Symptoms of a Heartbreak by Sona Charaipotra

Author:Sona Charaipotra
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Imprint

* * *

My next stop is a quick visit with Alina, so I grab an extra muffin from the cafeteria on the way out. The cocktail of drugs we’ve got her started on seems to be helping—she looks brighter and more alert, she can breathe, and she’s been gaining weight. Plus, happily, her appetite is back.

She beams at me when I hand her the muffin, peeling the wrapper away and taking a quick nibble as her dad hovers. He gives me a half smile in thanks for the muffin, but stress racks his body: His eyes are bloodshot, his shoulders tense, and he can’t stand still. I know he wants to talk to me about the insurance situation, and I’m trying my best not to bring it up myself. There’s not much I can do at this point, aside from get myself in deeper with Davis. And I have to take care of all my patients, not just Alina, so it would behoove me not to do that. Though the thought of Alina being kicked out of here, just when she’s starting an upswing, it pretty much kills me.

I’m done checking her vitals and am about to draw some blood, when Howard walks in. She’s on second shift today, but I was hoping we wouldn’t overlap. No such luck.

“Hey, hey!” she announces to the room, then huddles in a corner with Mr. Plotkin, whispering for a few minutes. I know I should go download Alina’s information to her right now—because it’s my job—but I don’t know quite what to say after that scene on Friday. Do I act like nothing happened? Do I confront her about it? Either idea makes me sick to my stomach, so I focus on Alina, who’s a pro at blood draws by now. She barely pays attention, nibbling her muffin as she watches The Great British Bake Off on the small screen in front of her.

“That looks yummy,” I say, motioning to the screen with my head.

“It’s a cake made out of layers of crepes,” she says, grinning. “They pump it full of cream. I bet it’s so extravagant, you can only take two bites.”

“I’m gonna be honest: I’d eat the whole thing,” I say, and she laughs.

“Dr. Sehgal, can we see you for a moment?” Howard interrupts, her tone stern, like she’s my teacher and not a fellow intern.

“Yeah, give me one sec,” I say, pulling the needle from Alina’s pale arm as the tube fills with blood. I snap off the tourniquet and slap on a bandage that has Strawberry Shortcake grinning on it. Alina polishes off her muffin, so I grab the wrapper and hand her a napkin. “All set.” She smiles and turns back to her show.

I head to the corner table, where Howard and Mr. Plotkin are conferring over a computer screen. There’s a fund-raising page on the screen—but only two thousand of thirty has been raised so far. Not a great start.

“We’ve got to do better,” Howard says. “Alina doesn’t have much time.

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