“Yes. I’ve only had the occasional light spotting like before,” I answer quickly, tired and bored of the same old questions, although I know it’s necessary. I’d left that kind of epilepsy out of my speech to Levi. It’s well-controlled and has to do withhormones, periods, and birth control, which is honestly none of his business.
Dr. Garcia turns to me. “I know that you only began the shot last summer, and we don’t want to mess with the combination of medications that are currently working for you while you acclimate back to college life. However, my job is to remind you this shot isn’t a permanent solution. We will have to look at other options to help with your catamenial epilepsy before the two years are up.”
Ma decided to come with me today since she’s the one who always gets straight to the point with the doctor about things. But before she’s able to speak, I do. My doctor and I have discussed other options for months, but she doesn’t know that. I need to get this appointment over with so I can meet up with Brad later. I woke up at six in the morning and have to rest before singing and writing for hours.
“Yes, Doctor, I know. We can discuss alternative options this summer.” I try to keep my soft smile as sincere as possible, knowing it’s a complete lie. But I can’t bring myself to tell him the truth in front of Ma, let alone say it out loud for the first time.
He observes me, then glances at Ma, before nodding in understanding.
“Well, then, please call or message my assistant if you need anything. All of your prescriptions are refilled and should be ready at your local pharmacy upstate.” He shakes my hand, then Ma’s, and I smile, grateful that the hour-long appointment is over. “I’ll see you in a couple of months.”
We thank him, head to the exit, and five minutes later, we’re on the bustling streets in Midtown Manhattan, home to one of the best hospitals in New York State. Outside, I can feel the air begin to fill my lungs again. My anxiety over these appointments is no longer an issue, with months of them being quicker and better each time. Still, I can’t help but feel frustrated by beingreminded of the long journey that’s still ahead every time I step into that sterile room.
The daily pills aren’t even a reminder of that fact, it’s whenever my moms speak to me about it or when I’m unable to feel a certain amount of stress that any normal person feels without suffering certain consequences. Or the few times I haven’t been able to go out because of a headache, a slight tingling feeling in an arm, or the fatigue that hits afterward.
I might be ignoring what’s to come after college while I’m there, yet I can’t help but feel at peace at Driscoll. I also feel peace in my apartment. That soothing feeling of playing music, excitement over auditions coming up, and getting home to my kind roommate is something I’m not ready to leave yet. In fact, I’m desperate to get back to it, and Ma can sense it.
“It went well,” she says calmly as we reach the parking garage.
“It did.” I nod, hoping she won’t want to speak more about it during the hour-and-a-half drive back to Driscoll.
Ma lets out a sigh. “We need to start thinking about other options, Stevie. You heard the doctor, the shot is temporary.”
“Later, Ma, please.” She glances at me while we get comfortable in the car. “I really need to take a nap.” I can’t tell her what I want to do when the two years are up, I’m not ready yet.
Her green eyes, exactly like mine, look back at me. Understanding looms over her, and she accepts defeat, willing to wait a while longer, giving me a couple more months of peace.
Openingthe door to the music building, I look for room 204 and see Brad lying back in a chair, fiddling with his guitar. I knock on the door gently, letting him know I’ve arrived.
He smiles brightly, like the charming and cocky man he is.
“Hey, Stevie. How’ve you been?” He straightens and gives me a quick hug.
I sit beside him. “Ready to work.”
“Cool.” Brad takes the same notepad we were writing on before.
“So, I sang in front of a crowd on Valentine’s Day,” I tell him sheepishly. It feels nice telling someone who wasn’t there.
His brown eyes widen in delighted surprise before he lets go of his guitar and hugs me, lifting me off the ground. I squeal and keep my arms at my sides before he twirls me, causing me to laugh.
“Holy shit, Stevie.” He sets me down. “I’m so proud of you. I am a tad hurt that you didn’t sing with me first, but still proud.” We sit back down.
“My friends gave me a slight push, and by slight, I mean they forced me onto the stage at King’s Wolf.”My friends.It’s the first time I’ve called them that, and it felt natural.
“Fuck. I was supposed to go to that, but then…” He trails off while half his mouth quirks up, and I know he had a date, or something like a date, that night.
I give him a knowing look and then avoid all eye contact as he returns a slightly heated one. “Okay, back to work then.”
“Wait, wait.” He snatches the pencil from my hand. “Do you have a video?” I hesitate. “You do have one.” Brad motions to my phone. “Pull it up then.”
Contemplating whether to show him the performance because I don’t want him to see Levi and me together, I tell myself to stop being such a wimp and show him the video already.
Brad moves his seat close to mine and snatches my phone away excitedly. As the song plays, I look anywhere but at the screen.
“Stevie Winters, you’ve been holding out on me,” he says after the first couple of notes, oblivious to how Levi and I stare at each other.
I haven’t watched the video since it was sent to me, and I was way too embarrassed to show it to either of my moms. As far as they know, I sang alone, and the group forgot to take a video.
