Make Amends

Logan smiled when Mr. Brock opened the front door, eyeing up the young girl dressed in a cute summer dress, a Slurpee in her hand.

“Hi, Mr. Brock,” she smiled, overly sweet to compensate for his frown.

“Kennedy is sick,” he said shortly.

“I know, that’s why I brought him this,” she said, holding up the cup, “I’ve never had bronchitis but I know his throat is probably really sore.”

“He’s sleeping.”

“Well, he just texted me, so…” Logan trailed off, her polite attitude slowly wavering with his short responses.

He sighed before opening up the door enough for her to enter. She began making her way to the staircase but stopped before she began her ascend.

“Hey, Mr. Brock?” she turned to face him.

He looked at her, “I’ve really got some work to do.”

“I have a question for you,” she began, “It’ll only take a second.” She only looked at him and she continued, “Why don’t you like me?”

He looked at her strangely, leaning against the wall behind him. He didn’t say a word and she shrugged, “I mean, Kennedy tells me about all these fun times you have had together, but whenever I come around you act like a complete jerk.”

“So that means I don’t like you?” he clarified.

“I’ve been best friends with your son for sixteen years, and you’ve never said more than ten words to me in a single conversation. Did I do something to make you dislike me?” she asked.

He took of his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose with his fingertips, “I don’t respect your relationship with my son.”

“What’s so bad about it?”

He sighed again, obviously not wanting to start a fight. She wondered if she should just stop and forget about it, but now she was curious. “You two are too comfortable with each other. You don’t know enough about the real world.”

“That’s an interesting opinion,” she nodded her head, “But I disagree.”

“Of course you do. You’re too young to understand,” he said.

“So because you think that my relationship isn’t real, you get to treat me like I’m nothing?” she questioned.

“I’ll tell you what, if you and Kennedy can make it past your eighteenth birthday, I’ll admit that I was wrong,” he said.

“So what satisfaction do you get out of the possibility of us not lasting?”

“There is no satisfaction, Logan. It’s not that I want to be right, it’s just that I am,” he said. You and Kennedy aren’t going to get married or make it much past high school, and I’m afraid you’re both wasting your time.”

“You could have just said I wasn’t good enough,” she said, tears choking her voice.

He sighed, feeling a bit guilty, “How is your dad?”

“He’s in remission,” she said shortly.

“You know that his type of leukemia is genetic, right?”

“I just got checked. The doctor’s said I was fine,” Logan said.

“Promise me that you’ll go to your checkups twice a year,” he said, not as stern as usual.

“Well, if it’s up to you I won’t be in your life for much longer, so no promises,” she said rudely before walking up the stairs.

She was annoyed. Kennedy’s dad hadn’t made any effort to get to know her, so who was he to say they wouldn’t last?

But as she walked into Kennedy’s room and saw him smile, she forgot everything Mr. Brock had said.

This would last, the feeling she always had when she saw him would last.

She was determined to prove him wrong.

Logan pressed her hand to her forehead, using it as a visor to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked off onto the green field speckled with white balls and a few flags.

“I honestly didn’t know you were good at golf,” Eric commented.

“Me either…” she said, “You thought you would be able to beat me, huh?”

“Can’t a guy just spend quality time with his best friend?” he asked.

“Why didn’t we just go out to eat or something?” she laughed as she looked at the clubs in her dad’s bag that she had found in the garage.

“I’m trying to promote an active lifestyle, because… well,” he trailed off.

“Because soon we’re not going to be able to do stuff like this,” she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he replied sadly.

She watched Eric swing at the ball, completely missing it.

“I don’t like golf. Give me a basketball, or a baseball bat, or even a damn bowling ball, and I can do it,” he said.

“Let’s just go home, Tiger,” she laughed.

“Want to go get some food?” he asked as he drove.

She shook her head as she tied her hair back in a bun, “I’m not too hungry.”

He sighed, glancing at her, “You’re looking really thin.”

“I’ve only lost like… seven pounds,” she said quietly.

“Well for a girl with no weight to lose it’s pretty obvious,” he said.

“I need to tell Kennedy soon,” she said, reading his mind.

“Do you want me to come with you to your appointment with his dad? Are you nervous?” he asked.

She shrugged, “No, not really. All we’re going to do is figure out my schedule for chemo.”

“But isn’t it awkward for you? He’s not a very personable guy,” Eric said.

“I’ll be fine,” she tried to convince herself.

They pulled up to her apartment and Logan climbed out, “Hey!” Eric protested.

She sighed before leaning back in and hugging him. He kissed her cheek, “You’re not allowed to say goodbye without a hug.”

“I’m not going to die in a day, Halvo,” she laughed.

He shrugged, “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” she said before shutting the door wand watching him drive away.

Logan showered quickly before putting on jean shorts and a loose fitting tank. She wasn’t sure if she was showing too much skin, but then she realized she didn’t care. Although Mr. Brock had tried to help her dad, their relationship was still just extremely uncomfortable.

“Do you need me to come with you?” Garrett asked as she slipped on her sandals by the front door.

“Nope,” she said, smiling tightly, “I’ll be fine. And I’m late. Bye!”

Logan drove to the hospital that she had spent too much time at visiting her father. She pushed the button to go up in the elevator, waiting patiently for the doors to open. Once it did she took a step in, pushing the button to go to the top floor.

Before the doors shut someone called for her to hold them and she caught them just in time. The young man smiled as he entered. He had short brown hair and gorgeous brown eyes, surrounded by long eye lashes. He wore a button up shit with a tie covered by a white lab coat and he was holding a clip board.

