If I survived this, I decided, I would make a pretty incredible mortuary cosmetologist. Looking at my reflection, I had managed to paint a mask of life over a body that was trying its hardest to shut down.
"Can I borrow your black swing jacket?" I pleaded, turning to Elisa with my best "pitiful patient" eyes. "All I've got in my closet is my Columbia puffer, and it doesn't exactly scream 'high level corporate briefing.'"
Elisa had always been a couple of sizes larger than me, even before I got sick. She was all healthy curves and athletic grace, while I had dwindled down to almost nothing. But we could still swap coats and accessories in a pinch, not that there was much in my wardrobe of practical basics that she ever wanted to borrow, though she was always sweet enough to pretend otherwise.
"Sure thing," she said, pulling the structured wool jacket from the hall closet. "And you're actually taking a real purse? Not the backpack?"
"Already transferred everything over." I snatched the jacket from her and grabbed my slim leather clutch, waggling it at her like a trophy. It felt light.. too light compared to the heavy textbooks I usually hauled around.
"You'd better head down now, then," Elisa said, glancing at the clock on the microwave. "You're going to be late, and I don't think those people appreciate being kept waiting."
I paused at the door, my hand on the knob. "Don't wait up for me," I warned, knowing full well that she'd be sitting on that sofa with the lamp on until she heard my key in the lock.
She laughed, a bright, familiar sound. "Of course I will. Who else is going to help me wrap my brain around our game theory homework tonight? I need your notes, Amanda."
I smiled back at her, a genuine flicker of warmth hitting my chest, then hurried out the door before the weight of her worry could pull me back in.
The elevator ride down was cramped. A group of sophomores I didn't recognize eyed my professional attire curiously, their conversations about midterms and party plans never missing a beat. On the third floor, the doors slid open and Ethan Galloway stepped in. He was all golden Maryland sunshine, tanned skin, bright eyes, and a messy mop of blonde hair. He'd been in almost all of my economics classes since freshman year.
"Hey, Amanda," he said, treating me to one of his trademark dazzling smiles. He always used my full name because his stepmother was named Ann, and he claimed it freaked him out to use the same name for a girl he actually liked talking to. "Wow. You look a bit dressed up for a Friday night date."
"It's more of a business thing," I said, leaning against the mirrored wall and returning his smile. It felt good to be teased by someone who didn't know the truth.
"An interview?" The doors opened on the ground floor, and the crowd spilled out into the lobby. "Who's even interviewing this late in the semester? If you're holding out on a plum internship, I'm going to be offended." He gave me a patently fake, threatening glare.
"Not an interview," I said as we pushed through the heavy double doors of the building. "I'll tell you about it later, Ethan. I promise."
Like most of the people on campus, he had no idea I was sick. I wondered briefly what kind of story I'd eventually have to tell him if I'd even be around to tell it.
The black limo was already idling at the curb when we stepped out onto the sidewalk, its polished surface reflecting the orange glow of the streetlights. As I approached, the chauffeur stepped out and swung the rear door open with practiced, silent precision. It was such a surreal, cinematic moment that I couldn't resist. I turned back and gave Ethan a jaunty little wave before climbing into the plush interior.
"Oh, snap!" he called out, standing frozen on the concrete with his mouth hanging slightly open. "Amanda! You have got a lot of explaining to do!"
The chauffeur shut the door with that heavy, expensive thud, and I settled back into the fawn leather with Elisa's jacket in my lap. I felt a pang of guilt as the car pulled away. Ethan deserved a bit of teasing, sure, but I had no idea what kind of excuse I was going to give him on Monday. Probably not a very good one, I thought, as the campus lights faded into the distance.