The Beautiful Between - Alyssa B. Sheinmel [47]
“We’re definitely moving forward with the bone marrow,” he begins, without saying hello or even giving me a cigarette.
“What?”
“The bone marrow. I go to get tested to see if I’m a match tomorrow.”
“Oh. Okay.” I’m a little put out that he’s opening with this instead of with my father. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t help it.
“I’m nervous, though. I mean, I hope I’m a match, of course, but …” Jeremy’s voice trails off, and it looks like he’s about to cry. “My parents are so excited. They’re sure I’ll be a match; they’re sure this step is all that Kate needs. I don’t want to disappoint them. But I’m so scared.
“Isn’t that awful? I mean, of course I want to be a match and of course I don’t care what they have to do to me to get the marrow out for Kate. But I’m still so scared of how much it’ll hurt. God.”
I don’t know what to say. I mean, I would be scared too, but it’s strange to see Jeremy acting so frightened. Jeremy covers his eyes with the heels of his hands. I can see he’s pressing hard. I don’t know how to change the subject to my father.
“What else did the doctor say?” I ask, and when Jeremy looks at me, hard, I add, “About the procedure?”
“I don’t know. I stopped listening. He was talking percentages, success rates. I was getting angry, kind of, like, he was getting us so excited about this and at the same time he was telling us that there’s such a small chance it’ll even work. They’re so determined. My mother—like when she’s planning a party for one of her charities and everything’s up in the air and the caterer’s canceled and the tickets aren’t selling, she always knows how to get everything right so that it’s perfect on party night. She loves solving problems, getting all the answers. Like this is no different from that.”
“Well, maybe it isn’t.” Jeremy looks at me, shocked. “I just mean, well, I figure the doctor knows better than the rest of us. He’s supposed to be the best.” And then I see an opportunity to steer the conversation back to me, and even though I know I shouldn’t be so selfish, I say, “I’m sure that’s why my family chose him.” Without a cigarette, I can crush my hands into fists inside my pockets.
“Huh?”
“Why my parents went to him—to Dr. Kleinbaum, for my dad.”
Jeremy blinks. “Of course,” he says, and it’s like he’s remembered his manners, or remembered I’m there, or something. “I didn’t get anything about your dad, Sternin.”
“What?” I spit the word out hotly, watch the cloud that my breath makes.
“He didn’t tell me anything.”
“Did you ask?”
“Yes, but he said he couldn’t tell me anything.”
“Didn’t he say anything?”
“No.”
“Well, tell me what the conversation was.”
“I’m so tired, Sternin,” he says, and I can tell he’s expecting me to stop talking about my father—to reach out to him, give him a hug, rub his back, tell him it will be okay. But I don’t; I’m still thinking about my father. I’m still waiting for him to tell me about the conversation, and he knows it. Jeremy steps away from me, and my hair whips in front of me, so that I can’t see Jeremy’s face anymore. I realize he’d been blocking the wind for me.
“He didn’t tell me anything,” he says, and it’s strange not to be able to see him when he’s talking to me. I press my hair behind my ears. “Nothing that matters.” Jeremy says with finality, as though that’s that and there’s no point in talking anymore.
“It matters to me. You promised,” I insist. I sound like a spoiled five-year-old.
“Jesus, Sternin, he didn’t tell me anything. I’m sorry.” Jeremy’s voiced is raised. He doesn’t sound sorry.
“You don’t sound sorry.”
“Well, fuck it, Sternin”—he throws his hands in the air helplessly—“I’m dealing with some shit of my own here.”
“God, you didn’t even try, did you? You didn’t even try to talk to him about my