I was pacing the carpeted hospital waiting room when my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I whipped it out and instantly relaxed when I saw Jack’s name. He’d become a source of comfort or belly laughs, either of which I would take right now. Our conversations never went too deep, and he didn’t live in town, so neither of us were trying to date each other. We had a solid friendship brewing that I saw no problem with.
Jack: Isn’t your mom’s PET scan today?
Hannah with two N’s: Yeah, and I’m a nervous wreck. Distract me.
Jack: Open your app store. Search for Hannah with two N’s.
I froze. Was he serious?
I opened the app store and typed in what he’d said. And then I snort-laughed when an actual app came up. It was categorized under games. I clicked it, downloaded it for free, and opened level one.
It was some kind of first-person shooter game. I noticed that I was behind a rifle, looking down range. I exited the game and went back over to our texts.
Hannah with two N’s: I don’t like shooting games.
Jack: You’re from Idaho! Don’t you learn to shoot guns before you can walk? Kidding, trust me. Give it a ‘shot.’
I switched back to the app just in time to see a weird spiky blob float across the screen. I frowned in confusion, switching back to the message thread.
Hannah with two N’s: What is that?
Jack: It’s a cancer cell! Kill it!
I grinned.
Going back to the game, I tapped the moving blob on the screen and activated a stream of bullets. The bullets smashed into the cancer cell and it exploded, turning to confetti. I laughed, repeating it a few more times as the cells came faster and faster. Before I knew it, I was on level four. I had three guns now and the cancer cells were wearing mob boss suits and hats. This time when I shot them, they screamed, “Vinnieeeeee!” as they died.
This was the most thoughtful and hilarious thing anyone had ever done for me.
Hannah with two N’s: You’re amazing. That was fun, and somehow, I burned a half hour here waiting.
Jack: Glad you liked it. Let me know how everything goes with your mom.
I found myself thinking of next Christmas, nine months away. That would be the longest wait ever until I saw him again.
Hannah with two N’s: My church is having a worship concert this weekend and I’m performing a solo song. Will you be in town?
It was Wednesday, a long shot, but I was putting it out there. I’d been on my church’s worship team for five years now, and the concert only happened a few times a year. It was a big deal in Willow Harbor.
Jack: You sing? Probably have the voice of an angel.
He was avoiding the other part of my question, but his comment was sweet.
Hannah with two N’s: Do you want to come to town for my performance?
I wanted to take the text back the second I sent it. It was needy and felt like it crossed a line or blurred it at least. We were friends, and friends didn’t really fly out for small-town church concerts. But if I was being honest, I wouldn’t have mindedbeing more than friends. There was something special about Jack.
Jack: I only come to Willow Harbor on Christmas, Hannah. I’m sorry.
My heart sank into my stomach as tears pricked the corner of my eyes. I felt so stupid. I shouldn’t have asked. He was a busy business owner living in Seattle. He wasn’t going to make time to fly out and attend my small church concert. Though I wanted to argue that he’d come all the way over here to pick me up for our India trip. Still, I could take a hint.
I put my phone back into my pocket just as the nurse came out with my mom. I slapped a big smile on my face and blinked back any remnant of tears.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
The nurse parked my mom right next to me. “Doctor Reed is looking over the scans. He’ll be with you in a minute. I’ll take you over to the consultation room where you can wait for him.”
