Charting. Charting. Charting.

Ugh. One of the least favorite parts of my job, although one of the most necessary. It was two weeks after my first date with Binyamin — we’d gone out three times since — and I was updating 40-year-old Will Sampson’s records. A notification popped up on the system.

New Admission: Room 241.

A new admission. We hadn’t had one in a few weeks. I clicked on the order to see the patient information.

Name: Cassie Evans

DOB: 03/26/1997

Diagnosis: Acute myeloid leukemia (AML)

I sucked in a breath. Poor Cassie. We’d had many types of AML admissions over the years — we were a cancer ward, after all — but she was young, barely 28.

I read on. Maddy, age five, was listed as next of kin. No emergency contacts. So she was a single mom. My heart contracted.

After reading through the treatment plan, I sat back. It was a lot to digest. Well, I’d wait to see what the attending physician thought before starting anything.

Dr. Raffay got straight to the point, as he always did.

“Listen, Cassie’s not doing great,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She came late in the game and the AML is showing signs of metastasizing to the liver. Right now, she’s on fluids and basic supportive care, but I want to move to something more aggressive.” He blew out a heavy breath. “Unfortunately, she refuses to consent to treatment. Says she doesn’t want her daughter to see her like that.”

“But if it’s spreading already….”

“I know.” Dr. Raffay’s lips twisted. “I was hoping you’d have more luck in getting through to her.”

I nodded, jaw setting. “Got it. I’ll do my best.”

After finishing with our check-in, I looped my stethoscope over my shoulders and set off down the hallway.

One of the passing nurses, Emma, gave me a look as I reached Room 241.

“Good luck in there,” she muttered.

Not the most encouraging comment before meeting a new patient, but I’d handled worse.

I knocked and entered.

Cassie looked up as I came in. She was small, almost frail, dwarfed entirely by the hospital bed. Her thin shoulders were hunched and weary, strands of hair falling loose from her ponytail, but her gaze was unflinching.

Beside her, on the window seat, sat a tiny blonde girl — Maddy, I assumed — clutching a faded stuffed parrot and watching me with wide blue eyes. Poor kid. Wasn’t there a babysitter or neighbor who could watch her?

I made a mental note to speak to the hospital social worker and then took a deep breath, channeling my inner perkiness. “Hi, I’m Bayla, the PA on this floor. How are we all doing today?”

Cassie said nothing, raising her chin defiantly.

Okay, then. Time for a new tactic.

“Hey there, cutie!” I smiled at Maddy. “I like your parrot. Did you know birds are my favorite animals?”

The little girl dared a matching grin of her own, peeking up at me through her bangs.

Cassie gave a slight cough; I turned back to her.

“I know the doctor’s already spoken to you,” I said, meeting Cassie’s cutting gaze with a calm smile. “But I want to hear how you’re feeling about all this.”

Cassie’s jaw clenched. “I’m feeling like I don’t need a parade of people telling me I’m dying.”

Yikes. Emma wasn’t kidding. I kept the smile on. “I’m not here to scare you. Just to talk about what you need.”

“I need to not be poked and prodded,” she said sharply. “I wouldn’t have even come in if some busybody neighbor hadn’t called an ambulance on me.”

I sucked in a breath through my teeth. “I… hear. Well, you’re here now and it’s important that—”

“Don’t give me that garbage,” she snapped. “I know what chemo does. I watched my mother waste away from it. And for what? She still died, in pain. I won’t make Maddy watch that.”

I bit my lip. She wasn’t blind. She was terrified. Terrified of what treatment might do to her body, her life, her daughter. She was just trying to protect herself and Maddy the only way she knew how. To her, it didn’t matter that AML was treatable. Fear like that could be just as lethal as the disease.

This was not going to be any kind of easy.

But Cassie needed me. She was another Ruchie — misguided, helpless, alone. And, I hoped, another Ruchie I’d be able to save. I couldn’t let her down.

“And so, what happened?” Binyamin’s eyes were wide.

