Let Me List the Ways Page 11

  We hadn’t even been seated for a minute when the office assistant passed a clipboard full of papers over the counter for him to fill out. He jumped up and grabbed it, but handed it to me. I filled out everything I knew about him as he watched. He struggled to sign the forms and we both held in our laughter when his signature looked like a kindergartner had written it. Then I brought the clipboard back up with his insurance card. When the assistant had finished making a copy, she gave it all back to me and told us someone would be out to get us soon.

  Nolan slipped his hand back in mine as we waited. It didn’t take long for a woman in scrubs to come out and call him back. I assumed I’d be staying in the waiting room, but he tugged me up from the seat and pulled me along behind him as we were given a room. The woman read through the paperwork.

  “So it’s your right shoulder?” she asked.

  “Yes. It happened yesterday, but the doctor just did surgery last year,” he answered.

  “Just take off your shirt, then.” She marked a few more things down in the chart. “He’ll be with you in a few minutes.” She left the room and shut the door behind herself.

  Nolan exhaled a large breath. His left hand tangled up in the hem of his shirt, but I knew he’d need my help. I helped guide his good arm from the shirt and then slowly pulled the shirt over his head and down the hurt side. Then, as if I was channeling my mother, I folded his shirt and sat down in the chair next to the exam table.

  “You do realize I’m just going to have to put that back on?” he teased.

  “Zip it,” I scolded him as we heard a knock on the door. The doctor entered and gave Nolan a sad look.

  “What happened, Mr. Walker?” He stepped over to the sink and washed his hands as Nolan recounted the pitch that seemed to reinjure his shoulder. The doctor moved around him, twisting and rotating Nolan’s bad shoulder in a way that, judging from the expression on Nolan’s face, hurt like hell. By the time the doctor was finished, Nolan’s brow was shiny with sweat and his face looked a tad bit green.

  “What do you think?” Nolan asked almost impatiently.

  “I don’t think it’s a full tear. You still have pretty good range of motion. Can you move it at all without help?” Nolan made a full circle with his arm, but his face pinched in agony. “I think you’re just going to need to head back to physical therapy and maybe get some cortisone to help speed along the healing, but I want an MRI to be certain you didn’t tear through what we fixed last year.”

  “How long will I be out?”

  The doctor let out a slow whistle. “It’s your season, isn’t it?” he asked, but then continued talking without waiting for his answer. “I want you out for two weeks, and then you can go back in, but no pitching until we make sure it’s healing okay on its own. What’s your backup position?”

  “First base,” Nolan answered, but the doctor was already shaking his head.

  “I think that’s a bit risky, son. I’d rather see you somewhere where you got a little less action. I know baseball is your bread and butter, but if you reinjure your shoulder, it’s going to be hard to convince USC to play you.” He pulled out a prescription tablet and wrote down a few medications. From the drawer beneath where he was standing, he pulled out a separate pad and wrote the prescription for the MRI. He patted Nolan on the good shoulder and wished him luck. He also told him to come back in a week after the MRI and they’d start therapy and treatment then. “Take it easy until I see you next time.”

  With that, the doctor exited the room and left us to sit there absorbing what it all meant. Nolan looked dazed, still recovering from the exam. I reached up and took the two papers off the counter. After a few more seconds, he stood up from the table and pointed to his shirt in my lap. I tucked the papers into my purse and moved toward him. We didn’t say anything as I pulled his shirt over his head and helped him guide his arms through.

  We scheduled a follow-up appointment with the assistant and then headed back out to his truck. “So that wasn’t so bad,” I said as we sat at a red light on our way home.

  “It could have been worse, I guess.” He glanced at me for a minute before returning his attention to looking out the passenger window. “I won’t be able to feel any relief until we get the results of the MRI. If I have to go through another surgery, it’s really going to throw a wrench into my plans.”

  “He said he didn’t think it was torn too badly. Maybe this will just be a little setback in your perfect future.” I tried to be optimistic, but we both knew it wasn’t my strong point. He smiled anyway, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was so worried I could feel it across the cab of the truck. A few minutes later we pulled into his driveway.

