The Marine

The List

Anxiety swelled in my chest. 

I dialed the number. 

It was time and I needed to ensure my health would be ok. Hiding from it because I was scared wasn't what my parents would have wanted, or my grandpa. The line rang a few beats before a secretary picked up. 

"Kapiolani Cancer Center.."

"Hi, I need to schedule an appointment." 

Once I got the words out, it was as if a tight balloon had been deflated. I could breathe normally. The actual appointment itself would be another hurdle to surmount but for now, I took the first step. 

"We have availability in two days, if you can come in?" 

I booked the appointment and hung up. It was done. I would take off and then go in by myself. Easy peasy. I hoped. Imaging was cumbersome and took a long time. First came the IV, then waiting. Then in you go, into the MRI machine. I never could lay still like they wanted so I had to listen to a podcast through headphones. And do a lot of internal calming down. But I would do it. 

No matter what, you'll be ok.

My dads voice echoed in my mind. He'd said that the first time I got a follow up MRI after being diagnosed. It made me feel safe and protected. Maybe he was still around, trying to tell me the same thing. 

But what about Luca? What do I do about him? I genuinely had no idea. Bothering him wasn't going to help. No, he needed to initiate contact first. Especially after telling me he 'couldn't handle this' on my porch, and saying he had to deal with work. 

I silently mulled over my list when my front doorbell rang. Then banging on the door. Who was there? I bolted up and ran to open it. Mrs. Mahaka stood frantically, tugging on my hand. 

"Terry! He's collapsed! You need to come! Come Mila!"

I ran back inside and grabbed my phone and wallet, then locked the front door. Panic was setting in. Terry was family, or ohana. It means everything in Hawaii. 

"Where is he?" I asked as we ran. 

"In the front yard. He got home from a buffet in Honolulu and then collapsed. His friend ran to get me." 

We finally reached his house and I saw him crumpled on the grass, his face contorted, obviously in pain. An equally older man had bunched up a jacket under Terry's head. 

"We just went to eat. He was fine! It's got to be his heart!" The man lamented. 

"Terry. . . It's me. Mila." 

I took one of his hands and held it. He was pale, which I knew wasn't good. 

"Where is the ambulance?!" I asked. 

"It's coming. They are coming!" Mrs. Makaha shouted. 

Terry tried to speak but I shushed him. He needed to breathe. Stay still. I prayed in my mind that God would spare him, so we wouldn't lose him yet. Not yet.