It was our fifth date (which meant nothing, I thought firmly, even if it had been years since I’d made it to five dates with anybody) and we were strolling in the local botanical gardens. I’d told him about Cassie, without identifying details.

I sighed. “She won’t budge. I’ve been speaking to her every time I see her, trying to explain how serious her condition is, but it’s been a no-go. I don’t know… she’s so sick and she won’t let us help.”

It was a miracle she was still in the hospital. Dr. Raffay had exerted all his influence to keep her there, insisting that it wasn’t safe for her to be discharged in her condition, but it was only after the hospital social worker had placed Maddy with a neighbor that Cassie had agreed to stay.

Binyamin hmmed. “Sounds like a tough situation. She really won’t listen to you?”

I really liked how he listened. Most of the guys I’d dated had offered lukewarm “Mm-hmm”s to my stories, never too interested in the intricacies of my profession. But Binyamin… there was something different about him.

“No.” I pursed my lips, looking straight ahead.

The sound of rushing water hit our ears as we walked on. We were approaching the waterfall garden. It was my favorite part of the botanical gardens. Full of clear, sparkling waters, fresh greenery bursting to life along the stone-laid path; it was the stuff of fairy tales, reminiscent of thatched cottages tucked away in the woods.

I drew in a deep breath of beautiful, clean air. Ahhh.

“You like this?” Binyamin’s eyes crinkled.

“Yeah.” I grinned, sheepishly. “I love the waterfalls, the freshness, all of it. Well — I love nature in general.”

“Aha. Unfortunately, the extent of my nature exposure is watching deer from my office window.”

I laughed. “Not much, huh? Maybe take up birdwatching.”

“That’s an idea.” He winked at me. “Sounds like you have personal experience.”

“Kind of.” I hesitated for a moment. And then, just like the gush of water up ahead, the words cascaded from my mouth. “Actually… birds are my favorite type of animal. They’re fragile and small, up against so many things. But they just keep going… ”

I trailed off, cheeks reddening. Binyamin must think I’m  nuts, raving like that about birds. He was totally going to give me a weird look. Or take me home early. Omigosh, what had I done?

The nearby waterfall, once so beautiful, seemed to dull, its crystalline surface fading. The most promising shidduch I’d had in years — and I’d made myself sound like some nature-loving nut.But when I looked back at Binyamin, he hadn’t blinked. He was nodding.

My heart beat a crazy, wild dance in my throat.

“Yeah, I get you.” He tilted his head. “Crazy how they’re so small, but they don’t give up.”

When I looked again, the waterfall was glowing with rainbows.

ON Monday, I came home after the 7 a.m.–3 p.m. shift, wiped. I was out of it all afternoon, and when I sat down for an early supper, I could barely keep my eyes open. My head hurt. Everything hurt.

It’d been a long day. Jenna’s numbers had spiked, Will’s latest round of chemo had left him vomiting uncontrollably, and Cassie….

A sigh escaped my throat, mingling with steam from my soup bowl.

“Gosh, Bay, you look like you’ve been through a war,” said my tenth-grade sister, Henny, from across the kitchen table.

“Thanks, I really needed to hear that.”

She grimaced. “Hard day?”

“The worst.”

I’d spoken with Cassie today again, with every ounce of strength and patience I had. She wouldn’t cave. And meanwhile…

I stared into my soup bowl, wishing it held answers for me.

Meanwhile, Cassie’s hospital gown was growing baggier by the day, Maddy’s faded parrot haunting my dreams. I was running out of options, and the weight of responsibility lay heavily on my shoulders. Cassie was my patient, under my watch. I couldn’t allow her to waste away like this, caught in her own misguided defiance.

“Well, you’d better put some makeup on fast,” said Henny, breaking into my thoughts. She waggled her eyebrows. “Don’t want Mr. Perfect to see you like this, hmm?”

All thoughts of Cassie vanished. Heat rose in my cheeks. “Henny…” I began, threateningly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let him know you were born flawless.” She dimpled. “Except for that time when—”

“I think you should start getting ready now, Bayla,” said Ma loudly from the sink. “He’s picking you up at six.”