  “I’m going to go in and catch up on some TV. Feel like binge-watching some reality shows with me?” Nolan slid out of his truck and I followed him. Once inside, he filled his mom in on what the doctor had said and she told him she’d get him the appointment for the MRI. I handed her the two papers from the doctor and we both made our way up to his room. He kicked off his shoes and sat down on the side of the bed, turning a little and then lying back so that he didn’t have to support himself with his bad arm.

  I waited until he was all settled and then positioned myself beside him. Over the years we’d had our shares of medical setbacks, usually me more than him. I guess sometimes it was easier to live with those moments when we could help each other forget them. I knew his shoulder was hurting, but I let him get distracted in the obnoxious cast and their stupid actions instead of insisting we discuss what neither of us had any control of. It was like all the times he had stayed with me when my blood sugar was rising and falling unpredictably while I fought off a cold or infection.

  Sometimes I wondered what it would have been like if I’d had to do all of it alone. It would not have been the same to watch movies by myself, or even just spend the day out of school without any company. It’s hard to be depressed in the company of your best friend. And even if we were back in that scary place where we had no control over how quickly he healed, together we were stronger than we ever were apart.

  Eighteen

  NOLAN WAS A big guy. He was tall, maybe six foot two, and was built of solid muscle. He took very good care of his body and enjoyed working out to improve in his sport. So why pain medicine had such a noticeable effect on him was always a wonder. When I made it over to his house that Friday morning, his mother said, “He overslept since the prescription medication made him very sleepy. I brought him some toast with another dose about thirty minutes ago and now he’s up there thudding around. He’s too out of it to go to class, but he keeps insisting he has a math test his teacher said he can’t make up.” As if to support her story, a loud thud echoed above us.

  I opened his bedroom door and found him lying on the floor next to his bed, laughing. “What the heck, Nolan? Are you okay?” I moved to sit next to him and reached to touch the back of his head to make sure he was okay. He playfully swatted my hands away.

  Laughing, he sat up and rubbed at his big head. “I’m fine. I just fell back to sleep and rolled right off the edge.”

  “Get up. I don’t think you should go to school like this, but if you are, we’re going to be late and we have to get our readmits.” I stood and offered him my hand to help pull him up. His pupils were constricted and his lids looked so heavy as they barely made it halfway open. At least he was awake. Last year after his surgery he couldn’t even manage to keep his eyes open.

  “I don’t think I want to get up,” he said like a mischievous toddler, but he put his hand in mine with a huge dopey smile. It was adorable.

  “You’re a mess, lightweight. How many pills did you take?”

  He shrugged a small shrug and giggled. “My mom gave me them. Do you think she gave me too much?” His eyes narrowed slightly.

  “No. Not your mother. You just never take anything. Not even an aspirin. You know you don’t handle opiates too well.” I tugged a little on his hand but he wasn’t budging. I huff
ed out a big breath, unsure how I was going to get him up off the floor.

  “Did you just get huffy with me, Sugar?” he asked, tugging back so that I nearly lost my balance. I laughed, reaching for his bed to steady myself.

  “You deserved it. I need to get you up off the floor so we can go to school. Stop playing around.” I tried to sound stern, but in reality I loved this silly Nolan.

  “Quit being so serious.” He smiled bigger, his eyes practically slivers. “Your cheeks are turning red.” He reached up and tapped my nose with his finger, and I was a bit surprised he was able to touch it accurately and not poke me in the eye. I knew from last time that he only was sloppy for the first hour after taking the medication. “Do you know your brows get closer together with these cute little wrinkles when you’re thinking about something?”

  I immediately relaxed my face. It didn’t fly past me, the fact that he had mentioned cute in a sentence about me. I would probably remember that uninhibited connection of words forever. “Knock it off. We have to get to school. Come on.” I pulled his hand but he just laughed. I didn’t give up.

