Glide

Chapter twenty

My world has narrowed down to this plastic chair. To these white walls and the antiseptic smell in the air. All that matters is the beeping of machines and the constant bustle of medical professionals.

I sit across the hall from Sophie's room, trying to catch my breath. I'm seconds away from hyperventilating from dread every minute of the day.

It's almost a week since she was admitted. And it still doesn't feel real.

She's been fine for almost four years, and suddenly, the cancer came back.

I fight the urge to vomit.

She's resting before the surgery. I know I should be by her side, comforting her, promising her everything will be okay, but I can't. Jayden is supposed to be here. And for some reason, he's disappeared.

I look at my phone, the many unanswered texts staring back at me. Sophie is going through the worst pain imaginable, and Jayden can't bother to show up for her.

If anything happens to her, and he isn't here, I will never forgive him for that. I might not forgive him regardless.

I open another text chain, scrolling through the messages I haven't answered.

David started calling Sunday, and by Monday, he began sending texts. It's been more than a week since I saw him, but it all seems so dumb now. Juvenile and petty. What does it matter who my dad is when Sophie is suffering? When I could lose my best friend?

I want to talk to him. I want to cry on his shoulder but don't have it in me to address the mess between us. All my energy is focused here. There's nothing left for me to give him.

Still, I hover my finger over the call button, pulling in three quick breaths before I dial his number.

It rings twice before he picks up, voice breathy, "Jen? I'm so happy you called. I'm just on my way to practice, but I really want to-"

"David," I cut off his rambling, my voice dangerously close to breaking. I had forgotten the sound of his voice, how the words seems to bend for him, how it makes my body relax on instinct. There has been no place for memories like that in this sensory deprivation chamber. Here, there is only pain and fear.

"Darling, what's wrong?" He's instantly worried.

"It's Sophie," I whisper, pulling in a frantic breath. I've cried all my tears, and now I'm just a broken shell. "She's in the hospital."

"What happened?" His tone changes, and I know he's slipping into lawyer mode, committing everything to memory. It's like he senses that I need someone to take charge.

"She was admitted last Friday. She was in for a routine check-up, and the doctor found out it was back."

"What's back, Jen?"

"The cancer."

He curses under his breath.

When Sophie was nineteen, she was diagnosed with endometrial cancer. She ended up having a partial hysterectomy, effectively stopping her from ever having biological children. Even though the cancer was gone, Sophie never recovered. She came here instead, changing her entire life. And all in vain. Because now it's back, and I don't know how to persuade her to fight it.