One Day Soon (26 page)

I waved him away with my hand, making him laugh again.

Yoss seemed in good spirits. I noticed his color was better. He was still jaundiced, which was a result of the hep B, but his eyes were brighter. He had shaved. It was strange and nice to see his face underneath all that hair. The curve of his chin. The slope of his jaw. The determined set of his mouth.

And even though he was still grossly underweight, he was looking more like the Yoss I remembered. A little older. A little harder. But still Yoss.

“Where did you find that?” he asked, pointing to my desktop background.

“It’s amazing the things you find on the Internet when you should be doing actual work.” I grinned. His mood was infectious. It always had been.

I was more than a little surprised by his attitude. He had been seesawing between bitterness and depression with little room for any other emotion. It had been eight days since I had walked into this room and found him lying in the bed, badly beaten, barely hanging on.

Eight days since my past had crashed head first into my present.

Eight days since I had realized that second chances
did
happen.

I was still trying to decide what to do with this chance now that I had been given it.

I was walking on shaky ground, struggling to figure out how much of what Yoss and I used to be still existed.

I had to know if I was setting myself up for a whole new level of heartache.

Losing him once had almost destroyed me.

Losing him again would surely annihilate me.

“So you what kind of movie do you want to watch?” I asked, showing him the list of downloads on my laptop.

Yoss leaned forward, his arm brushing mine. Having him so close was a special kind of torture. It was a relief. It was agony.

Because the sixteen-year-old girl I used to be wanted to hold his hand in that intimate, innocent way that I had always done before.

The thirty-one-year-old woman I was now wanted to do so much more than hold his hand. Because my body remembered what it felt like to have his weight on top of me. Sometimes, in the darkest hours between night and day, I would close my eyes and I could almost feel him…
inside.

“Shit, you have
The Parent Trap
on here. Is it—?”

“The Hayley Mills version of course,” I interjected.

Yoss glanced at me with a smirk. “Of course.”

“I have
Freaky Friday
and
Chitty-Chitty Bang Bang
on there as well,” I told him, leaning over and pointing to the screen. I could smell the soap on his skin. The scent of the hospital shampoo. And the underlying thing that was all Yoss.

“And
Escape to Witch Mountain
. Damn, Imi, you’ve got a hell of a collection,” Yoss enthused.

“You know me and old movies. It’s sort of an obsession,” I said.

“Did the ex watch these movies with you?” Yoss asked suddenly and I looked at him in surprise.

Why was he asking about Chris?

It came out of nowhere and I couldn’t tell his intention by his tone.

Yoss was instantly contrite. “I shouldn’t have asked that. Sorry. That was a dumb thing to bring up.”

“Why did you?” I asked.

Yoss wouldn’t look at me. His jaw tightened as he stared hard at the computer screen. “How about
That Darn Cat
? I haven’t seen that one since I was five or something.”

Obviously he wasn’t going to answer me. Yoss had always been adept at evading my questions.

I clicked on the movie file for
That Darn Cat
as Yoss lay back onto his pillows.

The opening credits started and Yoss smiled. We watched the screen in silence.

“No, Chris didn’t share my love for old movies,” I said after a while.

Yoss continued to stare at the movie playing on my computer and made no comment.

“Chris and I had a shitty relationship. He never really got me. He never tried to. We were together because it was easier than being alone,” I admitted.

Yoss licked his lips, his fingers curling and uncurling on the blanket. “Why did you marry him then? Why did you go through with it if you didn’t love him?” he asked softly. No accusation for once. Just curiosity. And maybe a little bit of pain.

Should I tell him?

I had given him a lot of my truths in the past few days. Maybe it was all too much for him.

So I remained quiet. Yet slowly, so slowly, Yoss reached out and took my hand.

Simple. Intimate. Familiar.

Curling fingers through mine. Palm to palm.

“I wished we had had more time to watch movies together,” Yoss said, eyes still focused on the screen. But his hand was holding mine. I wished he would kiss me. Not like yesterday. That kiss, while wanted, felt angry and desperate.

I wanted a different kind of kiss.

But I liked holding his hand almost as much.

“Living in a warehouse doesn’t lend itself to a lot of movie watching,” I remarked.

“We can watch them together now though.” Yoss finally looked at me, his dark hair falling into his eyes, making him look so much younger than his thirty-three years.

“Yeah, we can.” I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

We watched the movie. We held hands. We enjoyed every single minute of this second chance moment we were given.

And the sun continued to set, reminding me of many other sunsets we had spent together.

“Hayley Mills was kind of hot,” Yoss mused, his eyebrows rising.

“Oh is that your type now?” I laughed.

Tightened fingers. Palm to palm.

“Nah. I’m partial to dark hair. And I’m definitely a sucker for black eyes and tiny freckles right here.” He brushed his fingers along the bridge of my nose where I had a smattering of freckles from too much time in the sun.

Yoss tucked my hair behind my ear, his thumb running the length of my cheek. My skin erupted into gooseflesh as he pressed the tip of his finger against a small birthmark on my collarbone. “Sometime, when I’m trying to go to sleep, I remember this mark. And how you would tremble when I kissed it.”

Something heated in his eyes. Molten. Hot.

I wasn’t quite sure what to make of this Yossarian. His moods shifted and twisted continuously. I held my breath waiting for the tide to turn.

So quiet. Not enough air.

He closed his eyes and moved away. When he opened them again, they were sad. But resolute. He shook his head and turned back to the movie.

“It’s getting to the good part,” he said, sounding slightly strangled.

I crossed my legs, feeling a throbbing there that I hadn’t experienced since I was seventeen years old.

Shit.