  “No. You come on,” he countered, tugging me instead. I tumbled down and managed to catch myself before our faces smashed together, something that Nolan clearly hadn’t thought about. He was flat on his back and I was still on my knees, but my body was braced over his as he bounced with laughter. I had one hand on each side of his head and one leg between his.

  “Nolan!” I scolded for real that time. He bit his lip to try and hide his smile. “I could have hurt you! What if I fell on your shoulder?” I shifted slightly so that I could try to stand up.

  “A, you could not hurt me. B, my shoulder is feeling a lot better.” He moved it around to show me.

  “It’s not better, Nolan; you just can’t feel it as much because of the meds. Now get up so you can eat something and drink some water. Maybe that will help.” I looked down into his eyes.

  “Why aren’t you smiling? Come on. Lighten up. Are you really in that big of a hurry to get to school? Bor-ing!” He dragged out the last two syllables like a taunting fourth grader. It made me laugh. “That’s better,” he announced proudly. I tried to get up again, but he was so quick I never saw his next move coming.

  I let out a small yelp as he collapsed my elbow with his hand and rolled me over so that he was on top of me. I stared up into his victorious expression. “I like it when you smile,” he said as he sat up and shifted the leg that was between my own to the outside, thus effectively straddling my legs. I tried to wiggle them but he just shook his head at me.

  “Nolan.” I said his name warningly.

  “Mackenzie,” he parroted back mockingly. We both laughed. “I like it when you laugh too,” he added, trapping one of my wrists in his hand and raising it above my head. “I like it when you giggle. I like it when you look all serious,” he said, doing his best impression of my serious face.

  “Nolan,” I said again, a little more stern than the last time.

  He tapped my nose with his finger and then captured my other wrist, bringing it up to join the already trapped arm. He leaned forward, and in a very low whisper he said, “I like it when you’re mad too.” I froze, my heart swelling in my chest. “But I like it best when those little things are all tangled up together.”

  I must have had a curious expression on my face, because he continued, “Do you know how I get you to do all of those things together?” He held my wrists under his hand and slowly slid his free hand down the side of my body. “I tickle you.” Just like that, his hand was tickling my side. He had a look of pure joy on his face as I wiggled and giggled beneath him.

  Finally I was rescued when his mom came to his room to see what all the laughing was about. “Nolan! Let her go,” she laughed. “You are going to be late.” Within seconds he was on his feet and using my wrists to pull me to mine.

  He grabbed his bag and then mine from where I had left it near his door. “All right, all right, ladies,” he chided, “I’ll go. I’ll go.” He tossed me his keys as his mom left the room. “But you better drive.”

  We sat in his truck and ate bagels instead of going inside, so we were forty minutes late by the time we got our readmits from the office. I worried he might fall asleep in class, but I knew his teachers would understand if he explained his reason for being a little out of it. He was still slightly altered, but he was ten times better than he had been at his house. The day was off to an unusual start and I hoped things would get back on track before my date with Jude that evening.

  I found myself daydreaming in class. I thought about what I’d wear later and how much I was looking forward to seeing Jude again. Nisha and Regan had started texting me already, asking me a million questions about how I was going to wear my hair and whether or not I’d kiss him if he made a move. My excitement was piqued and I was full of the best sort of anticipation.

  By the end of second period, however, I was feeling sluggish and sleepy. My thoughts were drifting off much further, and while I was trying to pull them back so I could take notes, I found it nearly impossible. I would have to borrow Regan’s lecture notes for the period because it was almost as if I wasn’t even in class. I pulled my kit out of my bag and tested myself. My blood sugar was low, so I decided I’d head over to the lunch area and grab a snack from the vending machines. Regan offered to walk me, but I knew she had a question about our section test and needed to ask the teacher while she had the chance, so I waved her off.

  Nolan met me after class and I motioned toward the old dark corridor that led to the antiquated machines. I felt my legs wobble a little like they were quickly turning to Jell-O. He moved his backpack to his chest and stepped in front of me, bending down so that I could climb onto his back. We weren’t allowed to ride piggyback at school, but it was a rule that was sometimes overlooked for me when I was too low to walk myself.

