One Day Soon (18 page)

Yoss looked out the window and I couldn’t be sure he was even listening to Dr. Howell anymore. He seemed to have locked inside himself. Somewhere no one could reach him.

“Yossarian, you’ve started to go into liver failure, which is why you’ve been feeling nauseous and rundown. I don’t know if you’ve realized that your skin has taken on a yellow hue—”

“And here I thought I was just rocking a cool new look,” Yoss muttered, still not looking at Dr. Howell.

Or me.

Dr. Howell glanced at me, concern obvious on his face. Yoss was shutting down. That was apparent.

“We will immediately put you on a round of anti-viral medications and we will have to do some more tests to determine whether you would be eligible for a liver transplant,” Dr. Howell explained.

“A liver transplant,” Yoss repeated.

“Yes. We’ll run some X-rays, more blood tests as well as some tests on your heart and lung functioning.”

“That’s a lot of tests, Doc. Is all that stuff necessary?” Yoss asked, finally looking at him again.

“Absolutely. You’re a young man, Yossarian, I’d like to explore every option to make sure you live a long life,” Dr. Howell answered emphatically.

I should have been making notes in Yoss’s file, but my hand was frozen, with my pencil poised over the paper.

Yoss was going into liver failure.

I felt like I was hearing everything through a very long tunnel.

“And what if I can’t have a liver transplant for whatever reason? Or I’m on the waiting list for a really long time? What happens then, Dr. Howell? Will I die?” Yoss demanded.

Dr. Howell’s kind eyes never changed, but I could tell by the tightening of his jaw that he was trying to find the best possible way to tell Yoss some very bad news.

“If your MELD score is high enough and barring there’s no vascular invasion, meaning the blood vessels around the liver haven’t been affected, then the likelihood of you getting a liver transplant quickly are very high,” Dr. Howell protested.

But he hadn’t really answered Yoss’s question.

I knew that.

Yoss knew that.

“Will I die? Just answer me. Please. I’m used to dealing with the shit life throws at me. I can handle it,” Yoss said angrily.

I can handle it.

Yoss may be able to handle it, but I wasn’t sure that
I
could.

Dr. Howell gave a curt nod. “Yes, Yossarian—”

“Don’t call me that. It’s Yoss,” Yoss cut in.

“I apologize. Yoss, it is.” Dr. Howell’s smile was strained as he continued, “Yes, there is a chance that your disease could be fatal. The liver is an amazing organ, but it is also a vital one. And if it fails, then the likelihood of survival without a transplant is low,” Dr. Howell told him bluntly. “But, we are going to do everything we can to make sure that doesn’t happen, young man. So I urge you not to focus on the negative. I know that may be easier said than done, but I encourage you talk to someone. Imogen can help set up counseling if you’re interested. I think that may be beneficial. And I promise, that this hospital and myself are committed to doing everything we can to help you.”

Fatal.

That one word rang in my ears and bounced around my head.

Yoss gave Dr. Howell a curt nod and went back to staring out the window.

“Okay, I’ll set up the tests. We should be able to do most of what needs to be done this afternoon. The sooner the better. I’m also scheduling a liver biopsy. It’s a routine procedure but will require additional recovery time. I’ll try to get it scheduled for the next few days. Do you have any questions?” Dr. Howell asked and Yoss shook his head.

“Okay then, I’ll leave you to finish up with Ms. Conner.” Dr. Howell looked my way again. “Imogen, can you spare a minute? I’d like to speak with you.”

“Of course, Dr. Howell.” I turned back to Yoss. “I’ll be right back,” I said quietly, but there was no response.

I got up and followed Dr. Howell out into the hallway. Dr. Howell closed the door behind us. He wrote a few things in Yoss’s chart before giving me his attention.

“I know I don’t have to tell you that Yoss’s position is very precarious. Not only his physical health, but his mental health as well. Given his current situation, depression is normal. I think it’s important that we be proactive and set him up with a counselor as soon as possible.” Dr. Howell paused, a line forming between his eyebrows. “I’ve seen patients like Yoss. The depression becomes overwhelming. What are the plans for once he’s released from the hospital? Will he have a place to go?”

“I’m working on that. He is very resistant about going to a shelter. He was living in a condemned house by the river before this.”

Dr. Howell sighed. “How do people get to this point? We live in a country where there are so many opportunities. What happened to Mr. Frazier that brought him here?” He seemed to be speaking more to himself than to me, but I answered him anyway.

“Life takes turns that we don’t expect and even the best of us can end up in a place we never expected.”

Dr. Howell leveled me with a shrewd look. “Yes, that’s very true.”

I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable. “I’ll speak to Yoss about the counseling. Though I’m prepared for him to not like the idea.”

“I think you might have your work cut out for you with this one.” Dr. Howell chuckled.

“I think you’re right,” I agreed, with a grim smile.

“The biopsy will show if he is viable for a transplant. Otherwise…”

Dr. Howell didn’t need to finish the sentence. We both knew what it would mean for Yoss if he were unable to have a transplant.

“Thanks, Dr. Howell. I’ll let you know what Yoss decides,” I said.

The doctor nodded and headed down the hallway. I walked back into Yoss’s room. It was quiet. Too quiet.

