Ro lay in her hospital bed on the last day of her treatments. She was waiting for the nurse to okay her release. She was physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted from the six treatments. Even though each seemed to make her feel slightly stronger after recovering from the initial effects, Ro was drained from the toll it had taken on her social life.
Mico only visited her those six times. He only stayed five minutes or so. Though Ro’s mom was there quite often, even she had to go to work and couldn’t stay always. Sometimes Ann or Mico brought her homework, but mostly Ro had to have her mother go pick it up from school.
She spent her time in that bed frustrated by her lack of understanding. She hadn’t been taught the information from her assignments, so how was she expected to complete them? Ro spent a lot of time staring at the wall, puking, or talking to the kid across the divider.
Jesse had stage IV leukemia. He’d been in the hospital for six months. Ro couldn’t imagine what that had done to him or his family. He told her stories of how he had used to be the captain of his baseball team. He had a scholarship to a Kansas college and lost it when he became sick. She liked him: he was funny and sarcastic. He saw things that Ro couldn’t.
When the two of them were alone, Ro sometimes managed to get out of bed and shuffle over to the curtain, opening it long enough to look at him while they talked. He was bald; it was a good look for him. His older brother, a barber, had shaved it for him when it began to fall out. He used to be blonde. He had big green eyes like hers that held secrets and pain. His eyes were interesting and honest. His nose was little and narrow. His lips were pink and full. He was adorable to her, and she developed a little crush on him.
When Gabe had come to visit, Jesse waited until Ro’s mom had gone back to work to tell her, “Your mom’s right. That kid is a player. I mean, you’re a little player yourself with that guy who gave you that bracelet and now this kid.” Ro had laughed. She explained the situation and Jesse listened without judgment.
“I lost my girlfriend when I told her I had cancer,” he told her. His girlfriend hadn’t known how to react, so she became a different person, and eventually she just stopped talking to him. “She didn’t even have the balls to break up with me. God forbid you hurt the cancer kid’s feelings.” Unlike Ro, everybody at his school had known about his illness. There was no way to hide it.
Sometimes his school fundraised for him, because he’d lost his mother and it was just his father, his brother, and him. Ro envied the support he got. Ro couldn’t even get Mico to stay longer than five minutes. Jesse smiled at her often when their curtains were open, but on her last day here, he was nowhere to be found.
Her mother walked into the room, kissed her on the forehead, and sat down in the chair. “The doctor will finish up her rounds with you in a few minutes. You’ll be her last patient, and hopefully you’ll be able to go home.”
Ro nodded slowly, silently panicking. Was Jesse getting treated right now? She hadn’t told anyone about him. She didn’t know why but he seemed too important to reveal to anyone. She’d confided in him about Ben, about the nightmares she had of losing him all over again. Jesse was there for her in a way no one else could be because he understood her and what she was going through.
Ro’s mother prattled on about her work day, but Ro wasn’t listening. At times that she thought were appropriate, Ro nodded and made noises of agreement. After a while, Ro’s mom understood what her daughter was doing. However, she let her continue because Ro would talk when she was ready.
The doctor came into the room twenty minutes later, carrying a clipboard she’d grabbed from the folder outside. She checked Rosalina’s vitals and noted them both on the whiteboard above her bed and on the clipboard. Ro’s anxiety mounted. She was going to be discharged. She would go home and spend the next week resting so that she could go to ball.
