She was going to kill her alarm clock. It was beeping so loudly it was probably waking up her neighbors.  She tried to open her eyes but her lids were too heavy, eventually giving up. Why was she so tired? She must have gone to bed late.

She tried again, fighting harder to open her eyes. She opened them half way but her vision was blurry, she only saw the white of the walls. She blinked, opening her eyes wider this time. This wasn’t her bedroom. Where the hell was she?  She racked her brain, her heart racing when nothing came to her. She looked around the room and carefully eyed the machine on her right and the IV line on her left. She looked closer at the items in the room. She was in a hospital.

She felt someone touch her arm.

“Kenya? Sweetheart you need to calm down. My name is Julia and I’m your nurse. You’re in the hospital. I need you to calm down; your heart rate is too high. Take some deep breaths for me.”

Not knowing what else to do, Kenya obeyed.

“Good. Keep taking deep breaths, we don’t want your heart rate shooting through the roof again.”

Again? How long had she been there? Kenya tried to speak but her throat was so dry she only managed a croak. Nurse Julia grabbed the water on the table and put the straw to her lips. She took a long drink, stopping when her throat no longer felt like sand paper.

“What happened? Why am I here?”

Nurse Julia patted her hand.

“Dr. Neumeister is on his way and he will explain everything to you. I’ll let him know you’re awake.”

Way to avoid the question lady, Kenya thought. Her last memory was of the linebacker punching her at school and Tristan giving her a ride home, everything was blank after that. Kenya hated hospitals, there were too many people, most of them miserable. The smell of the room was making her nauseous.

Nurse Julia walked in, followed by a dude who closely resembled Mr. Rogers.

“Hello Kenya, I’m Dr. Neumeister. I’m glad you’re awake, we were starting to get worried. How do you feel?”

Kenya’s mind was racing with questions. How long was she out for?

“I feel ok, my memory is fuzzy though. What happened to me? How long have I been here?”

Mr. Rogers grabbed a stool and took a seat next to her. He was dressed like a typical doctor, white coat, white shirt, khakis and tennis shoes.

“You collapsed at your job and during the ambulance ride your heart stopped for 2 minutes. Derrick Richards is the name of the paramedic that kept working on you when most would have given up. You died in that ambulance. He brought you back. You’ve been out for three days.”

Kenya’s mouth dropped. Holy shit. She couldn't remember any of it.

“Your heart failed because you have scarring in your left ventricle.  When did you have a heart attack?”

Kenya nervously licked her lips. Dr. Neumeister seemed almost disappointed in her, like he knew she didn’t see a doctor when she had a heart attack.

“About two years ago.”

“I don’t think you realize what kind of danger you put yourself in by not going to an emergency room. If you had gone, they would have caught this before it almost killed you. Most teenagers don’t have heart attacks and heart failure. Did you ever have any serious illnesses as a child?”

“I had Malaria when I was 8 in Kenya,” she responded.

“That explains a lot. The malaria damaged your heart and caused scarring. The scarred area of your heart became thin and bulged out with every beat. This is what we call an aneurysm. The aneurysm, along with some other damage, makes your heart work harder to pump blood through your body. At first your heart was able to handle it just fine and you went about your business. But as time went by your left ventricle became larger than normal and isn’t pumping as effectively as it should.”

Kenya’s stomach dipped. Was there good news in this speech of his?

“The damage isn’t so severe that we can’t fix it. You’re too sick and too weak right now to handle the surgery so we’ll schedule for two weeks. That should give you enough time to recover. I’ve been meaning to ask. Where the hell are your parents?”

Kenya almost smiled. He seemed outraged on her behalf.

“I live on my own. I was emancipated a few  months ago.”

Mr. Rogers grunted, clearly disapproving of her answer.

“I’m discharging you in three hours, call someone to pick you up.”

“I’ll just call a cab,” Kenya responded.

