Riley:
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There's a difference between fucking and making love.
Fucking is meaningless. You do it for yourself and no one else, you only care about yourself.
Making love is a term I've always hated but it has a deeper meaning. It's when you care about someone so deeply, that it's soft and not rushed. The thing about Val and I is that everyone believed when we were dating, that we were like newlyweds on our honeymoon.
We weren't.
We fought, and fought, and fought. She tried to fight with me because I got her the wrong flavored coffee, she'd tell me that I didn't care, or that I never cared about her. I felt bad, her parents wanted her to be some world-class surgeon and she wanted anything but that.
Then we'd make up with sex. It meant nothing honestly, and I hated it, she hated it. But she always came back and said 'No one else is like you'. But I'm not enough for her standards, no one is. She's just not made for dating.
Now she was trying to do the same with Lacy, the girl who was too fragile to go into surgery a couple of days ago, so she died for ninety-three seconds.
And now we have the same situation.
She was throwing up blood, lots of it into a plastic tray on the table, she had told Mia, who was playing with dolls on the bedside table while she sat on Lacy's bed, to look away. It had been a week since her surgery, since the accident.
"She has an ulcer, we need to get her into surgery, now! Get O.R. three ready!" Doctor. Wilson yelled as Lacy's body shook and her eyes fluttered.
"She's seizing! Christ," he ran his hands through his hair. "Come on Lacy," he muttered, lying the bed down flat.
She was fully awake though, her mouth opening to try and say things. Doctor. Dupont put a net on her hair, putting the breathing mask on her.
They pushed her out of the room and down the hall as her whole family watched, following her. I knew she'd be alright, it'd go smoothly just like last time.
I foreshadowed myself so badly.
****
After four hours of waiting, chewing on nails, and dead silence while Mia talked to herself, holding her dolls in her hand and moving them around as she waited in the chair next to Lacy's bed, waiting for her to come back and play again.
"Where's Lacy?" she asked.
"She had an appointment, sweetie," Mrs. Clarke said, clutching her purse in her hand.
Finally, Doctor. Dupont came in, looking at us sympathetically.
I only squinted my eyes shut and crossed every bone in my body.
"Lacy had a hole in her artery, she was bleeding out internally again. She lost a lot more blood than last time, we did everything we could-" She was cut off by a sob. A sob out of me. Out of her mom and dad, her siblings, and my mom, Mia still played with her dolls. How was she dead, she couldn't be, they needed to keep going on her.
"No, no, no she's not dead madam, don't worry. She died for a while and we started to give up but her heart used all its strength to get her back. See, she's very fragile right now because she's not eating enough, so it puts a strain on her heart because she's so weak. We are keeping her in the hospital for a while until she's not severely underweight,"
"She should be fifty-eight kilograms, at the minimum, that's a hundred and thirty pounds, but she's fifty-two kilograms, which is a hundred and fifteen pounds, someone who's eleven to thirteen should weigh that much, at the minimum," she said, growing angry.
"Doctor. Dupont, we don't restrict her eating, and the school doesn't either, we sent her to rehab a while ago when this first happened, we thought it'd get better," Mrs. Clarke said, her face worried.
"Well she claims she forgets to eat," the doctor said.
"That's what she said last time," Lorelei said.
Doctor. Dupont hummed to herself and looked at us. "We recommend, with her schedule, someone who can monitor what she's eating, or a journal, an eating journal, it says when she purges, when she eats-" she got cut off again.
"She purges?" Mr. Clarke asked.
"I don't know sir," she said. "We're bringing her back soon," she said before leaving the room.
"Riley? Did you know about this?" Mrs. Clarke asked me.
"I didn't, she told me that she forgot to eat sometimes but I'd give her something when she said that, it was usually raspberries or apples though," I shook my head, finally realizing. How could I be so stupid?
I tried to remind myself that she's alive, that she's gonna be okay with time and food, but maybe if I had made her eat more, she'd be better.
****
Lacy's pulse was slow but she was stable, she had already started physical therapy after the first surgery, just for her broken bones.
Everyone else was in the cafeteria right now, it'd been a couple of days since her second surgery. She couldn't even talk to us, she was too embarrassed to talk.
"Angel," I said softly, putting a hand on hers. I was growing impatient with her act, I understood that she was embarrassed but she needed to talk to us about something. She died twice, that's not something that you don't talk about.
"Your parents talked to some people and you're gonna have a food monitor now, I met her, and she's very nice," I told her, looking at her gaze that avoided mine. "You shouldn't be embarrassed, it's not something you can control, it's your brain taking control of your actions and thoughts," I told her.
Silence.
"Lacy," I said firmly.
She finally looked at me, turning her head and looking into my eyes, her eyes were watery.
"I don't wanna do this anymore," her words were broken.
"What do you mean?" I asked her, hushing her gently.
"I don't want to wake up tomorrow, I sit here every day and hope that one day I won't wake up," her voice was shaky. "I don't want to feel like that," she said.
"You had to stop taking your anti-depressant for a bit, but once you can go back on it, I'm sure you're gonna feel so much better, right?" I said, running my finger over her hand.
"I know, I just need it now, I can't keep feeling like this, I don't want to," she sniffled.
"I know, I know," I said, wiping her tears with my thumb and kissing her hand, drawing shapes into her palm. "Let's ask Doctor. Wilson, when you can take it again, okay?" I said and she nodded.
"What'd you think of me when you first met me?" she asked randomly.
"I thought of ways to get in your leotard," I chuckled and she laughed, throwing her head against the pillows and holding her stomach.
"Really?" she asked.
"Every day," I admitted. "I hated you though,"
"Now you don't," she smiled softly, holding my hand.
"Now I don't," I smiled. "What'd you think of me when you first met me?"
"I thought that you were some sort of model 'cause you were so pretty," she said blankly.
I felt heat rise to my face and I looked down at my lap with a smile.
"Shush," I smiled.
"Nuhuh," she shook her head. "Shut me up yourself,"
I raised an eyebrow at her and kissed her quickly, squeezing her hand.
"I'm still talking," she shrugged.
"What do you want me to do?" I laughed.
She only bit her lip and giggled while I looked at her confused. "Put your name in my mouth," she said to me, looking at me with sleepy eyes.
"Lacy," I laughed, feeling the heat on my cheeks grow.
"Do it, I dare you," she chewed on her lip.
"I'm not doing...that to you, not here and not anytime soon," I laughed.
"Fine," she let out an exasperated sigh.
Maybe you could fuck and make love. With a few exceptions.