?"
"Uh, no... That's okay. Maybe we should just order food tonight."
My leg bounced and I tried to fight the nervous tic, while I waited for him to call the restaurant and place in the order, bracing myself for what I was about to do next.
"Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!" Dad put the phone on the counter before joining me and my other dad at the table.
"I need to talk to you about something."
I blurted it out, knowing that if I didn't, I would just keep stalling what shouldn't be delayed.
They looked intrigued, but not worried. "What is it?"
"There is this clinical trial that Dr. King told me about."
They looked surprised, and a bit disappointed that I hadn't told them sooner, but very much excited about the idea of a possible cure or something similar that would allow me to be healthier and carry on with a more carefree lifestyle.
I went all in with the specifics of the trial. They were my parents after all, and despite needing their signature authorizing my participation, what I was really looking for here was their approval of my decision, and everything else in between.
"Honey, that sounds like a fantastic plan. I-I," My dad stuttered, caught up in his own words. "I am so happy you're considering it!"
"Thanks." My lips curled upwards, for what felt like the first time in a very long time, but the smile quickly faded. "There's this thing... I would need confirmation that my biological parents were HIV positive."
"Um, sweetheart, we can't know that for sure. Your adoption was a closed adoption, we don't have your birth parents' contact information."
A closed adoption means that when my birth parents had me and put me up for adoption, they chose right then and there to not have any form of communication with me or my adoptive parents. Which meant that I couldn't ask for their phone number and call them up, asking for whatever information I needed and move on.
Which, in a nutshell, made my life a whole lot harder.
"But let's not give up just yet!" My dad held both of his hands up and showed me a smile. "We can still contact the adoption agency and explain the situation to them, see what they can do."
"I already did that." My statement threw them off guard. They expected anything but that.
"Oh, you have?"
"Yes." I whispered. "They told me they couldn't disclose any personal information about my biological parents."
"Honey, we are so sorry." I noticed my dad was still holding the takeout menu in his hand, and his fingers were fidgeting with the tips of the paper menu. "Trust me when I say, dad and I would do absolutely anything in the world to help you go through with this. We want you to be healthy."
"Me too." A beat. "But you didn't raise a quitter." Their eyes lit up when they looked in my direction, filled with invisible question marks that I knew were there.
The number I called was not a direct line to a social worker or an assistant, and much less a direct line to the case manager of my adoption. It was a recording that after I listened to it for three times led me to press three, which led me to an operator who knew absolutely nothing about my case but stuck to the rules when I asked him about my biological parents' contacts, and told me no.
"I need the adoption agency's address."
* * *
Summer music festivals. Long days out on the beach. Stealing kisses while diving in and out of the water. Noah surfing the waves, me copying his moves and pretending to surf as well. That was what the summer of our lives was going to be all about. And then fall would come, and I would be visiting him at college every chance that I had. That's all we had already planned.
When you get the rug pulled from beneath your feet like this, there's not much you can do but cling to what was once the plan of a happy ending.
At least that's what I did every day for the past few days, and that's what I was doing right now, while Ben was taking a phone call. He came with me to the adoption agency because one, there was no way I could extorq my birth parents' contact information without his help, and two, he and I have been spending a lot of time together in the waiting room, taking turns to see Noah, and I told him about how his best friend had wanted me to do this and Ben couldn't agree more.
From inside the car, I watched as Ben walked around in circles, with one hand holding the phone to his ear, and the other taking a cigarette to his lips. However, the walking didn't seem to soften the blow regarding whatever it was he was talking about, and neither did the drags he was taking, which were more and more frequent.
A short couple of minutes later, he made his way back to the car and tossed the cigarette tip onto the asphalt of the parking lot before getting inside.
"That was Noah's mom."
I wanted to ask him what it was about, but after spotting the look of concern on his face and remembering how he paced back and forth during the phone call, the words seemed to fail me, and a thick layer of silence fell between us.
"Noah went into cardiac arrest today. They managed to bring him back, he's okay now."
So much for no news, uh?
But happy endings aren't always granted in real life. I, out of all people, should know that.
* * *
author's note: where to start?! how is zoey going to get the info and what is happening to noah?
don't miss the final chapters of TBOTE!
don't forget to vote if you liked this chapter and add the story to your reading list so you won't miss out on any updates!
xoxo, mars
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