I heard the door open and I sat back in my chair, putting distance between us.

Dr. Howell pulled back the curtain and gave us a smile. “It looks like I’m interrupting movie time,” he said with a smile. I quickly reached over and turned off the computer, feeling strange that he walked in during such a tense moment.

I clicked the mouse and the screen went black. I pushed the table to the side and sat up a little straighter.

“Good evening, Yoss. Imogen, how are you?” Dr. Howell asked.

“I think Yoss may be going a little stir crazy, so we were just watching a movie.
That Darn Cat
. The one with Hayley Mills. Have you seen it?” I prattled on like an idiot. If I was trying to cover up the odd mood in the room, I was doing a really bad job.

“I can’t say that I have,” Dr. Howell remarked with a smile before turning his attention to Yoss who seemed overly amused by my nervous blathering.

“How are you feeling?” Dr. Howell asked him.

Yoss rubbed his hand over his nicely healing cuts and stitches. “I feel better actually. Not so tired. I didn’t throw up today, so that’s a bonus.”

Dr. Howell nodded and made some notes in Yoss’s chart. “I’m glad to hear that. The new medication is helping to decrease symptoms. Your color seems a bit better too, which is good.”

Dr. Howell turned to me. “Nurse Rogers told me that you took Yoss for a walk around the hospital yesterday.”

“Yes, I did. It wasn’t long. Just up to the roof and back.”

Crap. Was I going to get into trouble? Had I overstepped my boundaries?

Of course I had.

I was overstepping my boundaries all over the place.

“I hope that was all right. Yoss wanted to walk around for a bit. I thought it would be good for him.”

Dr. Howell waved a hand. “I think it’s a very good thing for Mr. Frazier to get up and about. Now that his internal injuries and the biopsy incision are healing it’s best for him to get some exercise. It’s just important that as he’s recovering he not over-exert himself.”

“Of course. That goes without saying.”

Dr. Howell looked at Yoss again. “It seems to have perked you up considerably, Yoss. So whatever Imogen is doing, she needs to keep doing it, I’d say.”

Yoss’s eyes flashed in my direction. “She’s helping a lot,” he said quietly.

“Good. Good. Everyone here at the hospital is committed to getting you healthy.” Dr. Howell opened the chart again and slid his glasses up over his nose. “I finally received the results from your biopsy and the other blood panels we ran. So let’s go over them and then we can talk about options.” Dr. Howell sat down in a chair opposite me.

“Options are good to have,” Yoss said lightly, glancing at me again, his lips turning up slightly at the private joke. I couldn’t smile back. I was focused on Dr. Howell as he flipped through the pages in Yoss’s chart.

“Nurse Rogers says you’ve healed nicely from the biopsy. Are you feeling any residual soreness?” he asked and Yoss shook his head.

“Not really. The first couple of days were a little rough. But it’s fine now,” Yoss answered.

“That’s excellent. Because as we’ve talked about before, with your condition, the risk of infection is high. You were given a heavy antibiotic after the surgery as a precaution.”

Flip, flip, flip through the chart. I was on edge. Yoss, who finally seemed to pick up on Dr. Howell’s placating vibe, folded his hands together in his lap and clenched them tightly.

“High risk for infection. Got it.” Yoss’s mouth pressed into a thin line.

“I want to have you moved out of the ICU tomorrow morning. There’s no need for you to stay in intensive care and a bed has opened up on the second floor.”

“Oh, that’s good,” I interjected.

“Yes, given everything, you’re doing very well, Yoss,” Dr. Howell went on.

“
Given everything?
That sounds pretty fucking ominous. Can we cut the crap and get to the main act here? What did the biopsy say?” he snapped impatiently.

Dr. Howell wasn’t fazed by Yoss’s attitude. The older doctor read over the results and then cleared his throat. When he looked at Yoss again, his eyes were kind and compassionate, his expression concerned and serious.

“Your biopsy confirmed that you have end stage liver disease. Your liver function is very low and you are at significant risk for acute liver failure,” Dr. Howell said succinctly. Carefully. Gently. His words falling between us like shrapnel.

This was my cue to say something supportive, just as I would have done for any of my other patients. But this was Yoss. And I felt the reality of his situation hit me square in the chest.

Yoss began to pick at his stitches. “Okay. You had mentioned liver failure before. I think I got that part.”

“I’m going to be frank with you, Yoss, your condition is very serious. Hepatitis B is a tricky disease because of how long it can take to show symptoms. The longer it goes untreated, the more likely you are to suffer from liver damage. That however, isn’t insurmountable. A strong course of antibiotics as well as treatment with medication and we can significantly slow down the progress of the disease and the impact on the liver. However—” Dr. Howell stopped for a moment and gave Yoss and long and penetrating look. “Your situation, Yoss is a bit more complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” he muttered. He was biting on his lower lip, his knuckles white as he clenched the sheet in his fist.

“To put it simply, your best chance is to have a liver transplant and the results from your biopsy show that you are a prime candidate. The good news, Yoss, is that there is no indication of vascular invasion. That means that the areas around the liver don’t appear to be affected. Yet. That increases the likelihood of a successful transplant, ” Dr. Howell concluded.

I finally found my voice. “That’s great.” I turned to Yoss and gave him a smile. “See, some good news.” He didn’t return my enthusiasm, so I spoke again to Dr. Howell. “Okay, well didn’t you say that he’d be high on the list? That he’d be given priority if the health impact was significant enough?”

“His MELD score
is
high, which means the wait time is significantly less. However, I want you to be aware, Yoss, that even with high priority, you could be waiting for several weeks, even months, before a transplant is made available.”