“Okay. I need to call my dad as well.” I pause in my stride. Her dad always calls her; she doesn’t call him. I turn to her. “I promise to always let him know whenever I have a crisis,” she explains.
“Would you have told me, if I didn’t arrive when I did?” My question surprises her. She shrugs.
“My ex-boyfriend made it seem like it was a burden talking about my crisis; he couldn’t handle it and didn’t want to hear about it. I’ve learned not to share and keep it within the circle that understands my situation.”
“I’m not him, Anu. I want to know when you are having a crisis.” I’m a bit upset with her, but I can understand her not wanting any more disappointment.
“What happens when our agreement is over? Would you still want to know then?” she challenges.
“Yes, I’ll always want to know when you are hurting and need my help.”
“I’m sure your future wife would find that fun fact interesting,” she teases.
“Can we stay in the present and not worry about imaginary people?” My voice carries a subtle cajoling tone. I hold in the exasperation I’m feeling about this. I know she’s trying to deflect and right now it’s not working for me.
“Fine, I’ll add you to the app. Remember: you asked for it.”
I race to hug her again.
“Thank you,” I say, kissing her lips again. “Now you can call your dad, and I’ll call Zack.”
She nods.
I send a quick text to Zack to be here in forty minutes and he’s driving Anu today. A thumbs up appears on my text. I shower fast and return to the living room to see Anu. I need to check on her again to make sure she’s okay before she leaves for her lessons. She’s reading her notes at the small dining table. I notice she has changed clothes to a long summer dress and light make up. She does look better, but knowing how she tries to hide her disease and present a healthy look, I’m still worried. She smiles when she sees me.
“I need to leave soon. Is Zack here yet?”
I check my phone and see a text from him that he’s outside. I send him her number and ask him to save it, so he knows to alert her next time.
“He’s outside,” I say to her. She gets up and starts to pack up her folder and bag. I move closer to her and take over her mouth. She receives me with the same fervor. Our goodbye kiss feels like a long, breathtaking journey, filled with unspoken promises and a bittersweet ache. I never want it to end. She breaks away from the kiss, her lips slightly swollen and her cheeks flushed. Her eyes look like they are dancing in joy.
“You sir sure knows how to keep a girl wanting for more,” she jokingly says and I smile.
“That’s the plan.” She laughs. “If you’re not feeling well, promise me you’ll return home,” I whisper, my voice soft as I gently caress her cheek.
“I will return,” she confirms. “With a kiss like that, I’ll be the dumbest girl on earth not to return for more.”
I laugh. I know she’s trying to deflect but I’ll roll with it.
“Good, have a good day,” I say, watching her leave.
At the door she pauses.
“Thanks for sitting with me during my crisis.”
“Always, Princess. Go and have a good day.”
She nods and leaves. I call Zack, who answers right away.
“She’s on her way down. If she shows any signs of not feeling well, call me right away and make sure you are with her all day.”
“Yes, boss.”
I had planned to spend the day with her and not go to work today. Patrick is aware I won’t be coming in, but now that Anu is out, it’s best I head to the office to take my mind off Anu’s crisis. I send Patrick a text saying that I’ll be coming in and he should arrange a car for me. I return to my room to change clothes. When I’m ready to leave, I see a text from Anu with details on the crisis app and login information. My heart is joyous, knowing she agrees to include me in an important part of her life. I take my time to download the app and log in. She’s right; only ten people are on this app. Four patients and the others are their support. I only know three other people besides her: Jordan, Andrea and Kay, her cousin. The app details the crisis of each Sickle cell patient. Looking into hers, she has had one severe crisis in the last five months and two mild crisis, counting last night. I look through the app at the other patients and notice the frequency of crisis vary. They also detail the meds that each patient is taking. Anu is the only SC patient and the other three are all SS. Like she explained, SC carriers aren’t common. Her dad is AS, and her mom was AC. After they lost her brother who was AS, they knew it was a twenty percent chance of their next child being SC, but they were willing to take the chance. Sometimes I want to fault her parents but then, she wouldn’t exist if they hadn’t taken the chance, and the world would have missed a beautiful soul.
I close the app when I receive a text that my ride is outside.
I leave and head to the office.
