Soph:
But it’s infusion night tonight.
Me:
It’s fine. Every second day is my routine, but I could go 3, maybe 4 days at a stretch before things get dire. I’ll have Factor in my hands tomorrow morning, which means I’ll infuse tomorrow night and be back on track.
Soph:
I can overnight you some of Jen’s batch. Saves you the effort of going to the pharmacy, and you wouldn’t even have to stab yourself with a needle.
Jen’s are called M&Ms… ya know, like the candy. But also, she named it for you. Minka. Mayet.
Take one pill a day with breakfast. No mess. No fuss. You won’t get tired, and since it’s a slow-release, daily schedule, you won’t experience the ups and downs you currently do.
Me:
Hard pass. Once she has FDA approval, I’ll consider it. Until then, I might stick with the stuff that’s kept me alive for almost 3 decades.
Soph:
She can’t get FDA approval without trials, and she can’t host trials without patients agreeing to test the meds. Seeing as how you’re the only patient she’s making them for, you’re forcing us into an impasse. Don’t be so damn selfish!
I choke out a weary, snotty laugh and tip my head back to lean against the door.
Me:
Yeah, I’m the selfish one. My bad.
P.S. Can you hook my phone up with that app thingy that monitors Steve’s heart?
Please.
I’ve abandoned the man with all those Malones when it was my duty to be with him. Now I have no clue how he’s doing.
Soph:
Already did it. Check your home screen when we’re done. No need to even log in. The app not only monitors his heart, but it’s where Mary inputs her hourly notes: BP, fluids and food intake, sleep schedule. All that good stuff. You won’t be able to see him, but you’ll get the next best thing.
You sure you don’t wanna talk about the Archer thing? I feel a little responsible… ya know, seeing as how it was my plan all along to bring you in on the Agosti thing.
If not for that, you and your man would probably be chillin’ over a glass of wine and dirty sex right about now.
Me:
Don’t sweat it. This is on me.
Pushing away from the door, I cast one last look through the hole—Harrison is exactly where I left him, his eyes still alert, his shoulders swollen with adrenaline and muscle—then I spin and head toward the bathroom.
To shower alone.
To go to bed alone.
He promised to always be wherever I am.
It wasn’t a lie at the time, but in a single afternoon, his words became an easily unraveled commitment.
Lock it down. Lock it in. Alone is exactly how you preferred life not so long ago.
