“Being as safe as you can is still killing yourself!” she yelled.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure I’m still alive.”
“You’re so selfish,” she said bitterly.
“Selfish? It’s my f**king body and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. Having MS doesn’t change that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not saying you can’t do what you want. I’m saying what you want to do is really, really stupid.”
I shrugged and got back into position for more pushups.
“This conversation isn’t over,” she shrieked. “Get up!”
My knees hit the floor and I sat up. “Okay. What else do you have?”
It looked like she was trying to use her eyes to bore a hole into my chest. “You don’t respect me. If you won’t stop fighting when it’s obviously so stupid, I don’t think I can be close to you. Every time you fight, I’m worried you’re going to get knocked out and die! It drives me crazy.”
I locked eyes with her. “Ada, I do respect you. Still, nothing’s gonna stop me from making my own decisions. If you don’t respect that, then I don’t know what to tell you.”
She narrowed her eyes in anger. “Oh my god, you’re impossible! I can’t do this anymore. You’ve changed, Hunter. I remember when you were driven and had goals. Ever since you got kicked out of ROTC, it’s been the same shit with you. Showing people you’re in control of your life. Maybe you’re showing yourself—I don’t know—but all you’ve shown me is that you’re a selfish child.”
Fuck her shit, no one was going to tell me what to do. I stared at her for a moment and got back down to doing pushups. She sighed angrily one more time before picking up her bag and walking out the door. We broke up for good the next day.
Yesterday
I lay in my hospital bed, hooked up to more monitors than I thought possible. This was the worst I’d ever felt. I’d had another flare-up. I couldn’t ask Lorrie for help so here I was, with Ada. She had driven me to the campus health center a few days before, and since then she had visited every day. I appreciated her help, but I was just waiting for the other foot to drop.
Ada and I had fun when we weren’t dealing with my MS. But whenever my MS came up, a bitter argument was soon to follow. If Ada didn’t agree with something, she would keep arguing until she got her way. She didn’t seem to grasp the words “it’s not your business.”
Lorrie was different. She didn’t know the full story, but she never pried, never tried to tell me what to do. That night, after the fight, I could see it in her eyes: a cool disapproval for the face bashing I just gave the other guy. Even though she didn’t know me at the time, I could tell she didn’t like it. A girl like her didn’t need the fighting, the violence, the feeling of going toe to toe with an angry, out of control monster in a tight confined space, but I did, and she never asked me to stop. I knew I should have told Lorrie about my MS but I couldn’t.
Ada broke into my thoughts. “I’ll be right back Hunter, going to grab something from the vending machine.”
I nodded.
The first time Lorrie ran into me outside the health center, I almost told her. Told her about the disease that was eating through my nerves and would destroy my body eventually. I’d been in the health center getting my monthly treatment. A 10cc dose of corticosteroids, injected directly into my left thigh. Thing was, it always put me in a sour mood. I’d be weak and tired for at least forty-eight hours. Couldn’t train, couldn’t fight, couldn’t do shit. A useless bag of flesh.
Usually, I’d spend those days holed up drinking, watching TV, and f**king girls whose names I barely knew. On the worst days, I’d never let anybody see me. Doctor said no alcohol, but f**k him. Sometimes I’d melt one of the stupid model planes I collected in high school over my stove top until it was a puddle of gray plastic.
I’d clean up the apartment once the side effects wore off. Toss out the beer cans, take out the trash. Get ready to do it all over again in another month.
But that day was different, I ran into Lorrie on my way out of the health center. I told her I’d been getting a couple fight injuries patched up and asked her if she wanted to hang out. Usually I didn’t like being around people after my treatment, but Lorrie was different. We ate popcorn and watched some movies. When she fell asleep on my shoulder that night, it almost made me forget about my problems. That was the first night I broke from my post-treatment tradition of getting wasted and feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t tell her about the MS though. I didn’t want to risk ruining what we had.
Ada came back into the room from grabbing a snack and I snapped back to reality. Ada was the first person I told about my diagnosis. Crazy as it was, that was the tightest bond remaining in our friendship. The only other people who knew were Gary and the hospital staff responsible for my care. Well, them and McHenry.
“How are you feeling?” Ada asked.
“Just tired,” I said. I felt a lot better ever since the doctor had come in the previous night and told me I could probably leave midday today.
Her eyes found mine. “Seeing okay?”
Sometimes my vision got blurry during flare-ups but it wasn’t bad this time. I nodded. “Yeah, today I’m seeing fine.”
“Good.”
We sat in tense silence for a moment. The monitors I was hooked up to continued to flash regularly.
“You should tell her,” Ada said pointedly, breaking the silence.
I closed my eyes. If there was one thing Ada didn’t mind doing, it was having the same argument over and over. I sucked in a deep breath.
“Here,” she said, handing me my own phone. Lorrie had texted me a few times, but I hadn’t responded. What the hell was I gonna tell her?
“Not now Ada. I’ll tell her when I’m ready.”
“If you really think she’s different from other girls, you should tell her. The fact you won’t makes me wonder if you really like her or if there’s something else going on.”
“What do you mean?” I growled, struggling to keep my voice down. Ada was just trying to goad me.
“Don’t take that tone with me Hunter. It’s a legitimate question. Are you sure you’re not just into her because of her whole ‘my-life-is-so-tragic-save-me’ act?”
I tried to keep a steady tone, but my chest was getting tight from the way Ada was talking about Lorrie. “Fuck you Ada. You don‘t know the first thing about her.”