Surge

She walked out before I could bombard her with questions and concerns. It pissed me off that she left after dropping such a bombshell. I didn’t even know what one of the possible problems was about. The other two? Did Drake have diabetes? Or anemia? The former felt like an old person’s disease and the latter something vegan people dealt with. But the doctor didn’t have time for me. There were stab wounds and heart attacks coming into the place. Drake was alive.

I was normally comfortable with silence. But this one was forced. I didn’t know if Drake’s head was hurting. If he was in pain, I didn’t want to make him keep me company. The fact that he didn’t speak either wasn’t a good sign. Surely he had questions about what the doctor had just said, too. Maybe he didn’t want to worry me. I caught myself tapping my foot a few times and attempted to control my breath in hopes of stopping the inner and outer fidgeting.

Ten minutes later, someone came in to take Drake’s blood.

A nurse or phlebotomist or vampire in a costume entered with vials and needles and confirmed Drake’s name and date of birth. As she wrapped a tourniquet around his arm, she said, “I know I shouldn’t say this but… I really love the song ‘Afterglow.’ I follow you on TikTok.” Then she stuck the first needle inside him.

It felt out of place and yet was such a welcome distraction from my morbid thoughts.

Drake’s words were muffled, borderline drunk slur. “Yeah? Thanks. I appreciate you.”

His words allowed me to smile for the first time in all of this. Drake was still kicking inside.

When she left, I sat on the edge of Drake’s bed. He had his eyes closed still. Why couldn’t he rustle up any energy? What the hell was going on with my beautiful man? He slipped away.

Just as I felt a lump in my throat forming, in true Drake fashion, he opened his eyes took my hand and tugged it lightly. “Come lay with me, Fairy. Now that I have you, I never want to be in bed alone.” He smiled.

He could still smile. And I could, too. We were here now. I crawled beside him in the bed, wrapped an arm around him, and tried to be grateful for the sight of his breath raising and lowering my arm. His heart still beat strongly enough for me to feel it on my forearm.

But an hour later, my meditation of gratitude shattered completely.

The doctor returned to say she was keeping Drake in overnight for a blood transfusion.