“Good idea,” I said, backing out of the kitchen.

It was our sixth date tonight — something in my chest fluttered at the thought — and Binyamin had sent a message that it would be outdoors.

I had no idea what to wear.

After 20 minutes of frantic deliberation, I settled on a simple but classy set I’d found at a sale a few months before. I’d never worn it yet and somehow, it seemed appropriate for it to make its debut appearance tonight.

Once he picked me up, my jitters fell away. Conversation flowed between us, easy and effortless, and after a short drive, we pulled up to a nature reserve. The sign said dawn to dusk, so we’d have a good two hours here.

“I know we already did a nature thing last time,” Binyamin said, his cheeks going slightly red. “But I remembered you liked the waterfalls, and there’s a nice one here. I, um, figured you’d like it.”

Something warm exploded in my chest. “Oh, wow. Uh, thanks.”

We got out of the car and Binyamin checked the map in front. “Okay, looks like we go this way. Ready?”

“Ready!”

The path wound through the trees. As we walked, brief snatches of birdsong echoed around us, sunrays rippling through the swaying leaves.

“I see why you like nature,” Binyamin said, breaking the silence. His face was lifted to the blue skies above, sunshine playing across his cheeks. “It’s so peaceful here.”

“You can say that again,” I murmured. A faint rustle in the trees caught my attention, a flash of something quick and bright. A bird. The suddenness of it made me stumble over a stray tree branch. For a moment, it looked just like Maddy’s stuffed parrot.

“Everything okay?” Binyamin’s voice was a little too casual. But I saw the way his gaze followed mine.

“It’s nothing,” I said, my ribs tight. “Just a bird.”

He glanced at me, expression unreadable. A long moment passed, filled only with the soft rustling of leaves.

“You’re thinking about something,” he said finally.

I hesitated before answering. “Yeah. But it doesn’t matter.” I forced a smile. “Let’s keep going.”

Binyamin didn’t follow immediately. When he finally fell into step beside me, he said only, “Let’s go to the waterfall. We can talk more there.”

It took seven minutes of brisk walking to reach it.

“Wow,” I breathed, halting in my tracks. Clear water tumbled off a precipice, catching the late afternoon sunlight in a breathtaking display of gold and rainbows. I inhaled the heady scent of earth and rain. Mist plumed from the river below, wisping upward in a gossamer veil.

When I finally tore my gaze from the falls, I saw Binyamin watching me, lips twitching in a smile. “You like it?”

“I love it.”

We sat on a pair of stone benches facing the falls. Binyamin spoke first.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

I didn’t ask what he meant. “Yeah. It’s just… whatever. I wish I could get her to see sense. It’s her life.” I took in a breath. “And she’s my responsibility.”

Binyamin looked at the waterfall for a long moment. Then he said, “I had this cousin once. We were best friends growing up, but then he hit this rough patch in yeshivah. He was always in trouble, always pushing people away. I guess it was his way of testing us, seeing who would stay. And eventually… no one did.”

He looked at his hands.

“I tried for a while. Invited him over, called him, tried to keep him in the loop. And it worked, a little. But then—” Binyamin swallowed, hard. “He got himself hooked on drugs. Serious stuff. I stuck around for a bit, but he didn’t want help. Eventually, I… I let it go.”

He glanced at me, as if gauging my reaction.

“So I guess what I mean is… sometimes, you have to stop fighting. Sometimes people don’t want to be saved. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

My stomach knotted. Part of me understood what he meant, what he was trying to say. But another, deeper part of me recoiled.

“But what if they can’t fight for themselves?” I said finally. “What if they’re hoping someone won’t walk away?”

Binyamin bit his lip. “I hear. I don’t know. I guess I just… learned to recognize when someone doesn’t want to be helped.”

My shoulders were taut. I kept my eyes on the falls. They tumbled on, indifferent to my roiling emotions. I looked at Binyamin, at the thoughtful set of his mouth, his earnest eyes.