“Thanks,” he breathed as the doors closed. The light tones of the elevator music were evident in the background.

“No problem, what floor?” Logan asked.

“Seventeen,” he smiled. Logan pushed the button, smiling to herself when she realized he had a British accent.

“Wow, you’re going up to the big boy’s floor,” he chuckled, “Job interview?”

“Yeah, dressed like this,” she joked, “No, I uh—have an appointment with David Brock.”

“Oh, he was my mentor doctor when I first got here. Good guy,” he said.

“Aren’t you a little young to be a doctor?” she asked.

“I’m secretly a genius,” he whispered.

She nodded her head, “So do you still work under Mr. Brock?”

“Not so much under him, but I usually handle his patients,” he said as the elevators door opened to his floor, “So maybe I’ll be seeing you soon.”

“Possibly,” she smiled before the doors shut, leaving her alone again. She didn’t feel guilty for flirting a little bit with the hot doctor. It boosted her confidence as her knees started to shake in anticipation.

She knocked on the white paneled door that had his name written on it. She heard him mumble for her to enter and she did so slowly, shutting the door quietly.

“Have a seat,” he told her, not looking up from the paper work he was studying.

She did as he said and waited patiently. Her legs were bouncing up and down and she was picking at her nails.

“I could come back later if you wanted me to…” Logan said awkwardly.

He glanced at her briefly before continuing to read for half a minute before taking off his reading glasses and leaning back in his chair.

“So…” he began, “Dr. Stewart is a good friend of mine. I figured he was your doctor when you left for college.”

“You knew for that long?”

“I knew that you wouldn’t get an abortion. You wanted to prove me wrong, remember? And I put it together when your dad started asking questions about doctors in San Diego,” he said.

“Well,” she cleared her throat, “he was never very good at keeping secrets.”

“It didn’t have to be a secret,” he said.

“So you knew when I came to you and asked for help with my dad?”

“I knew you were in remission. I see cancer patients every day, Logan. I know what the signs look like, emotional and physical,” he said.

She nodded her head, “Should we set up my chemo schedule?”

“Yes,” he said, opening up a folder with familiar paperwork in it. The file had her name on it. “If we put the catheter in next week, I can start treatment the week after. You’ll receive doses of drugs consecutively for three days, and you’ll rest for two to three weeks.”

“That’s pretty similar to what I was doing before,” she said, “How can you be sure it will work this time?”

“We can’t. But since you relapsed within twelve months we’re going to try again, starting with induction therapy,” he said.

Chemotherapy for leukemia went in three stages. Induction was first, and was meant to put the patient in remission. Consolidation was to kill all the residual cells, and Maintenance was to keep any new cancer cells from forming.

“So… what if it doesn’t work? Then we talk about stem cell transplant?” she asked.

“We’re going to do a minimum of three cycles, maximum of six,” he said, “Just worry about that for right now.”

“Where will I be receiving the chemo?”

“We’ll have a room set up. You’ll stay hospitalized for the period of time you receive the drugs, and then you’re free to go home,” he said.

Logan nodded her head, leaning back into her chair.

“It’s all becoming real, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “It’s rare, right? To go into remission again after coming out of it.”

“Rare, but not impossible. It’s even rarer that you got the cancer at your age, so maybe that means something,” he said.

“Are you going to be giving me the drugs when I come in?” she asked.

“I don’t work much in the field anymore, but the doctors and nurses in charge of you will be handpicked by me,” he said.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Logan asked. She couldn’t help but remember their limited conversations when she was growing up, or their lack of any kind of relationship.

He stood and walked to his window. It lined the entire length of one side of the room, giving a beautiful view of a park across the street. Kids were playing on the playground and in the water nearby and the two could faintly hear them.

“You know, when you left, Kennedy was a wreck. I wanted to tell him why, I really did. It killed me to see him in so much pain. He said things like ‘you were right, dad’ and ‘I wish I could have seen what you saw’. I realized that he had it all wrong.

“I never thought you weren’t good enough for Kennedy. I told you before, you were too good. But your relationship was so easy, and that’s not how life is. I told you that day that you wouldn’t make it past eighteen, but when it happened, I wished I was wrong.

“He was so hurt. And only part of it was that he lost the chance to have a baby. He was so upset because he lost you. It wasn’t like you to run away, but you did.”

“I ran away to get treatment for the cancer that was killing me,” she said defensively.

“He didn’t know that, Logan. He had no idea because you did not tell him. He could have helped you, you could have done it together.”

“No, we couldn’t have,” she said, standing and looking out the window as well, “You’re proud of your son, aren’t you doctor?”

“Every day,” he replied.

“If I had told him I was sick, he wouldn’t be where he is. If I wasn’t sure I could beat it, I would have told him before I died. I did it to protect him,” she said.

“I understand, Logan, I do. And I appreciate that because I probably would have done the same. It takes a strong person to do what you had to,” he said, finally meeting her eyes.

“It sounds like you’re starting to respect me,” she said softly.

“I started respecting you as an adult when I figured out what you were doing. But Logan?”

“Yes?” she answered as she tentatively studied a picture he had of him and Kennedy on his desk. It looked like they were at a Diamondbacks game. Kennedy had a wide smile and Logan knew why. Mr. Brock was a huge Yankees fan, and the D-backs must have beaten them, evident in his frown.

“When are you going to tell him?”

“I knew that was coming,” she chuckled softly, “Soon.”

He nodded his head, “Just don’t break his heart, again, please. He wants to be there for you. He’s going to feel guilty when he finds out what happened, and soon enough… he is going to need to be there.”