She shifted in her seat. “You are. You might not remember, you’re pretty out of it. I think your meds are giving you vivid nightmares. Maybe night terrors.”

The doctor shook his head. “That isn’t a side effect of—”

“That you know of,” she interrupted.

“The meds don’t—”

“That you know of,” she insisted.

Dr. Levine gave up on Naomi and looked at me. “Mr. Lund, for our appointments to be most productive, I feel next time you should come at a time where you and I can really get together on your health. Together. Without distraction.”

“I’m an advocate, not a distraction. That you don’t see the difference—”

“Dr. Levine? Naomi is my girlfriend, she’s been my caregiver, and she clearly cares about me. I know you won’t disrespect her again.”

The doctor sat back, resigned.

I stood, and Naomi rose with me. I led her out of the doctor’s office by the hand. She was quiet for the first time in an hour as she drove me home, deep in thought. I turned on my phone, and it began to ding with text notifications from my large family like it had been daily since I broke the news about my condition.

I answered in chronological order, from who texted me first to the last, but before I could get to the last five or so, Jenn called.

I answered, immediately putting her on speaker phone.

“Hello, my son,” she said, her voice warm and comforting. “What did the doc say?”

“Not much. Just getting the kinks worked out of the medications.”

“Still having bad dreams?”

“Every night. And apparently, they’re worse than Naomi’s been letting on.”

“Oh?”

“She’s exhausted, Jenn.”

“Stop,” Naomi whispered, lacing her fingers through mine.

“Well, maybe I could come help? Let her get some rest?”

“I’m fine,” Naomi said. “How are you, Jenn?”

“Worried about my boy. Is he okay?”

“He’s getting there,” Naomi said, raising the back of my hand to her lips.

“Glad he has you,” Jenn said. “Zeke, call me later. I mean it.”

“I will,” I said. “Love you.”

“Love you too. So much.”

We hung up, and I sighed, covering my face with my hand.

“What’s up?” Naomi asked.

“She doesn’t mean to, but she makes me feel like I’m dying.”

“That has to be frustrating. Try to remember that she’s just worried and processing in her own way. She wants to be supportive.”

I nodded, itching my nose with my free hand. I stared out the window, feeling my eyes burn.

“Talk,” Naomi said.

“It just sucks,” I said, my voice breaking. “My mom is worried sick, my family is scared, and it’s my fault. Well, not my fault, you know what I mean. And my girlfriend is a fucking superhero, and I’m weak.” I cleared my throat. “Do you know what it’s like not to deserve someone?”