The Mix-Up by Holly McCulloch

CHAPTER 33

The bobbly gown is on and I’m now lying on a bed at the hospital. I’m grateful that the tests are done behind closed doors. I didn’t even let Sara in the room, but I’m glad; I don’t know if I would be able to hold it together if I also had to concentrate on someone else.

Instead, I’ve been alone with my thoughts and feelings for the last twenty minutes. The one thing this has taught me is that my theory is correct. Life is easier alone. After a lot of contemplation, I have come to understand that Noah is why it is worse this time; I am most upset about Noah.

On the face of it, it sounds stupid, it sounds menial, it sounds pitiful. But it’s not just Noah. It’s Noah and all the things he represents. He represents a future. He represents a life full of living. He represents all the things I had never let myself wish for before. And just when I almost started to wish, the candle has been blown out. I exhale to try and stop the tears from coming. Again.

My boobs have already been felt up once, and now it is time for them to be poked. Despite the extra blanket that the nurse gave me, I am still cold. Hospital gowns provide little in terms of warmth or coverage. I let out a shiver as I hear a confident knock at the door. The doctor enters without me saying a word.

‘Paige! I wondered if it was you.’ Dr Levenson. I recognize her straight away, despite the fact we have both aged a bit. She was the same doctor to take my biopsy last time and she was a regular face on the ward. She even took me to go get ice cream once; it was a nice mood lifter. I wonder how much energy and effort it must take for her to remain upbeat. How sad she must be when she can let it out. She must let it out at some point. At least I hope she does.

Despite the circumstances, I smile at her. ‘It’s nice to see you. It’s good to see a familiar face.’

She cleans her hands and puts on her gloves. ‘Well now, don’t take this the wrong way, but personally I had rather hoped to never see you again.’ Her smile is genuine, but so are her words. After confirming my name and age and feeling the boob (again) to make sure where the lump is, she numbs me with a ‘little pinch’. She then gets out the gel and starts up the ultrasound machine. As she squirts the gel, she warns me, ‘This is going to be a little cold.’ It makes a farting noise as it comes out. Under different circumstances, this is just the kind of thing that would make me laugh. Instead we both remain silent.

After she spreads the gel, she puts the little probe against my boob. She’s squinting at the screen. I don’t know how she can make anything out – it all looks like blurry lines to me. Eventually, after taking some screen shots, she asks, ‘Can you help hold this in place?’ By ‘this’ she means my boob. I nod and let her direct my hand to exactly where she wants it. ‘Perfect, thank you.’ She grabs the needle, and mutters once more for good luck, ‘Another little pinch.’

The needle goes in. I try not to look, but I do. I also try not to look at her face. But again, I do. I try to read it for signs. Cancer signs. They must be able to make a pretty good guess from the scan.

When she is done, I can’t help but ask, ‘How’s it looking? Can you tell anything from what you’ve seen?’

She’s another one with a good poker face.

‘I can’t, but I’ll send the biopsy off right away so you can get the results back as soon as possible.’ This doesn’t sound optimistic. In fact, this sounds the very opposite of optimistic. I kinda wish her poker face could also be applied to her voice. Her choice of words. ‘They should be here a week from today, which I believe is when your follow-up appointment has been booked. I might even see if I can cover it myself.’ Usually, the doctor who takes the sample is different to the doctor who is in charge of your care, but Dr Levenson can get quite involved with her patients. Some say clingy, but I think she is great. She wipes away the gel and gives me another smile. ‘You can get dressed again now.’

I let go of my boob, sit up and start to ready myself. Embarrassingly, despite the cold, I have still sweated into the protective sheet.

Today, I have forgone a bra, but have instead opted for a vest top with added reinforcements and a light jumper to disguise the extra swing that comes from the lack of support. And I’m glad. All the prodding and poking has made my boobs feel a little bruised; having to wear a bra would not help this situation.

My lack of clothes means that by the time I am dressed, Dr Levenson has just finished writing my details on the biopsy tubes.

She smiles at me. ‘Ready to face the world?’ With her there, it’s hard to say no. So instead I nod, and she opens the door.

The corridor is a lot brighter than the room. Dr Levenson turns to me, and points down the corridor. ‘Sara is in the waiting area, just down there.’ I look to where she is pointing and nod, before turning back. ‘It’s nice that you two are still in touch.’ Her smile is so wide. I wonder how she manages it.

