I yawned, leaning back in the chair, waiting for the nurse to signal I was done.

"Hi."
I turned, surprised. I could count the number of times someone had talked to me in chemo before on one hand. She was slight, pale, her amber-brown eyes wide and vulnerable. I could count the number of times a girl had talked to me in chemo before – it was zero.

"Hello," I replied, meeting her eyes. It was obligatory. And immediately, I looked away. What I had seen in her eyes wasn't the bleak darkness, the inexplicable defeat of most of the other patients. Her eyes were deep and wise, light and cheerful. Still holding onto life, yet not afraid of death. Eyes that had seen the world and embraced it, eyes that had seen death and were not fearful.

These eyes scared me.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the woman sitting near her look up, surprised, presumably her mother. She was beautiful, this I could see – yet, plagued by time and worry, her face was drawn, pale as well.

"What are you here for?" the girl asked, and I refocused my attention on her. I appraised her, wondering whether she was joking. What do you fucking think I'm here for?
I bit back my retort. "The free cocktails."

I saw a smile tug at the corner of her mouth. "Happy hour," she said, as if in response. I felt a grin spread over my face; I'd judged her too quickly.

"Taylor. AML." I said the words quietly, a silent offering. She took them.

"Kate, APL." Jesus. I whistled through my teeth.

"A rarity."

I watched as a slight smile grew on her lips, transforming her face. And she didn't look like just any other cancer patient anymore, she looked…well, normal. Beautiful.

"Aren't we all?" she countered, her eyes alight.

I grinned. I bent closer, looking closer. "Platelets," he acknowledged. "You're in remission." It wasn't a question.

"Today, anyway," she nodded, looking at me. "Chemo?"

"Today, anyway," I winked. I watched her cheeks flush pink, and I bit back a smile. She was a sweet girl, I could tell that much.

"So, Kate. What do you do when you're not at the hospital?"

"Waiting for something to put me back in," she teased, another smile unfurling across her lips.

I laughed for real this time. I like you, Kate.

"Well, maybe we can wait together. Can I have your phone number?" She turned her face up to me, lit with the sunlight and innocence, and maybe, maybe, a bit of hope.

Her mother fumbled with her purse, and I glanced up, startled – I'd forgotten about her. A moment passed in silence as Kate scribbled down her phone number, and handed the paper to me, the back of a receipt. 555-3211. It was thin between my fingers.

"You're outta here, Taylor," the nurse said, and I smiled at her.

"Thanks," I said, and turned back to Kate. "Well, I'll call you, Kate."

She smiled, and I saw what flickered across her eyes – doubt. Well. I exited the room without a second glance, and let my legs carry me down the hall. Leaning back against the whitewashed wall, I pulled out my cellphone and dialed. 555-3211.

"Hello?" She didn't bother to disguise the excitement in her voice, and the vulnerability touched at my heart.

I smiled hard, even though she couldn't see me. "Just making sure it was you."

I walked out the front door, to the waiting car.

"Kate," I whispered into the warm air, testing the word on my tongue. And her name rolled around in my mouth, sweeter and more delicate than spun sugar.