Dark Moon by Victoria Wakefield Read Free Book Online Page A

I joked.
    We got to the
restaurant and Michael handed his keys to the valet. “After you,” he said, opening
the door.
    I stepped inside.
The décor was really fun. The low lighting had a red tone to it and black
booths lined the walls. There was a long bar at the far end, and in the middle
of the room were high-top tables.
    The place was
packed. We made our way to the hostess and Michael gave her his name. A couple
of minutes later, we were led to a secluded booth in one of the back corners of
the restaurant.
    “The owner
promised me the best table in the house,” Michael said, “but I didn’t expect it
to be this nice.”
    “So you haven’t
been here before?” I asked.
    “No, you’re my
first.”
    A waitress brought
us menus and a wine list.
    “Do you drink
wine?” Michael asked me.
    “That’s what I was
drinking the other night,” I said laughing. “When I ran into you outside of my
dorm.”
    “You were so
adorable,” he said. “I knew, of course, that you were lit.” Michael grinned.
    “My roommate
Maryanne and I were having a night in,” I told him. “I don’t drink a lot,” I
added hastily.
    “I’m not one to
judge. Is red okay?” Michael asked me.
    “Yes, but remember
I’m twenty. What if they ask for ID?”
    “They won’t,” he
responded.
    Sure enough, the
waitress brought the bottle of wine that Michael ordered without questioning my
age.
    I took a sip of
the Chianti, trying not to gulp it down but hoping it would help to calm my
nerves. I should have asked Maryanne to get a bottle, so I could have had a
drink before we left.
    But I didn’t want
to make a fool of myself, either. I was wearing Maryanne’s gorgeous stilettos
that looked fabulous with the dress but weren’t the easiest shoes to walk in. The
last thing I needed to do was get wasted and fall flat on my face.
    “What made you
decide to become an oncologist?” I asked Michael. “And you’re so young; how
long have you been practicing?”
    “It will be two
years next month,” Michael replied. “My mother died when I was in college from
stomach cancer, which is what spawned my passion for oncology.”
    “That’s horrible!
I’m so sorry,” I said.
    “It was the
darkest time in my life. I had been such a fuck-up before then. I was barely
passing school. Spending all of my time with friends, drunk, partying, playing
video games.”
    “I can’t imagine
that,” I said. “You seem so…put together.”
    “That was nine
years ago. I’m a different person now,” he said seriously. “Have you ever had
one single thing in your life completely change who you are?”
    I nodded. “Yes, I
have,” I whispered.
    Michael looked
like he was expecting for me to elaborate, but I shook my head. “I want to hear
your story,” I told him.
    “When my mom got
sick, I didn’t grasp the seriousness of it. People get sick and then they get
well. I had no comprehension that cancer was a completely different monster.
After her diagnosis, she deteriorated quickly. We didn’t even have a year.”
Michael paused.
    “Before she died, I
took a leave of absence from school to help my family. Tried to become the son
I should have always been. I took her to chemo, talked to a lawyer to help
arrange mom’s will and ultimately, planned her funeral. Rose and my father were
shattered, immobile.”
    “Michael, that’s
so sad. But doesn’t it remind you of her, every day when you see terminally ill
patients?” I asked.
    He nodded. “It
does, but I feel like what I’m doing might someday save another mom, sister,
father.” He shrugged. “Everyone has loved ones. We all crave human connection.
It’s incredibly heart wrenching to see these families that gather in the exam
room, hope in their eyes, praying for good news. And, sure, sometimes it is
good news. But the majority of the time, the outlook is bleak.”
    His words rang in
my ears. Everyone has loved ones. We all crave human connection. I had
spent so much of the last couple