Free Love Always, Damian by D. Nichole King Page B

elbow. Other than the medical tape and cotton balls, I don’t see anything, but I know what she’s going to say next.
    “He took a lot of my blood because there might be something wrong with me. I don’t want to be sick for always,” she sobs, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t want to lose my hair.”
    Footfalls close behind me make me turn my head. My father stands inside the doorway watching us. I nod at him to let him know I’ll be right there, then I return to the girl.
    “Hey, it’ll be okay. Just because your blood might not be all right doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you . I used to know this girl who was the most beautiful girl inside and out. Even when she lost all her hair. She spent a lot of time in this very room, and you know what she did almost every day?”
    The girl shakes her head.
    “She wrote in a diary. It was her secret place where she could say anything she wanted, any time she wanted.”
    “I’m not very good at writing. Except my name.”
    I reach behind her, grab a piece of paper and a box of crayons, and hand them to her. “No, but you can draw, right?”
    A small smile forms on her lips. “I like to color.”
    “Good. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you your own book and your own crayons, and you can draw pictures about anything you want.”
    Her eyes brighten at my offer. “You’re going to make a good doctor someday,” she says.
     
    ~*~
     
    The clock in my dad’s office reads four-thirty. Ellie’s and Lia’s plane leaves at six, and they’ll be on their way home, safely away from me.
    “What’s her name and what’s wrong with her?” I ask my dad, and he knows I’m referring to the little girl in The Commons.
    “You know I can’t—”
    “Hypothetically.”
    He laughs and takes off his glasses. “Hypothetically, huh?”
    “Yeah, tell me a story.”
    Dad rubs his chin. “All right, once upon a time there was a six-year-old girl named Olivia. Her parents kept taking her to the doctor for chronic bronchitis. Olivia seemed to be sick more often than she was well. Then she began to complain about frequent stomachaches and that she couldn’t breathe. She lost weight, and when her parents noticed swelling on her belly and under her arms, they rushed her back to clinic. Their family doctor referred the girl to another doctor who specializes in blood cancers. That doctor is keeping her for testing.”
    “What does that doctor think is wrong with her?”
    “He needs to run a couple more tests, but he’s fairly confident it’s Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.”
    “Cancer,” I mumble.
    “Cancer.”
    I sigh. “What’s her prognosis?”
    “I think we caught it early, so good. Very good.”
    I lean back against the chair, thinking about how Olivia is only three years older than Lia. How it would kill me if Lia ended up here. They’re so young, only kids. Kids should be—I don’t know—not here.
    I stand up and walk over to Dad’s bookshelf. Medical journals line most of the shelves, all except the top two. Those are reserved for old family pictures. There’s one of Liam holding me after I was born. One of Mom and Dad ringing in the new year two years before she died. One of Dad, Liam, and me playing basketball in our driveway.
    I don’t reach for any of those though. Instead, I grab the collage of Liam when he volunteered here. It’s littered with pictures of my brother and little bald-headed patients. He’s grinning like an idiot in all of them, but so are the kids. Yeah, my brother’s joy was in helping people.
    I’m not ready to tell my father about Lia. Or about Ellie’s return. Still, I’ve always been compared to my saint of a brother, and I need to know if I’m out of my mind.
    “We both know that Liam would’ve made a great dad, but do you think I could handle it?” I ask.
    “Where did this come from?” Dad asks.
    I shrug. “Olivia, I guess.”
    Dad gets up and joins me at the bookcase. He peers over my shoulder at the pictures I’m