Left Behind

“I know where it is.”

“Their website said you either have to go in person and show ID to request medical records or fill out some forms and get them notarized,” I say.

“Do you have your school ID on you?”

“Yes.”

“So let’s go.”

“But…” I look down at my running gear. “I’m a sweaty mess.”

“You look hot.”

“I am hot. I ran fast and it’s warm out today.”

Zack wiggles his eyebrows. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh.” I blush.

He pulls me close again. “I like you like this.”

“With my hair falling out of my ponytail, face flush and sweat dripping from my body?”

He nods, a dirty grin on his face. “You sweaty and flushed is my favorite look for you. It reminds me of two nights ago in your room.”

The temperature on my already heated face rises. “You have a one track mind.”

“Yep. All Nikki, all the time.”

Zack kisses me again and groans. “Come on, let’s get on the road, or we won’t wind up going anywhere today.”

***

We pass a sign on the highway for North Shore University Hospital and my nerves ratchet up. Zack squeezes the left hand he’s been holding since we started driving.

“You okay?” He glances at me and then back to the road.

It was Zack’s idea to sneak back into the attic and get the name of the hospital so I could try to get my records. He’s been incredible ever since I told him about my sister. Searching online and finding out all about California law. I don’t feel like I’m in this alone anymore. “Thank you for taking me.”

“You don’t have to thank me. We’re in this together.”

We park and walk to the front door hand in hand. I pause a few seconds as the motion activated front door slides open. Zack looks back. “Hey. You okay? We don’t have to do this today if you’re not ready.”

“I know.” I blow out a stream of air. “I’m ready.”

The security guard directs us to the Medical Records Department and we follow a series of hallways until we come to the last turn. Zack squeezes my hand reminding me he is here— each step of the way.

“Do you think this is it?” Zack teases as we arrive at a blue door with a ridiculously huge “Medical Records” sign.

“Maybe.” I smile and try to sound light, but it’s difficult to hide my anxiety.

Zack pulls the door open, holding it for me to walk through first. The rusty hinges squeal a high-pitched creak, catching the attention of the gray haired older woman sitting at one of the desks. Everyone else in the large room ignores us.

“Can I help you?” Her voice is more pleasant than I expected.

I hesitate and Zack jumps in. “Yes, thank you. We’d like to get some medical records.”

“Sure.” She walks to the table of forms next to us. “Fill out this blue one. I’ll also need to make a photocopy of your ID.”

With a shaking hand, I complete the request for medical documents, dig my school identification card from my pocket and hand it to the woman. She smiles and examines it. “You were born in 1996.”

“Yes.” I respond.

“That would make you seventeen still, right?”

“Yes, seventeen. I’ll be eighteen soon.”

“I’m sorry. We can’t release your medical records unless you’re eighteen. Your parents can authorize the release of the records, if you want to have them come in?”

Zack speaks up on my behalf. “Nikki’s parents both passed away. We were hoping to find some information in the file about her sister who was adopted. “

The woman looks at me sadly. “I’m sorry. A guardian perhaps?”

“Aunt Claire?” Zack turns to me and whispers doubtingly.

I return my attention to the woman. “I don’t have anyone who can sign.” Aunt Claire has records from my birth. She obviously knows I have a sister, yet hasn’t said anything. The more time that passes, the more Mom’s warning in her letter seems real. I really hoped the warning was part of her paranoia; Aunt Claire turned out to be pretty great otherwise.

“Have you tried Social Services down at City Hall in Long Beach? They might be able to help.”

The woman is trying to be kind. I force a smile, but fail miserably. “I haven’t had the best experience with social services. I’ll come back when I’m eighteen.”

The woman nods.

“Thank you for your time,” I say.

We’re almost out the door when her voice stops us. “Wait.” She comes to the door and extends her arm to a row of seats. “Give me a minute. I have a friend at Social Services. Let me make a call for you.” She winks and goes back to her desk to use the phone.

A few minutes later she returns and hands me a slip of paper. “Here’s my friend’s name and number. She searched the system and you’re in there. She’s going to have your file pulled. She said it could take a few months to get the files from archives, but she’ll call you when they come in.”

“Thank you for all your help,” Zack says warmly. “It was very nice of you to go out of your way and make that call for us.”

“I hope you find what you’re looking for. If they don’t call, you come back after you turn eighteen and ask for Marcy. I’ll help you sort through the documents to find what you need.”