Melissa Kantor - Maybe One Day

“Hey,” said Jake. He came over and gave me a hug.

“Hi,” I said. He was wearing his football uniform, and he looked pale, paler even than Olivia. His pallor inspired an insane fantasy—that Jake was the one who was sick. Without even meaning to, I conjured up the phone call from Olivia that could have been. I have terrible news. My brother has leukemia. I pictured coming to the hospital to see Jake or one of the twins, and as I did, I felt my heart leap with joy. Then I felt awful. I was wishing sickness on a healthy person. But no, it wasn’t like that. This was a trade . A sick person for another sick person. A different sick person. An eye for an eye.

An eye for an eye? Was that even what that saying meant?

And since when did I quote the Bible?

Livvie patted a spot on the bed, but before I could move toward it, her mom stood up, clearly preparing to block my approach. “Zoe, can you clean your hands very carefully?” She nodded at the Purell dispenser on the wall.

I quickly crossed to it and doused my hands, rubbing the Purell in even when it stung my finger where I’d ripped off part of the nail. Then I went over and sat next to Livvie, who shifted to make room for me. I put my arm around her, letting my shoes hang off the edge of the bed, and she laid her head on my shoulder. I wanted to say something. Anything. But everything I thought of saying sounded completely stupid and awful. Of all the bizarre things that had happened today, my being tongue-tied around Olivia might have been the strangest.

“Well, this completely sucks,” she said finally, and then we laughed. The laughter felt a little bit hollow and a little bit forced. Still, it felt good to be sitting next to Olivia and laughing. It felt normal. Olivia looked normal. She sounded normal. Everything about this moment was totally normal.

Except that it wasn’t.

“You are going to be fine ,” said Livvie’s mom, patting Olivia’s hand.

“My mom keeps saying that,” Olivia whispered, loud enough for her mother to hear.

Her mother smiled and kept patting. “Because it’s true,” she said.

“Okay,” said Livvie. There was a little frustration in her voice but none of the venom that had been in mine when I was screaming at my mother earlier. Even with cancer, Olivia was a nicer person than I was.

“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel …” She considered the question carefully, then turned her head to face me. “I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Like none of this can really be happening.” Her voice shook a little bit on the word happening.

I squeezed her shoulders, worrying after I did it that I’d somehow mess up her IV.

The door opened less dramatically than it had when I’d entered. I expected it to be my mom, or maybe one of Olivia’s grandparents, but instead Calvin Taylor walked in. He was also in his football uniform. His hair was messy and there was a long scrape on his forearm. In his hands was a cardboard tray with four cups of Starbucks coffee.

“Piping hot,” he said to the room. Then he went over to Olivia’s dad and handed him one of the cups. Without getting off his phone, Mr. Greco nodded his thanks.

“You were so sweet to run out and get these,” said Mrs. Greco as she took a cup from him. “And after you drove Jake all the way here.”

“I didn’t mind,” he said. “Really.” Then he looked at Olivia. “Sure you don’t want one?” He touched her foot gently and smiled at her.

She shook her head. “No, thanks.” I glanced at her, but there was no obvious response to Calvin’s being in her hospital room or touching her.

He thrust his chin vaguely in my direction by way of greeting, then went over to where Jake was sitting and stood beside him. “Hey, man,” he said, handing him one of the two remaining cups. Jake said something to him, and Calvin said, “Sorry,” quietly, and went over to the Purell dispenser.

What was Calvin Taylor doing leaving football practice to drive Jake into the city and go on a coffee run for the Grecos? He wasn’t part of the family. Not that I was part of the family, but I was pretty damned close. Calvin had only lived in Wamasset for a few years. I’d known Olivia for more than a decade .

I felt irritated that the Grecos were asking Calvin to help out and then irritated at myself for being irritated. The Grecos needed support now. If Calvin offered Jake—or any of them, really—that support, I should be happy to see him in Olivia’s hospital room.

Still, I wasn’t. And it wasn’t just because he’d teased me about Jackson. There was something about Calvin—the way every girl at school drooled over him, the way the school newspaper ran his picture on the sports page every five seconds, the way he was too important to bother to acknowledge me. Even his whole I’m-so-helpful-let-me-be-your-chauffeur-and-delivery-boy routine, which the Grecos were clearly falling for, rubbed me the wrong way.

Was I the only one who could see that he was a self-satisfied ass?

The door opened again. This time my mom walked in. “Hi, guys,” she said quietly, and then she used the Purell dispenser. I was surprised that she knew she had to do that.

Olivia’s mom stood up and went over to my mom. They hugged and then started talking quietly, too quietly for me to hear what they were saying. Over by the window, Calvin and Jake talked. Olivia’s dad typed on his BlackBerry. Even though there were almost half a dozen people in the room with us, I felt like we were suddenly alone together.

Olivia must have felt the same way because when she started talking, it was clear that she was talking just to me. “I really think I’m going to be okay,” she said. Her eyes had purplish circles under them. How long had they been there? How had I not noticed? “I was freaking out before, but … I don’t know, I just sense that I’m going to be okay.”

Immediately I said, “Of course you’re going to be okay.” Then I regretted saying it. I hoped I didn’t sound too much like her mom.

The door to the room opened again, and this time a woman in a white lab coat came in. She was short, with gray streaks in her brown curly hair.

“Hello!” She gave a wave to the room, then pressed the Purell dispenser and rubbed her hands together. “I’m glad to see Olivia has so much company.”

“We don’t want to tire her out, Dr. Maxwell,” said Mrs. Greco quickly.

“If you think it’s better for everyone to go, we’ll send them all home,” said Mr. Greco, getting to his feet.

The way Mr. Greco—who was a big partner at his law firm and who talked to pretty much everybody as if they were his employees—spoke to Dr. Maxwell, I could tell she was important.

Dr. Maxwell smiled at Olivia. “Are you tired?”

Olivia gave a little shrug. “I’m okay.”

“Good.” Her round tortoiseshell glasses caught the light and made it seem as if her eyes were sparkling. Under her lab coat she had on a pretty silk blouse. She came over to the bed. “You must be Zoe,” she said, and when I nodded, she went on. “Olivia told me about you. She’s really going to need her friends right now.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, like, Just to be clear, having cancer is not something good.

“Of course,” I said.

Dr. Maxwell slipped up the sleeve of Olivia’s hospital gown, checked something on Olivia’s chest briefly, then nodded. “It all looks good.” She glanced over her shoulder at the IV line hanging from the pole. “How are you feeling? Are you nauseated?” Her tone was the same as it had been when she’d told me Olivia would need her friends, and I started to get the sense she was just matter-of-fact about everything.