3 Simple Steps

EIGHTEEN: She was school-smart but not common-sense smart.

EIGHTEEN: She was school-smart but not common-sense smart.

I spotted the familiar slouching boy right away. He was sitting in a rust-colored chair in front of a room with a blue door. His cinnamon-dusted hair was disheveled and his face was in his hands. I thought I had been walking silently, but apparently he had heard me because his head perked up. Those gorgeous sea-green eyes were rimmed with red and tears were running down his cheeks.  Before I could even lift a finger, I was enfolded in an extremely wet hug. I felt tears soak my sweater and had to fight the urge to not push him away. I got that his mom was in critical condition but that didn't make me forget his confession.

"Alexis, thank God you came. I...I'm sorry. I'm sorry we fought. I'm sorry about everything. Just don't leave me right now. I need you so much, you have no idea."

I felt a shiver run down my spine despite being quite warm in my oversized sweater. It had felt as if an icy hand had ran a finger down my vertebrae.

"I...uh...yeah." I finally managed. 

Despite everything, I couldn't feel comfortable around Cas. Pushing that conviction away, I focused on being supportive. Despite Mrs. Simons not being Cas' actual mom, and her becoming such a neat freak with Cas, he was still very hurt by her accident; that was apparent. She was the only role-model Cas had had so far in his short existence. The room door creaked open and out stepped Mr. Simons. He cleared his throat and jutted out his chin. He was trying to hold his emotions in. I felt a bitter, melancholy twinge hit my chest and I suddenly felt like I couldn't breath. Cas hadn't known his mom for long, yet, if she were to die it would hurt him. How different was my experience with my dad from his experience right now? I had only gotten to enjoy my father in little snippets.

"Castel, men do not cry in times like these. Your mother wouldn't want to know you were giving in to grief so early, when all is not lost." With that, George Simons sniffed and turned a cold shoulder on his son, stalking down the hallway.

"Don't listen to him, Cas. You have every right to cry." I told him.

I wanted to add, "Don't be like me. The girl who had a stony mask on the day her father passed away." but I refrained from doing so.

With that, I pulled Cas in for a hug, but it came naturally this time. I patted his back awkwardly and his breath hitched. Once we tore away from each other, there was an incommodious silence. A nurse with a clipboard bounded past us then quickly stopped, retraced her steps, checked her clipboard doubtfully, and pursed her mouth.

"Is this Kelly Simons' room?"

Cas nodded mechanically. The nurse nodded, clicked her tongue, and checked her papers again.

"Uhm, so, your mom needs a blood transfer. Your father...he was tested and his blood type is not compatible..." She let the sentence hang in the air.

Cas nodded right away, as if he hadn't even needed to think it through.

"Of course! I'll do it. Let's do that stupid test."

I fiddled with my necklace and looked at the nurse's name tag: Lexie

"Excuse me, uh, Lexie? What type of blood is she?" I asked nervously.

The nurse--Lexie--looked at me as if for the first time. She checked the clipboard.

"AB-. Not very common. You can imagine how hard it would be do find a donor with that blood type if your boyfriend isn't a match."

Despite the situation, I felt color rise up to my face. Cas acted as if he hadn't heard. At that moment, I heard the pounding of shoes rush down the hallway. I whirled around and spotted a girl with long, luscious  blond hair tied in a ponytail coming towards us. She wore a green cardigan, faded jeans, and green sneakers. Despite the casual outfit, she looked gorgeous. That could only be Scarlett George. Behind her, Oliver George sulked a few feet behind.