Under My Skin by Laura Diamond Read Free Book Online Page B

bedside stands, an unnecessary divider.
    “Bring my bag too, dear.” Mum speaks with a jovial tone, but the smacks she gives the pillow are anything but light.
    I clear my throat. “Please, Dad, take Mum home. I’ll be fine.”
    Mum tips her chin down. “You’re anything but fine.”
    Dad rubs the top of his head.
    I dodge her jab and counter. “Wouldn’t you rather sleep in your own bed? I know I would.”
    Mum shrugs. “I’d rather be here with you.”
    She probably won’t let me have a moment to myself from now on, with what happened at school. I hope she won’t follow me into the bathroom.
    “What’s going to happen? I’ll be sleeping all night. I think.” I fuss with the wires connected to stickers spattered across my chest. They plug into a small device tucked into my gown’s pocket that transmits a wireless signal to the antennae above. An EKG tracing comes out on a monitor at the nurses’ station. The wires get in the way more than anything.
    Dad smirks. “You know nobody gets sleep in the hospital.”
    Mum sits on the cot, stubborn as ever.
    I play my final, most desperate, card. “I’ll sign myself out against medical advice.” Technically, I can’t really refuse treatment because I’m under age, but I give it a shot anyway.
    Mum doesn’t bother justifying my lame move with an answer.
    “Nice try, son, but you’re not going anywhere.” Dad pinches Mum’s cheek. “I’m sorry about forgetting your bag, love.”
    She picks at a fingernail, then lifts her face to him. A smile softens her lips. “No worries, David. I’m not mad.” She gives him a forgiving peck on the cheek.
    Dad kisses her forehead. “See you in the morning.”
    And just like that, they’re back to their lovey-dovey selves.
    “Goodnight, Dad.”
    “Love you, Adam.”
    The overnight nurse enters as Dad leaves. He’s wearing black scrubs and Hipster-style glasses that clash with his pudgy, middle-aged physique and way too mainstream crew cut.
    He checks my blood pressure and makes sure the stickers are still sticking. “I’ll do my best to leave you alone, unless your heart decides to jump into an unstable rhythm, of course. The best thing you can do now is sleep. I’ll be watching on the monitor. Try not to toss and turn. The leads might come off and I’ll have to wake you up to reattach them.”
    After he leaves, Mum tucks me in like I’m a five year old. “Are you comfortable? Do you need another pillow? Are you warm enough?”
    “I’m okay.” I use the call button remote to turn off the overhead lights and then turn on the TV. I click through the channels, not really paying attention to the shows.
    She leans over me, blocking my view of a CGI-green screen-actor battle-scene mash-up of a SyFy super awesome train wreck of a movie. “That’s a horrible reflex you’ve developed.”
    I frown. “Huh?”
    “Whenever I ask a question you say, ‘I’m alright’ or ‘I’m fine.’ It’s hard to know what you’re really thinking.” The brightness from the TV illuminates her hair from behind, a holy glow. The way she’s sacrificing her happiness for me should earn her sainthood. I should write a letter to the Pope.
    Then again, if she’d ease up and drop the inquisition for a minute, maybe I wouldn’t have a “reflex” response.
    She peers into my eyes. “Adam. Are you in there?”
    I twist the call bell cord around my fingers. “Yes. It’s just … this sucks. I don’t want to be here.”
    She caresses my cheek with her warm hand. “You’re prioritized on the transplant list now. With any luck, we won’t have to wait long. But we have to be patient.”
    “You think everything will be fixed when I get a new heart.”
    She straightens. “It will.”
    I chew on my lip. A new heart isn’t the end of this. It’s the beginning. I’ll have to get used to taking a fistful of anti-rejection meds, wearing masks during cold and flu seasons, and a rigorous (for me) exercise routine. Plus, it