Wait
She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even open my reply.
I laugh to myself knowing she’s likely passed out from a long day.
Once I’ve liked every single photo on her feed, I lock my phone and toss it onto the nightstand.
Then her name flashes on my screen.
A video call.
I jolt upright, run a hand over my buzzed hair, and check my teeth like a lunatic.
I haven’t eaten in hours.
Exhaustion doesn’t cancel out vanity.
I answer the call.
"So much for sleep," I tease as I rest my back against my headboard.
"You’re the one who assumed I’d be going to bed this early. Besides, my body doesn’t like it when I’m this full of adrenaline. Feels like I have little tiny heartbeats over every inch of my skin." She smiles lightly, and it makes her seem lighter. I bet she feels a little better being able to talk about it so freely.
"The way you describe things is…"
"I know. I’m probably a little too descriptive." She shrugs, combing her fingers through her wet hair as she sits down on her couch. "Comes with being a writer, I suppose."
"I get it. Orlando was the exact same when he was first diagnosed." The quiet between us is comfortable, but I have the urge to break it. "When did you get diagnosed?"
I want to know as much about her story as possible.
"A couple hours before I went on stage for the first time on this tour." She takes a deep, shaky breath. I know there’s more she wants to say, so I wait for her to be ready.
Finding out such life-changing news the day she’s about to embark on something she probably worked for her whole life? Yeah, that would’ve been a hard pill to swallow. And she’s hidden it from everyone close to her, too.
"I went on a smaller tour with Akira a few months ago, which you know about. My sister, Cassandra, had just found out she was pregnant. Jenna and Cole had just finished up the filming of their movie in Grangewood, and Lizzie was just…busy, living her life. So, when they asked me to go on that tour, it felt like the right time. It was all acoustic shows, and I built a small following from that. But once I’d gotten home, my body just felt different, in a way."
"Different, how?"
"I’ve always been really in tune with my body. I could always tell when I was getting sick, or when I’m ovulating, or about to get my period. But this was just different. My energy had dwindled. My brain felt like there was a constant cloud around it, making everything around me so hard to understand. So foggy. I couldn’t even remember the names of people I’d worked alongside for the last few years." The expression on her face changes. It softens in a way that looks like she’s about to break.
"You don’t need to talk about it," I reassure her.
Olive shakes her head. "I want to. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest. If you’re okay with it, that is. I don’t want to bombard you," she quickly says, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink. "I didn’t even think that you might not be comfortable with it. I’m sorry."
"I’m comfortable. Tell me everything you want to."
She smiles. "So I admitted myself into the hospital."
"How come you haven’t told your family?" I ask.
She hangs her head while scrunching up her nose. "Because they worry. They worry so much, and Cassandra doesn’t need that. None of them do. My parents are getting older. They’ve just become grandparents. They don’t need their joy over that to be ripped away over something that might…might take—"
"It won’t."
"I know." Her lip trembles. "But it might."
"And we will focus on thatifthat time ever comes. Heavy on theif,Olive. Really fucking heavy, and I mean it." I wish she were here beside me. But she’s on the other side of the country being an absolute rock-star. I have an early flight tomorrow to Chicago, so I can’t even drop everything to be there with her. "This marriage might be business, but I’ll still be here for you when this is all over. Even if you don’t need me to be"
