"Every time I catch the smallest cold or flu I get terrified it's going to turn into pneumonia and go straight to my chest. I can't even sneeze or cough without feeling some sort of anxiety. I know other kids play sick to stay home from school, but that was never an option for me. Being sick had real potential consequences."
"Becca, I am so sorry." Nathan's expression was pained. "I can't even imagine how tough it must have been, going through all that for so many years. Never being able to do the things everyone else is doing…" Horror dawned on his face. "Is that why you got sick when we went zorbing? Oh shit, you joked that you couldn't even handle roller coasters. Fuck, I never should have—"
I shook my head, not wanting him to freak out.
"It's okay," I told him. "The zorbing thing was just because I hadn't known what to expect and I got spooked. Luckily, science has outpaced my illness. There are new advances every day. Things have gotten better. I can go outside now, obviously. The only problem I have with roller coasters is that they make me nauseous. And sleepovers are no longer a problem."
I flashed him what I hoped was a flirtatious smile, wanting to lighten the mood. He gave me a weak smile back, before his expression turned somber again.
"But it isn't all over yet," I said, needing him to know the full truth. "Not completely. I still need to go for checkups. I still need to take medicine. And there's always going to be a risk of something going terribly wrong. I have to live with that. And so does everyone else in my life. That's why my parents still worry so much."
"That's why they're so overprotective," he murmured.
Nathan sat back in his chair, his hands drifting from mine to rest on the table. His gaze went unfocused, as if trying to take everything in.
"I'm sorry I never told you," I said. "But everyone always treats me differently when they find out. My first boyfriend broke up with me because of it. I had a scare and needed to go for an echocardiogram. Sometimes they can take twenty minutes, sometimes they can take more than a hour. I'd asked him to come with me. I wanted the support. But he couldn't handle it. It scared him, I think. He didn't want to think about what might happen if something really was wrong."
"But you're okay now, right?" Nathan asked almost desperately.
"I'm… better," I hedged. "I might never be totally okay. My heart is never going to be one hundred percent. But I've gone through procedures to fix some of the problems, and they've been a success."
A relieved looked crossed his face.
"The risk of me dropping dead at any minute is slim to none," I quipped.
The expression on his face was so heartbreaking, I immediately backtracked.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I know a joke or two isn't going to make this any easier."
He sat silently for a minute, his eyes looking off at a point in the distance. I didn't say anything else, just let him absorb everything I'd told him.
I also needed a moment to compose myself. I'd never spoken to anyone in such detail about my life before. Laying it all out there like that made me realize just how unusual my childhood had been. I'd always known my experiences were different from other people's, but now I really understood just how stark that contrast was.
"I know this is a lot to take in," I told him.
He nodded absentmindedly, eyes still glazed over, as if lost in thought.
"And I also understand if this changes things." I tried to keep the disappointment and regret from my voice, tried to sound matter-of-fact, as I shifted to get up and leave. "I can leave you alone to—"
Nathan put a hand on my arm.
"Don't go," he said.
His eyes met mine, clear and bright. I sat back down.
"Thank you for telling me all of this," he said. "I know it must not have been easy."
"It's a bit of a relief to get to tell someone," I told him honestly. "Aside from my parents, no one else really knows what I've gone through. I never wanted anyone to know. I never wanted anyone to treat me differently."
"I get that." Nathan went quiet. Our coffees had long since gone cold. He looked to me. "I promise, I won't treat you any differently because of this."
My heart lifted.
The conversation had gone much better than I'd expected. Nathan had listened patiently, had asked a few questions, and with only minimal freaking out. I'd worried he wouldn't be able to accept something as serious as my condition.
But he had. He hadn't run away.
Maybe I'd been wrong this whole time.
Maybe Nathan was exactly the type of person I could rely on.