“No, you won’t. I’m sure there is someone you know that will be willing to pick you up. Young lady, I don’t think you realize the seriousness of your condition. If you hadn’t collapsed at work, it would have only been a matter of time before you died from that aneurysm. Call someone. I’ll leave you with Nurse Julia while I go schedule your surgery and put in your discharge papers.”

Kenya watched him leave, feeling ashamed of herself.

“The phone is right there sweetie. I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

Kenya picked up the phone. She’d stared at Tristan’s number for so long the digits were permanently etched in her brain. Dialing, she nervously waited for him to pick up.

********************************

Tristan lounged on his bed, flipping through various channels. He was bored out of his mind but hanging out with his friends wasn’t appealing at the moment. After practice he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had dinner with his mom before she went out with a friend, his dad was gone again. He hated seeing his mom sad, he remembered when the both his parents used to have so much fun. Now it seemed like they were constantly at each other’s throats.

He was tired and even though he needed to sleep, his mind wouldn’t shut off. He’d tossed and turned the night before, barely making it to school today. He didn’t like to think about the reason why he was so preoccupied but he was honest with himself enough to admit that he was worried about Kenya. He hadn’t seen her since he dropped her off Monday. That was three days ago. She didn’t strike him as the type of girl that would ditch school just for the hell of it. She’d taken a bad punch, he wasn’t sure if she was okay. He’d driven by her place but there was no sign of her.

Tristan didn’t even know why he was so worried about her. They weren’t buddies, they didn’t know each other. She wasn’t interested in him, flat out told him to leave her alone. Closing his eyes, he thought of his last conversation with her. He couldn’t believe how much he liked her considering how non receptive she was. Most of the girls his age had nothing to offer except sex, which he was fine with until he met Kenya. When she wasn’t being all up in arms, Kenya was sweet, smart as hell, and beautiful. She was the kind of girl you could bring home to your mom. Nothing was fake about her and it was refreshing.

Geez, he needed to get a grip. The girl wasn’t giving him the time of day and he was half way in love with her.  His phone vibrated next to him. Without looking at the caller ID, he answered.

“Talk to me.”

Silence. He could hear someone breathing and what sounded like beeping in the background.

“Hello?” he repeated.

“Hi…uh…Tristan?”

Who the hell?

“Yes, this is Tristan. Who’s this?”

Pause.

“Hi, Tristan. This is…Kenya.”

He sat up on his bed.

“Oh, hey Kenya. Um…what’s up?”

What’s up? He sounded like such a douche.

“Not much…listen I need a favor. I know we’re not friends and you’re probably busy but I really need your help.”

Her voice sounded so small and weak.

“No worries. What do you need?”

“Um…I need to be picked up at Mount Sinai in about 2 hours.”

What the hell was she doing in the hospital?

“Uh…yeah. I can do that. What are you doing in the hospital?”

Pause.

“Kenya?”

“Sorry, Tristan. I’m a little drowsy. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”

“Sure. I’ll see you in 2 hours.”

“Thanks Tristan.”

He liked hearing her say his name.

“You’re welcome, Kenya.”

Tristan stared at his phone after she hung up. He’d been waiting all week for her to call him but not under these circumstances.

************************************

Tristan walked onto the 5th floor, surprised by how calm the setting was. It was painted green, blue, white, and yellow with various chairs and couches in the waiting area for family members. He looked around at all the sad and worried faces. He hoped Kenya was okay.

“Can I help you young man?”

Tristan snapped out of his thoughts and smiled at the older woman behind the desk. She was thin with gray hair and what his friends called “old lady clothes”.

“Yes, I’m here to pick up a friend of mine. Kenya Nomenyo,” he said.

She typed Kenya’s name into the computer.

“It looks like she’s already been discharged. They should be bringing her out soon. Have a seat, she’ll be right out.”

