Midnight Sun(40)

Even more ominous is my dad’s face right now. He’s grinding his teeth. His eyebrows are furrowed so tightly together that they fuse into a single entity. He sits with his head in his hands, like it’s too heavy for his neck to hold up anymore.

“Why do they use such uncomfortable chairs?” Morgan muses. “We’re here to get healthy, and we’re gonna leave with back issues.”

My dad tries to smile at her. It comes off more like a grimace. I give her a little chuckle that turns into a sob.

“I’m sure everything’s fine,” Morgan says, putting a hand on my leg. “It was just for a second, if that. This is nothing. We’re all good here.”

Except that while she’s assuring me nothing’s wrong, we’re both staring at the girl in the waiting room who’s about my age. Her hands and head shake; her skin is covered in lesions and dark sores. We all know that might be me next.

My favorite nurse appears. “We’re ready for you, Katie.”

Dad goes to stand, but I put a hand out to stop him. “I’ll go myself this time.” If I’m old enough to practically kill myself by being so irresponsible, then I’m also old enough to face the consequences of my actions.

Dad nods. As I follow the nurse into the office area, Garver bursts through the hospital doors. He runs over to Morgan. She falls into his arms crying.

“Is she okay?” Garver asks.

Morgan doesn’t answer. She just buries her head in his shoulder and falls apart. I must look like the walking dead for her to be so upset. I wonder if I actually am.

Dr. Fleming gives me a warm hug when I get to the exam room. “It’s been a while, Katie,” she says, pulling back to take a closer look at me. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been at my appointments lately,” I tell her, climbing up onto the examining table with heavy, wooden legs.

Dr. Fleming offers an understanding smile. “Sometimes I think XP is harder on parents than patients. He was just trying to protect you.”

“And look how I thanked him for all his sacrifices.” I want to cry, but it’s like I have no tears left in me at this point.

“There’s no sense in looking backward, Katie,” Dr. Fleming tells me. “And we’ll deal with whatever is in front of us together. Okay?”

I nod. Nurse Jane takes vial after vial of blood while I stare at the brightly colored murals painted on the wall. I’ve learned over the years that it hurts less if I can’t see the needle or all that deep red liquid coming out of me. Some vampire I am, huh?

Next, I’m wheeled into the CAT scan room. I want to protest that I can walk there, but to be honest, I’m grateful not to have to. I lie there as still as possible as the lights and sounds of the machine whir around me. I guess I fall asleep, because the next thing I know it’s over and Nurse Jane is telling me it’s time to go back to the exam room.

There, Dr. Fleming and Jane put on these huge magnifying goggles that look like virtual-reality headsets. They proceed to carefully examine every inch of my body, talking in cryptic code the whole time.

“Dysplastic nevus, four millimeters.”

“Congenital nevus, growth noted.”

“Grouping of new lentigines here.”

And so on and so on. I wait and listen, wondering what it all means. Wondering what Charlie is thinking right now. If he hates me for lying to him. If I’ll ever see him again.

And how can I? Dad will never let that happen. Besides, why would Charlie want to see me after the way I betrayed his trust?

It’s over, I conclude. I was lucky to have him while I did. To experience something I never thought I would. Time to go back to being Rapunzel stuck in my room forever. I was a fool to think I could ever go to college and have a long-term relationship like a normal person.

Finally, Dr. Fleming says to me, “Okay, you can sit up now, Katie. I’ll go get your father while you get dressed. Meet me back in my office as soon as you’re ready.”

I pull on my leggings, drag my sweatshirt back over my head, and stuff my feet into my Converse. I trudge down the long hall and sit in the chair in front of Dr. Fleming’s impressively large mahogany desk. My dad is already seated in the chair next to me, staring straight ahead.

“The sunlight exposure was minimal,” Dr. Fleming begins. “The physical effects you’re seeing right now will heal.”

My dad puts his hand on my arm and we smile at each other. Maybe I didn’t ruin everything after all.

“But—”

Dad winces.

My stomach drops.

“As you know, your specific kind of XP generally lies dormant until a triggering event,” she continues. “We won’t know if that’s what this was until we get the results from your blood work and CT scans.”

My dad leans forward in his chair. “And if this was? A triggering event?”

I hold my breath, waiting for Dr. Fleming’s answer.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” she says. “If you notice any symptoms, Katie—unexpected shaking, muscle pain, loss of motor function—you have to promise to tell me immediately.”

I nod. My hands are shaking as we speak. Is that a symptom, or just me being tired and scared? Everything feels like a sign right now.