  It was rare that my blood sugar would drop low enough to make it difficult for me to walk, but on occasion it would happen. I had glucose tablets and a glucagon pen in my kit for times when my blood sugar dropped very low, but I was close enough to the vending machines that I felt safe waiting for something that wouldn’t make me as nauseous. I’m not sure what had happened that caused the drop in blood sugar, but I suspected it might have been because I’d just changed my pump site earlier that morning before I went to Nolan’s and maybe gave myself too much insulin for the bagel I’d eaten.

  Nolan held me up the best he could with his good arm under my butt as he leaned forward so that I could enter my change into the vending machine and pick a soda. The loud bell rang above us, but we ignored it; we were going to be late no matter what we did now. Nolan reached into the slot and pulled the cold drink from the machine with his bad arm. I worried for a moment about his shoulder, but it didn’t seem to be bothering him.

  With drink in hand, he carried me over to the wooden bench that wrapped around an old tree in the middle of the quad. I opened the can with shaky hands and quickly took a sip, swallowing it as fast as I could. I felt dizzy and disconnected. It started to feel like I was watching a movie instead of experiencing the situation firsthand.

  Nolan took the can from my hand when he saw that I was struggling with finding my mouth again. He put it to my lips slowly, making sure not to choke me when my drinking mimicked a toddler learning to drink from a cup. I could see that he was worried about me but I didn’t want to assure him I was okay until I felt like I really was. The final bell rang again, letting us know we were late. The last few students from the hallways cleared out and Nolan and I were left sitting in an empty quad.

  “You doing better?” he asked.

  “Yes. I don’t know why that happened.” My words slurred together slightly, as if my tongue was too heavy to lift.

  Nolan set down the soda and used his bad arm to unzip his backpack and pull out a bottle of water. I saw that he was being more careful with his shoulder now and I worried maybe his pain meds had worn off. “Is it bug
ging you again?”

  “A little. Not anything like yesterday. I think icing it last night helped. It still hurts, but I can move my arm without wanting to die.” He took a drink from the water bottle.

  We didn’t move to get up yet. I needed a little longer to feel like my legs were strong enough to carry me. My eyes were still struggling to stay open. I reached for the soda can with my shaky hand and nearly missed it. It wobbled when my hand didn’t capture it securely, but I managed to save it before it tipped over.

  “You look drunk,” Nolan said. “Aren’t we a pair?” he teased.

  When I finally felt like I could think straight and move without growing weak, I stood up and grabbed my bag. Nolan stood too, being a little more careful when he slipped his backpack over his hurt shoulder. “I’m glad it’s feeling better,” I said as I tossed the soda can into the trash and we moved together toward my third-period class.

  “I have the MRI on Monday morning. I think maybe I escaped a repeat surgery.”

  “That would be awesome.” We stopped when we were outside the classroom and I swung the door open and stepped inside. All eyes in the room seemed to snap over to us, and I gave Nolan a small wave good-bye, which he returned. The teacher looked up too, giving Nolan a small nod and a little wave as the door shut and closed him out. I took my seat next to Nisha.

  “Everything okay?” she whispered as soon as everyone had turned their attention back to the teacher and her lecture.

  “I was low.”

  Nisha nodded. “Test next week.” She pointed to the far right corner of the board where the announcement was printed.

  “Thanks,” I told her as I unzipped my bag and retrieved my notebook.

  Her eyes watched as I flipped through the pages to find a blank sheet to write notes on. When Nolan’s handwriting caught her eye, she reached across the aisle and stopped me by placing her hand on our list titled TOP TEN MOVIES WE’LL NEVER ADMIT TO WATCHING. I tried to flip the page, but Nisha held her hand on it tightly. This list was ongoing and definitely a joke I don’t think was really meant to be a secret, so I didn’t fight that hard to keep the notebook in my possession. She slid it from my desk and set it on hers.