Tristan nodded his thanks. He went to sit in the chair in the corner when he caught a glimpse of Kenya as she walked down the hall. There was a short Asian nurse by her side who was gently helping her along. Even from a distance he could tell something was wrong. Her face looked worn out, her eyes not as sparkly. There was no attitude or pep to her step. She looked…broken. He fought the urge to run to her side and help her. He’d never seen anyone look that fragile.

“Here we are Kenya. Remember to come back for your appointment next Thursday so we can go over everything again, okay.”

Kenya nodded.

“Alright. Remember what we said. No working, no strenuous activities, eat good balanced meals, sleep at least 9 hours, and call us if you’re having anymore chest pain.”

“Got it Nurse Julia. Thanks,” Kenya said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

The nurse smiled at Tristan before walking back down the hall. Kenya was wearing the same clothes she had on Monday. Had she been here that long?

Instead of questioning her, he smiled. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am. You’ll have to help me walk or else I’ll fall over. That would be bad,” she said with a quirk of her lips.

He chuckled. “Well, at least you’d get immediate medical care,” he responded.

He gently put his arm around her and helped her into the elevator. When they got to the lobby he sat her down on one of the benches while he retrieved his car. After making sure she was comfortable he headed towards her place.

“Are you okay?” He noticed how she kept going in and out of consciousness. “It’s not too late to go back to the hospital.”

“Please don’t take me back there. They mean well and they saved my life but I can’t stand that place.”

Tristan nodded in understanding. He’d never been hospitalized before but he could only imagine how relying on other people would affect him.

“What happened Kenya? When I dropped you off, you seemed fine.”

She tightly closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.

“It wasn’t because of the hit. I have a heart condition that I didn’t know about. I collapsed at work.”

There was no emotion in her voice as if she was trying to detach herself from what happened.

“Are your parents on vacation or something? Is that why they couldn’t come get you?”

She winced at the question but didn’t answer for a few minutes. Was it something he said? Her parents must be a sore spot for her.

“I don’t live with my parents. It’s a long story.”

It must be one hell of a story, he thought. Most 17 year olds didn’t live on their own without a damn good reason. When they arrived, he parked in the back where her apartment was designated a parking spot. He wanted to make sure she was settled before he went home.

She stepped out of the car and waivered, almost losing her balance. Instead of helping her along, Tristan picked her up, ignoring her protests. Thankfully, the door to the building was propped open. He gently set her on her feet and unlocked the door. After helping her inside and sitting her down on the sole coach in the living room, he looked around her small apartment.

It wasn’t bad, kind of cozy, and really tiny. The walls were bare except for a few photos of the beach. She had a black lamp in the corner and a brown coach in the center of the room. There wasn’t a TV, a phone, a radio, or any form of entertainment for that matter. It was very clean but there was something impersonal about it. There were no photos of her, her family, or friends.

“Thank you for helping me Tristan. It means a lot,” Kenya said breaking through his thoughts.

She was half asleep on the coach and he had to smile.

“You should get some sleep Kenya. Doctor’s orders,” he said with a grin. She rolled her eyes and he laughed.

He helped her get off the coach, steadying her when she swayed again. It was a short walk to her bedroom. As he helped her get settled he was once again struck by how little she had. His room was probably bigger than her entire apartment. He had so much stuff he barely knew what to do with it. Her bedroom was worse than her living room. The four white walls were bare; she only had a mattress and a few sheets which made up her bed. There was a backpack, a small closet in the corner and another black lamp but that was it.

What kind of parents let their teenage daughter live in a place like this by herself? He took a deep breath and calmed his racing heart. No need to get pissed off at people that weren’t there.

“Thanks again, Tristan.” Her small voice squeezed at his heart.

There was no one here to protect her or look out for her. She was all alone in this bare apartment. To top it all off she was sick with no one to take care of her. Tristan watched her sleep for a few moments. No matter how hard she pushed or how much she refused, he was going to take care of her.

Then maybe, just maybe, one day she’ll trust him with her story.