Never Say Goodbye

Chapter 9

In about twenty four hours or so, my skin tingles with anticipation. I can finally move. I smile.

Then I remember where I am and the question that lurks within my mind. The smile dies. "Caleb," I say to get his attention.

"Yes?" he answers.

"Why was Dr. McFaulin so mad at you?" I wonder.

Caleb answers reluctantly, "Oh. Yeah, that. Well, when I was six, I was going for a field trip to the hospital. I don't know why my class chose the hospital as a place for first graders to go, but whatever. Anyway, we watched this doctor, Dr. McFaulin, perform a surgery. When I was five, my passion was surgery. I read all the medical journals I could get my little hands on. I knew literally all about surgeries . . . or thought I did. During the surgery, all the other children were turned away in disgust as blood splattered everywhere. But I was watching with fascination. I saw that Dr. McFaulin was going to pull out something, which could kill the man. I screamed out, 'No! You're going to kill that man!' All eyes turned on me. 'Well it's true!' I continued. 'You are going to slice through the hepatic artery!' Dr. McFaulin insisted that he wouldn't, but I knew that he was. He continued working while I screamed out that he was doing it all wrong! It was true! He killed the man. I knew he was going to. He had very little experience and was pretty much incompetent."

"You contradicted him?"

"I tried to stop him from killing that man! And he did anyway!" he says, anger flickering in his eyes.

"That's all?"

"Well, yes. He is just like his father. Blames people for things he did! And then takes it out on a girl who didn't even know what was going on until her boyfriend told her. If he didn't help you-" He clenches his fists.

"Caleb! I got over it! I'm okay!"

"We got over it," he answers.

"No. I got over it. I can't have you fighting my battles. I won't have you fighting my battles. You mean too much. I can't let you get hurt by my grenade." I start to cry. I know that I probably won't be able to deter him; he knows that, but I need to try. I need to try!

"I told you before! You are NOT A GRENADE!" I cry even harder. I really don't want to be yelled at. "Look, I'm sorry, but you aren't a grenade. Not to me. You are more. You are amazing." I cry even harder because this just makes it harder not to want him. But I do want him. I need him. I have never felt happier except with my parents, and both my parents are dead. He is my only light, my only sunshine, my only happiness in life. I can't lose him because of my selfishness. I can't. This is his choice, too.

"I don't understand why you put up with me!" I yell.

"What?" Caleb says. He looks hurt.

"I don't understand why you put up with me! I am not beautiful! I have a disease and a broken leg! You know you can break up with me. You can break up with me if you want to, if this is too much for you."

"You know it isn't too much for me. I don't want to break up with you. You know I won't. I will stick by your side no matter what."

"You don't have to! I don't want you-" I stop mid-sentence as I realize what I was going to say. "I mean-"

"You don't want me?" he asks. Tears trickle down his cheek. "You. Don't. Want me?" He makes no other sound, but I can tell he is really upset.

"I didn't mean that." Caleb is still quietly crying. "I meant that I don't want to hurt you, and inevitably I will hurt you if we are together," I say.