He wasn’t being cruel. He was being honest.

And yet… the unease remained.

I was someone who never gave up on others. Especially not those I cared about. Could I spend the rest of my life with someone who was okay with quitting? And… if he gave up on someone he cared about once, who’s to say he wouldn’t do it again?

A heavy weight settled on my heart. “Yeah,” I said eventually. “It’s complicated.”

He gave a small nod. “It is.”

But I didn’t feel better.

When I got home later, Ma was waiting, her eyes bright.

“How’d it go, sweetie?” A smile pulled at her lips.

I didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes dimmed, smile fading. “Bay? What’s going on? Did you have a nice time?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. I just… need some space.”

“Of course.” My mother moved aside, squeezing my shoulder. But I noticed how hers had slumped.

I went up to my room, slid onto my bed, and stared at the wall. What to do, what to say?

I ran through the date again, the nature reserve, the restaurant in the city he’d taken me to afterward. Really, it had gone well. Binyamin was so considerate, so thoughtful. So good. And yet…

His story about his cousin churned in my stomach. He wasn’t wrong. But it didn’t sit right with me. Addicts couldn’t heal on their own. They needed support, someone who’d stick with them through it all. And Binyamin had given up.

My fingers tightened around a pillow. Could I really marry someone who was willing to walk away from those who needed him? Who thought that it was okay to just… let go?

My phone buzzed. Probably Mrs. Goldwasser, with something perky like Binyamin had a great time, are you available Wednesday?

I ran a hand through my hair, dragging out a long breath. I had no idea what to say. Not yet. Maybe a long, hot shower would ease my mind.

Spoiler alert: It didn’t.

A half-hour later, I was back on my bed, wet hair pulled into a ponytail, my heart more twisted than ever. I picked up my phone and stared at the screen.

Help. What to say?

Finally, I typed: I really enjoyed tonight, but I need to think things over. Can I have some time?

It took ten seconds to deliberate, one to send.

When it was done, I fell against my pillows. But instead of relief, all I felt was a blank emptiness.

The next few days were witness to one of the most epic battles known to mankind. They took place in my heart.

To the world, nothing had changed. I still made my rounds, still sat beside patients’ beds with careful explanations. But inside I was hollow, like a doll in a storefront window: painted smile, polished shoes, and not a thought behind the glassy eyes.

I stabbed a pen against a sticky note, ink bleeding from the tip like a wound. I was supposed to be approving the changes to Will’s treatment plan, but, as always, Binyamin’s face loomed.

Around me, nurses talked, monitors beeped, sneakers squeaked, everyone moving with purpose. Only I was unmoored.

I stared at my pen. I was being ridiculous. Why did I care so much about this dumb cousin story? Did it really matter?

Yes.

Because it wasn’t just a story. It was a crack in the foundation I stood for.

Cassie rose to mind and my fingers tightened around the pen. She wasn’t blind; she knew her condition was deteriorating. But the shadow of her mother’s fate lingered too close, overshadowing her reason. What would it take for her to see that refusing help wasn’t bravery? That her choice was hurting Maddy most of all?

I pressed my lips together. Her AML was progressing rapidly, as it always did when left untreated. And unless Cassie faced reality this week, it would be too late.

I’d tried everything. And nothing, still nothing.

The fire inside dimmed to embers, a few pitiful sparks. I dropped my head to my hands, eyes stinging. I was officially a failure. I couldn’t save my patients. Couldn’t get myself married. Couldn’t even check over Will’s dumb chart.

I let a tear slip out, let the rare wave of self-pity wash over me.

“Hey, Bayla?”

I looked up. Morgan, one of the nurses, was coming over.

“Hi.” I swiped beneath my eyes. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Cassie,” she said, quietly. “Her white blood cell count keeps spiking, and she’s been running a high fever since last night. I know you and Dr. Raffay have been trying to get her to see sense, but… I think you need to try again. She might be ready to listen.”