I nod, vaguely. ‘Thank you for today. You were very gentle.’

She reaches out and squeezes my arm. ‘You did great. Now go do something fun.’

And with that she is off, down the corridor in the opposite direction. With nothing else to do, I also walk away.

As I near the waiting area, I try to wave and catch Sara’s attention, but she can’t see me. She is being blocked from view by a man in scrubs. I wander over and stand almost side by side with him before I can see her. Her face looks odd, as though she has just been caught stealing. I know this face, as I did once catch her stealing a ginger sweet from my stash when she thought I was sleeping. Her mouth is opening and closing, like she is trying to come up with a good excuse and failing.

‘Sara? Are you OK to leave?’

No words come out, even though her mouth is still moving. Eventually she gestures towards the man in scrubs.

I look up.

I don’t know why I didn’t see this coming.

I should have seen this coming.

‘Noah.’ Of course this would be one of the hospitals he works at, and of course I would bump into him.

Although I am right about life being easier alone, I am wrong about something else.

Noah’s face isn’t full of fear or pity.

His face is worse.

His face is full of devastation.

‘Paige. Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?’

This is a good question, but it is a question I don’t have a good answer to. I also really don’t want to try answering it here, now, like this.

‘Is there somewhere else we could go?’

Noah looks around like he has just woken up from a dream. All the people in the waiting area are looking at us. Some are pretending not to, but I can also see that these same people are only pretending to read their magazines.

He nods. ‘Let’s go to the café.’

The café down the corridor is really just a wider area of corridor. He sits down at a table and I sit opposite. From the corner of my eye I can see Sara hovering. I can tell that she hastily picked up my coat and bag from where she had been guarding them. She looks like she is about to drop everything.

She looks how I feel.

‘Is this why you’ve been ignoring me?’ His body says he is agitated; his leg won’t stop moving. His eyes say he will never be able to look at me without seeing a patient. His face still says devastation. I can’t look at it. I can’t be the reason for that face.

I need to get out of here, and quickly.

‘No.’ I say it with such conviction that even I believe me. The more I lie, the easier it gets.

‘Then what is it?’

He shifts towards me. ‘Let me help you. I can help you.’

‘You don’t get it, I don’t want you to help me. Besides, it could be nothing.’

‘It already isn’t nothing. You must be worried. You must be anxious. I can do something to help.’

I shake my head. ‘Stop it.’

‘Stop what? Caring about you? I can’t.’ He reaches for my hand, but I shift out of the way so he can’t take it.

‘Well, you have to stop. I don’t want you to care about me.’ That much at least is true. ‘That whole thing with Mika thinking you were Michael, do you remember that?’

He nods. ‘Yeah, but what does tha—’

I hold up my hand to stop him talking. It is such a rude gesture, but I am the worst version of myself right now. ‘That night, all I wanted was a quick, entertaining one-night stand. I wanted a Michael. I did not want this. I did not want you. I do not want you.’ I clench my fist to stop it shaking and betraying me.

‘You can’t keep pushing me away, Paige. One day I might not come back.’ He leans towards me. ‘Let me go through this with you.’

And I can see it. I can see him beside me. Helping me. Trying to make me laugh. Letting me choose what we watch, even if I sleep through it. Perfecting his chicken soup recipe. He would do it. He would do it all. But I don’t want him to. I want him to have a life worth living. The pain in his eyes is too much for me to bear. And it will only get worse.

The next words that come out of my mouth are spoken very clearly, and at a slightly louder than acceptable volume. ‘You’re not getting it. I don’t want you to come back. I don’t know how to make this any clearer, so listen. This’ – I gesture between the two of us – ‘was never what I needed. You were never what I wanted. You were only meant to be a one-night stand. That’s all I wanted from you and that is all you are to me. If you think there is something more going on between the two of us that’s your problem not mine. So leave me out of it.’

And then I see it. It isn’t there for long, but I see a flash of resignation and a whole load of hurt, and I know I have finally pushed him far enough away that he won’t come back. This time I am the one to leave. I don’t look at him, I can’t. But my eyes catch a glimpse of him in the periphery. His shoulders are slumped, and his arms hang limp by his side. I hate that I have done this.