I pushed aside the curtain and found Yoss sitting up in bed, trying to pull the IV from his arm.

“What are you doing?” I gasped, hurrying to his side and swatting his hand away.

Yoss scowled at me. “I’m getting the fuck out of here. I’m not going to sit around waiting to be told I’m gonna die. This place is suffocating. I can’t stay here!” He sounded slightly panicked.

“Yoss, you’re not thinking clearly—”

“Don’t say that shit to me, Imi. Just don’t. You know I can’t die here. I just can’t.” His eyes were slightly wild. His breathing shallow and erratic.

“You don’t know that you’re going to die, Yoss. Did you hear anything Dr. Howell told you? There are a lot of options for you. Medication management. A liver transplant. Stop jumping to the worst case scenario,” I said harshly.

“My life is one never-ending worst case scenario, Imogen,” he seethed, clenching his fists. At least he wasn’t trying to rip the needle out of his arm anymore.

I put my hands on his shoulders, my fingers digging slightly into his skin. Yoss stiffened. Just like he always did when I touched him. “Lay down, Yoss. You need to rest. You leave now and you
will
die. Do you understand me?”

Yoss didn’t say anything, but he let me reposition him back on the bed. I fluffed his pillows and straightened the blanket over him.

I startled when he began to laugh. It was incongruous with the situation and I felt a shiver make its way down my spine. “How the fuck did I get here, Imi? God! This is not how things were supposed to end up.”

Defeated.

Lost.

Yoss was wrecked.

I tucked the blanket around him, my hand lingering on his arm. “I know, Yoss.”

I wanted to add,
it could have been different.

If you hadn’t left me alone in the rain.

If you had gone away with me as we had planned.

But I wouldn’t put that blame on him. It wasn’t fair.

I didn’t understand his reason for leaving me, but I knew, looking at him, that to him it had been important. And I’d find out the truth. Eventually.

“One day soon, we’ll dance on the sand,” he whispered, his eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears.

He wiped his nose and made a murmur of disgust. “I was such an idiot.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Yoss,” I snapped.

Yoss glanced at me in surprise. “Excuse me?”

I glared at him. “You were never the kind of person to wallow in self-pity, so don’t start now.”

Yoss’s eyes narrowed. “A lot has changed in fifteen years, Imogen. You don’t know what kind of person I am anymore.”

“I know who you are, deep down. That never changes. No matter how much you try to cover it up with resentful bullshit.”

Yoss chuckled again and I hated the sound of his insincere laughter. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I couldn’t take his self-condemnation anymore. He watched me as though he expected me to leave. Maybe he wanted me to. Perhaps it would have been easier on the both of us.

To leave whatever we used to be in the past.

But I wouldn’t.

I could never give up on Yoss as he so obviously had given up on himself.

I pulled out my laptop and set it down on the table, swinging it around so that it was in front of Yoss.

I found the file I was looking for and clicked. Familiar strains of music filled the room and Yoss glanced at me, his expression unreadable.

“What are you doing?” he asked roughly.

I sat back in my chair, getting comfortable. “You need to remember the guy that would never wallow. The guy who refused to let me wallow either. The one who snuck me into the old movie theater so we could watch this movie.”

The opening credits for
Fiddler on the Roof
came up on the screen.

“I’m not that guy anymore, Imi. You’re setting yourself up for disappointment,” he said quietly. So, so sadly.

“Do still know the lyrics to all the songs?” I asked, ignoring his statement.

Yoss shook his head, but finally he smiled.

“I’ll leave that up to you,” he answered

“Don’t you remember how bad my voice is? Are you sure you want to subject your eardrums to that?” I teased.

It felt good. To smile. To laugh.

Natural.

Like heartbeats and sunsets.

Happy endings and old movies.

This was what Yoss and I were made of.

It was more important than the darkness. Than the secrets.

Than the ugly reality.

“Yeah, maybe we should just watch the movie,” Yoss chuckled.

I liked that laugh so much better.

I dragged my chair closer and leaned in. Resting my head against the edge of his pillow, I could smell him. I could feel his heat. My fingers rested on his arm. Cold skin. His fever had broken, which was good.

Yoss started to hum under his breath along with the music. My eyes began to feel heavy.

He kept humming.

And for the first time in fifteen years I fell asleep to the sound of his song.

Fifteen Years Ago

“L
et’s go do something,” Yoss said, stretching his legs out in front of him.

We were down by the river at The Pavilion. Bug and Di were sprawled in the grass beside us. We hadn’t seen Karla or Shane all day. That wasn’t unusual. Everyone came and went.

It had been days since Yoss had gone off with Manny and he was in a particularly good mood.

The late days of August dripped in sun and heat. It had been two months since I had left home.

Two months since I had seen my mother. Since I had slept in a bed. Since I had a meal that wasn’t either taken from a garbage can, stolen from a shop, or purchased with money earned in ways I didn’t want to think about.

My hair had grown down my back and I had lost a lot of weight. I happened to catch sight of my reflection in a store window and was startled by the girl who looked back at me. I seemed older. But not necessarily wiser.

School would be starting soon. In a matter of weeks my old friends would be going to class and worrying about getting dates to Homecoming.