There were many things PA school had prepared us for, but this… it wasn’t one of them. I took a deep breath. As much as I cared for Cassie, as much as I couldn’t imagine facing her again, I needed to remember I was a healthcare professional first. This was my job. I would do it well.

“Got it.” I stood. “I’ll go there now.”

“Good luck.” Morgan was sober. “You’ll need it.”

I headed down the hallway, nerves fluttering in my stomach. What to do, what to say? Could I really change Cassie’s mind?

Almost instinctively, my mind flitted back to his words during “The Conversation”: I just… learned to recognize when someone doesn’t want to be helped.

My lips thinned. He was wrong. Cassie wanted to be helped. She needed me to stick up for her, to guide her in the right direction.

Right, because that had been working out so well. Whenever I walked into Room 241 these days, Cassie looked at me like she wanted to strangle me.

Sometimes people don’t want to be saved.

My sneakers squeaked against the waxed linoleum, Maddy’s huge eyes pushing me onward. But Cassie wanted to be saved. It was her own childhood fear, her own choking love for Maddy that was blocking the way. Right?

Sometimes… you have to stop fighting.

A glint of calm green eyes in my mind. Had I been too fiery for Cassie, pushing her into a corner when she needed to feel ready for the decision? Spewing hard facts and truth when she wanted empathy?

Morgan’s words: “She might be ready to listen.”

Listen.

Maybe Cassie didn’t need me to fight for her. Maybe she needed me to listen. To calm her down. To stop… fighting.

I took a deep breath.

Maybe… Binyamin hadn’t gotten it all wrong.

I reached Room 241. Oh man. My knees were all wobbly. I whispered a fervent perek of Tehillim, and then exhaled, long and shaky. It was go time.

When I entered, I saw Cassie curled toward the wall in the fetal position, her face damp with sweat. Maddy was on the windowsill, hugging her faded parrot. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed today. Maybe not yesterday either.

I moved closer, careful not to startle Cassie. Her breathing was shallow, uneven. I sat beside her bed and waited. After a moment, her eyes opened a sliver.

“Water?” I offered.

She seemed not to have heard me. “I told them not to bring Maddy,” she said, hoarsely. “She shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

Privately, I agreed — who on earth thought it was a good idea to bring Maddy now? — but I just said, “I think she’d rather be here with you.”

Silence stretched between us. I could see Cassie trembling under the covers, her body losing ground against the sickness in her blood. And at once, the words came.

“I know you’re scared,” I said, softly. “I would be, too.”

Cassie closed her eyes. “You’ll never understand.”

“I know,” I said, quietly. “But I can imagine it’s terrifying. Going through this alone. Remembering your mother going the same way.”

Her eyes were open now, watching me. Not defiant. Still wary. But listening.

“You’re probably thinking about Maddy,” I said quietly. “About her future. But the thing is… that future’s already here.”

Cassie’s lip trembled. She didn’t answer.

I took in a breath. “I’m not here to convince you. I respect your choice. I just wanted you to know that if you choose to fight, we’ll fight with you. Every step.”

Silence.

And then Cassie closed her eyes again. “Thank you.”

I sat there for another few moments, waiting, but Cassie’s breathing slowed, chest gently rising and falling. She’d fallen asleep. I took a breath and rose to my feet, sending a quick smile toward Maddy. I’d done all I could.

The scent of fresh garlic knots and pasta greeted me as I came home later that night, too drained for words. I changed out of my scrubs and headed downstairs, stomach growling.

“Welcome home, Bay!” Ma gave me a quick hug and ushered me to the table. “Sit, sheifeleh, you look exhausted.”

Henny was complaining about something to everyone — finals, maybe? — but when I sat down, she stopped. “Bayla! Ma just got a call about you.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

Henny gave a slow, sly grin. “Yeah, I—”

“Was supposed to be studying for finals,” said Ma, giving her a look as she sat down, “not listening in on my conversations. But yes, Bayla, Mrs. Koenig called with an idea for you.”

