Carved in Her Bones

Tomas

Rhian has either been extremely busy, or she's actively avoiding me.

I fear it's the latter.

Health-wise, it feels like I'm on a rollercoaster that only goes up.

It's Thursday afternoon, and my dad just left. I walked him to the door. My parents have a carefully arranged visiting schedule that ensures their paths only cross when absolutely necessary—when I get results or on major surgery days.

Since I was sentenced to death, they've been in the same room five times. Each time, for less than half an hour. No eye contact. Rigidly cordial.

At least they weren't fighting.

I walk back to my room, and before I see her, I hear her.

Rhian.

Her laugh carries through the hallway, light and easy. I follow the sound and spot her in the YA cafeteria, sitting across from Blue—the new girl. Blue is animatedly telling a story, and Rhian is grinning, fully engaged.

I step closer.

She hears me before she sees me. Her spoon clatters against the table. She looks up.

She smiles.

Not the good kind. Not the ones I'm used to.

I was right. She's mad at me.

"Hi, Blue."

Blue nods at me, flicking her gaze between us, curious. I wonder what Rhian has told her.

"Rhian, can I grab you for a sec?"

She clears her throat. "Tomas, I'm kinda in the middle of something here. Can I come over to your room later?"

I nod.

That stung.

Back in my room, I grab my phone.

Seven unanswered texts confirm what I already know.

I type:
"You're mad at me. Will you tell me why so I can fix it?"

She reads it immediately.

Doesn't respond.

Mom is beside my bed, going on and on about how I absolutely must walk the stage at graduation.

"It would make me so proud," she says.

I was in my last year at Trinity when cancer hit. After what I assume was a very expensive negotiation on my father's part, the school agreed to let me finish remotely. I handed in my dissertation last Friday—right after I broke up with Pia.

Mom seems lighter now. More herself.

I drown her out and focus on something else.

On the 17-year-old girl ignoring me.

Our recently developed friendship means more to me than I might have let on.

"Do you plan on coming home or staying here after?"

It's the first time she's asked me a question with real hope about an after in the seven months I've been here.

"I was thinking London."

"I see."

That's all she says.

Rhian walks in like she belongs here.

Blue shorts. Oversized Metallica t-shirt.

"Hi," she says.

Mom immediately recognizes her. A bright smile spreads across her face as she reaches out a hand. Rhian shakes it, polite and confident, her grin unwavering as she thanks my mother for what must be twenty-five consecutive compliments.

Her talent. Her beauty.

Mom isn't shy about complimenting beautiful people. I guess beautiful people like to make sure other beautiful people know.

Rhian shifts her weight. "I was coming to talk to your son, but I can come back."

I jump in before she can change her mind.

"Mama, can you give us a minute?" I say in Spanish.

Mom hesitates for a second, then nods and leaves.

Rhian settles at the edge of my bed, as far away from me as possible.

"I'm not mad," she says in Spanish.

"You speak Spanish?"

"Yes." She shrugs. "My mom's dad is Spanish. He insisted we learn."

"That's cool." I pause. "So why have you been avoiding me?"

"It's not you, Tomas. It's really me. I was going through some stuff, and I needed to get over it."

"What stuff?"

"It's not important."

She looks down at her hand, tracing shapes into my comforter.

"Hey, look at me."

She does.

"It is important if it made you avoid me for six days. I missed you."

She exhales. "I missed you too."

A beat of silence.

"So, I have news."

"You're getting out."

"Yeah." I nod. "The trial worked. I'm in remission."

Her lips part.

"Can I hug you?"

"Sure."

I stand, and so does she.

It suddenly occurs to me that in the two months we've known each other, we've never even hugged.

I reach for her hand, and she walks into me.

Her hands land on my neck.

She smells good.

"You smell good." I murmur.

She pulls away, and I notice the tears in her eyes.

"What?" I panic. "Shit, Rhian, I'm sorry. That was insensitive—"

e of me given Joey's still sick

No she shakes her head. Im really happy for you im just going t miss you is all. When do you leave

I will miss you too. But ill be in London, you can come visit.

"When do you leave?" she asks.

"Tomorrow. Will you come say goodbye?"

Her eyes, still a little red from the tears, hold something fragile. "It's not goodbye... just see you soon, right?"

"Of course."

But the next day, Rhian doesn't show.

She just texts:
"Sorry I couldn't say goodbye :)"

I stare at the message for a long time.

I leave her gift with Joey, who looks rougher than usual. We've kind of become mates, ever since he promised to cut off my balls if I ever "defiled" his sister.