Page 24 of Hiss and Tell
Aspen
Dr. Marshall’s office smells like antiseptic and false promises, just like it did four years ago when she first explained my diagnosis. The prescription bottle rattles softly in my purse as I shift in the waiting room chair, watching other patients doomscroll.
“Aspen Walker?” The nurse’s cheerful voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts.
The routine checkup takes less than ten minutes. Blood pressure good, weight stable, no signs of an outbreak. Dr. Marshall renews my prescription with the same professional kindness she’s shown since the time of my divorce.
“Any changes in your situation?” she asks, making notes in my chart. “New partners, relationship concerns?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Actually, yes. Someone new. I haven’t told him yet.”
Her expression softens. “Take your time. There’s no rush. And remember, with daily suppressive therapy and proper precautions, transmission rates are very low.”
“I know the statistics.” Whoops, the last thing I wanted to do was snap at her. “Sorry. It’s not about the medical facts. It’s about… everything else.”
“The emotional component,” she nods. “I understand. But Aspen, you’ve been managing this successfully for years. Don’t let fear keep you from happiness.”
Walking to my car, white paper prescription bag clutched tight, I think about Sebastian’s gentle hands and patient smile. About the way his snakes dance when he’s happy, how his sanctuary effect makes everything feel possible. About the growing warmth between us that I’m too terrified to let flourish.
My phone buzzes with a text from Milo’s school:Don’t forget! Father-son breakfast is Wednesday.
Right. The breakfast. Milo’s been talking about it for weeks, carefully planning what he’ll tell Derek about his dinosaur projects. The date feels simultaneously too far away and too close. Another chance for Derek to disappoint him.
Unless Derek actually follows through this time.
I send a quick text to Derek to remind him the breakfast is two days from now, and I’m cautiously optimistic when he responds with a thumbs up emoji.
Back home, Milo bounces through the door with his usual enthusiasm, backpack sliding off one shoulder as he races to the kitchen table where I’ve set out his after-school snack.
“Mama! Tyler’s dad is coming to the father-son breakfast! And Jamie’s dad! And everyone’s dads!” His eyes shine with excitement. “Do you think Daddy will remember to bring the camera? He promised to take pictures of me with my presentation board!”
My heart clenches at his unbridled hope. “I’m sure he’ll remember, Bug. What did you decide to include on your board?”
As Milo launches into detailed descriptions of his dinosaur timeline, complete with hand-drawn illustrations and carefully researched facts (courtesy of Google and me), I watch his animated face and make a silent promise. Whatever happens with Derek, whatever complications arise with Sebastian, I will protect this child’s joy.
His enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself genuinely excited about the breakfast too, not just for Milo’s sake, but because Derek finally seems to be stepping up. Maybe he really has changed this time.
“Can we work on my presentation tonight?” Milo asks, bouncing slightly in his chair. “I want to make sure I get everything right about the armor plating!”
“Of course, Bug. We can set up your timeline after dinner, and you can practice on me.”
The prescription bottle in my purse seems to mock me, but I push that worry aside. Tonight is about Milo’s excitement and Derek’s renewed commitment. The other conversation—the one that could complicate everything with Sebastian—can wait a little longer.
Chapter Fifteen
Sebastian
Monday evening, and I’m standing at Aspen’s door with a carefully selected stack of dinosaur books and a heart full of nervous energy. After Saturday’s dinner party success, this feels like the natural next step—spending time with both of them in their space, seeing how we fit together as a… whatever we’re becoming.
As I climb the stairs above the Serenity Wellness Center, my snakes reflect my anxiety, coiling and uncoiling in an uncoordinated dance. The ancient steps creak under my weight, and I have to duck to avoid hitting my head on a low-hanging pipe.
The sound of Milo’s laughter guides me to their door. Taking a deep breath, I knock.
“Mr. Sebastian!” Milo’s excited voice carries through the wood. “Mama, Mr. Sebastian is here!”
Aspen opens the door, and the sight of her in worn jeans and a faded t-shirt with “Aspenly Yours” printed across the front makes my heart do something complicated. “This is a surprise.”
“I, um, have news.” My snakes perk up as Milo bounces near his mother’s hip, Super Steggy clutched in one arm. Despite her crazy-busy schedule, it appears she had time to buy some Superman fabric and sew it to the dino’s shoulders in a good facsimile of a superhero cape. “Good news, actually.”
