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“I am glad you’re feeling better. I can’t stand to see you in so much pain, Dorian.”
He smiles feebly, his pale face seeming even more fragile as his lips curve upward. “I’ll be fine. You know what the doctors all say. This will go away when I’m older.”
“I don’t want you spending the next half-decade of your life in misery.” I pull my eyes from him, letting them drift from the window. We’ve been at the hospital for three days. I’ve already missed multiple shifts at work.
And that’s not good.
I don’t have anyone else to come and sit with Dorian, and I’m sure as hell not leaving him alone.
“Can I go back to school tomorrow?” His voice breaks my thoughts. “I have a pizza party, and I don’t want to miss it.”
I purse my lips and hesitate. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. You really need to get as much rest as possible.”
“Then write a note for my gym class,” he jokes, though his laugh is empty.
He doesn’t participate in gym like all the other kids. He gets to walk along with the coach, and that’s it.
My heart sinks deep into my chest at my memories of him running faster than most people his age, and coaches thought he was going to go far in athletics.
The lump in my throat grows ten times larger, and I fight to hold back the tears. I never let Dorian see me cry, not even if it has nothing to do with him, butespeciallywhen it does.
He doesn’t want my sympathy any more than I want anyone else’s.
“I’m just going to check my school email real quick.” I reach for my bag for the distraction.
I glance over at him, but his eyes are already closed. He needs sleep, and I need a break to get my thoughts together.
I open my laptop, thinking back on what a whirlwind it’s been.
I didn’t even take the time to let Dr. Banks know that I would be absent. I barely managed to text my bosses about missing work. My finger brings up my email, and my heart jumps as I see an email from Dr. Banks.
Oh no.
In the subject line, it reads,Absent.
It’s not uncommon for him to send a reminder when a class is missed, but it’s typically an automated email. This isnotone of those.
I click it open, my stomach in knots as I read.
Ms. Everett,
I noticed that you were not present in class today, nor were you there for the agreed upon extra time for homework. It appears that this class is of little importance to you, as you did not even let me know that you would not be present. My charity ends here. I rescind my previous offer of letting you stay after class, though I do hope that everything is alright.
Dr. Banks
“No,” I groan, running my hands over my face.
Thiscannotbe happening. I need to pass his class.
My eyes flicker over to Dorian and then back to the screen.
Should I email him back? Or should I talk to him tomorrow after class?
Assuming I’ll be there.
Ugh.
My stomach feels nauseous at the thought of approaching him again. He can be so harsh in conversation, and I don’t expect him to care one iota about what’s going on in my life.
