Page 50 of His Last Shot

Ginger Ale and Lorna Doones

Rachel

Four years since the breakup

T he cool metal of the needle pierces my skin, a brief, sharp pain as the nurse inserts the IV, followed by the dull ache of the catheter. I wince.

“Sorry,” she apologizes as her lips form a tight line while taping it in place.

“It’s okay,” I reassure her. “I’m used to it at this point.”

She finishes setting me up for my monthly infusion.

A treatment that has helped my RA far better than anything the doctor back home could do for me.

Transferring my care to the Cleveland Clinic was the best decision I ever made for my health.

Although there is no simple fix for my RA, these infusions have given me my life back.

Literally. My pain has decreased, my joints are less stiff, and my quality of life has returned.

The nurse double-checks everything as I get comfortable in the chair. Reclining back, readying myself for the next two hours.

“I’ll be back in a little while to see how you’re doing. Do you need anything? Some Ginger Ale and Lorna Doones?” she asks with a wicked grin because she knows what I like.

“Oh, you know it. ”

As she scurries off to get my treats and tend to the other patients, I scooch down in the recliner, adjust the blanket over my legs, and settle in. With a tap, I open the news app on my phone to get caught up on the local happenings.

Recently, the local news cycle has been dominated by one grim and upsetting report in particular that hits far too close to home, leaving me uneasy.

Because that’s how I found out about Drew.

No, we weren’t friends, and I haven’t spoken to him since the finals.

However, at one time, he was a big part of my life.

He was someone I dated, got engaged to, loved, and the man who broke my heart.

But that doesn’t mean I wanted anything bad to happen to him.

Not even a little bit. I knew deep down the longer he had a relationship with my uncle, the more likely this was going to happen.

When the news first broke, I called his mother. She and I were close when Drew and I were together, so calling her felt natural. Like checking in on an old friend. She’s distraught and shocked, which is to be expected.

But none of this surprises me.

Because, like every other person my uncle did business with, he’s vanished without a trace, leaving only unanswered questions.

And I guarantee no one will ever find him.

And the tattoo? He never had that when we were together, and I have no clue when he got it. Honestly, it’s kinda sad. Perhaps if he was that devoted to me when we were together, things may have been different.

But I don’t like to think about it. Because that version of my story doesn’t include Johnny.

Two different thoughts plague me with this whole situation. One, if Johnny had thrown that match, he would have been in my uncle’s debt for life. Drew’s fate could have been Johnny’s.

And two, on some weird level, I’m grateful to my uncle. He didn’t harm Johnny after winning. Yes, he’s not in my life, but it could have been so much worse.

At least I know he is alive and out there. We sacrificed our future, but he’s safe. His family is safe. I’m safe .

That’s all that matters.

Of course, every thought I have always circles back to Johnny and our sacrifice. As usual, a boulder full of lead forms in my stomach when I think about how he’s not in my life.

Six months ago, during a rather slow day in the OR, I got a call from the ER saying that their suture nurse called off and that they needed a hand.

Craving a much-needed break, I volunteered.

When I arrived, all I was told was that it was the patient in bed six, and it was a hand laceration.

Opening that curtain and seeing him lying there shook me.

I never thought I would see him at my job.

Small world indeed.

He looked incredible, obviously. Sounded even better. But we couldn’t. Not yet, and not in my place of work. But the thirty minutes I spent with him, even though it was sad and emotional, was exhilarating.

Other than my grad ceremony, the necklace, and the keychain, there has been zero contact. It’s too risky. I even changed my phone number and blocked his number in case there was any temptation to contact me.

And I have missed him every day.

Every. Single. Day.

Resting my hand on my stomach, I attempt to force back the tears that are right there.

With a sigh, I pick up my phone again, the cool glass smooth against my fingertip as I scroll until I locate the news report I was digging for.

I’ve been following a story about a rehab facility that’s being built in the area.

The closest office to offer physical therapy for those with RA is an hour away.

Our community needs this, so I’m eager to learn about the progress.

Today, officials held a groundbreaking event for a new nonprofit medical facility planning to cater to the needs of those with physical disabilities in the valley.

The facility assists patients undergoing treatment for stroke, traumatic brain injury, and amputations, as well as individuals requiring support with their overall movement.

For example, those who may suffer from certain auto-immune diseases, such as rheumatoid arthritis.

“Our patients have some sort of mobile decline, meaning they can’t walk as well as they’d like to,” explains Dr. Michael Rossi, VP of Operations.

“They can’t take care of themselves, dress themselves, tie their shoes, brush their teeth.

Things that you and I take for granted are difficult for these patients.

So it’s our goal here to give them some quality of life back.

We hope to be able to provide that for them. ”

As reported earlier, there was resistance from local politicians regarding the implementation of this facility in the community, with the cost being the biggest factor.

Johnny Givens from Givens Construction, the company overseeing the build, speaks out for the first time about how he was instrumental in fighting through the red tape.

“There is a heavy need for this type of facility in our community,” Mr. Givens recently commented.

“ For me, it’s personal. When you have loved ones who can’t receive the basic medical care they need because of something as fixable as distance.

Well, let’s make it happen. Whatever it takes.

I will forever fight for these ones. Especially those I love. ”

The $15-million facility is being paid for through a real estate investment trust. Stewart-Miller Trust is financing the building. According to Mr. Givens, construction is expected to be completed by late summer.

My breath catches as those pesky tears I pushed back just moments ago are now resurfacing. Immediately, my hand shoots to my necklace.

I can’t believe he did this. It’s been four years, and he is still fighting for me. Through the article and his actions, he is sending me a declaration of his love.

If he could, I know he would be sitting next to me right now. Getting me through this with his usual bravado and jokes. Making me and the whole staff laugh along the way.

The distance has me in a constant chokehold. Still, even after four years, he’s telling me he cares and is waiting.

As I clutch the star, a single tear lands on my hand, eliciting a small smile at the thought.

I’m waiting as well.

I’ll wait forever.