My chest hurt. I was so not ready for this. “But I didn’t give an answer yet for… for Rosenfeld.”

“I know.” Ma raised her eyebrows at my sister. “Which is why I wasn’t going to tell you about it.”

Henny flushed.

“I’m not going to look into it,” said Ma, watching me carefully. “Not until you make your decision. From what Mrs. Koenig said, though, this boy sounds like a catch.”

A catch that’s not Binyamin.

I pushed away my plate, my appetite gone. “’Kay. Thanks, Ma, everything was great. I’m going to go upstairs now, I’m exhausted.”

And I left before anyone could protest.

Life must go on, even if you wake up late. Even if your favorite sister takes a half hour for her morning shower. And even if the guy you’ve been deliberating about haunts your dreams.

When I finally walked onto the floor that morning, my head was pounding and visions of coffee cups danced in my mind. It took two French vanillas before I was able to think about rounds.

The morning went by fast, a blur of questions, answers and medicine adjustments. And then I was standing in front of Room 241.

I tapped lightly on the door and entered. Thankfully, Maddy wasn’t there today. The shades were open, early afternoon sunlight flooding the room and winking off Cassie’s blonde hair. She was up today, more alert than usual.

“Hey there, Cassie!” I smiled at her. “Good morning.”

She gave a half-hearted smile in return.

“Mind if I take a listen?” I indicated my stethoscope, and she nodded.

I pressed the chest piece against her heart and concentrated. Lub-dub, lub-dub. Good.

I moved behind her. “All right, deep breaths through your mouth.” I listened again. All good. But before I could speak, Cassie did.

“I thought about what you said yesterday.” Her voice was raspy.

My fingers tightened around the stethoscope.

“And I realized….” She cleared her throat and started again. “I always told myself I was protecting Maddy. Watching my mom go through chemo… it broke me. I thought this way, at least, I’d stay strong for Maddy.”

I waited.

She turned her face away. “Instead, I broke her.”

I swallowed, thinking of the little girl whose face was so old. Who might never feel young again.

Cassie fell silent again. The seconds ticked by.

Finally, her lips parted. “Will it hurt?”

“It won’t be easy,” I said truthfully. “Chemo and radiation aren’t painless. But we’ll be here for you and Maddy, all the way.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment. A tear leaked out. And then finally, blessedly, the whisper came. “Okay. We can start treatment.”

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Outside my bedroom window, a woodpecker pecked at a nearby tree. I leaned on my elbow and stared out at the late afternoon sunrays gilding the rooftops, at the vibrant green of summer trees. It had been a packed week of barely sleeping, hardly eating, all swallowed by Cassie’s care. And also….

Binyamin’s green eyes glinted in my mind. Yeah. Him.

It was Sunday, nearly a week after our waterfall date, and I still hadn’t given Mrs. Goldwasser an answer.

I stared at my phone, where her latest message blinked.

Hi Bayla, just checking in. Binyamin mentioned he hoped everything was okay. He was also wondering if he might have said or did something that made you feel uncomfortable.

My heart contracted. I thought back to our conversation, his earnest face, the way his shoulders had slumped as he told me about his cousin. And I thought of Cassie, only agreeing to treatment after I’d taken a step back.

I swallowed, hard.

The problem had never been with him. It had been with me. I’d been unfair, unreasonable, painting him with the tarred brush of my illogical expectations. And yet…

I looked at the text again. Despite it all, Binyamin wasn’t angry, wasn’t backing away; he was still trying, still reaching out.

He… hadn’t given up on me. On us.

A sudden smile rose before I could stop it, blooms of warmth flowering in my chest. I lifted my phone, fingers hovering over the screen. And then I stopped. Instead, I dialed a familiar number.

It rang once. Twice.

My fingers gripped the phone, slightly sweaty.

“Hello?” Mrs. Goldwasser’s voice filled my ear.

“Hi, it’s Bayla. I’m sorry for the delay.” I took a deep breath. “Would you mind telling Binyamin that I owe him an apology? And if he’s willing… I’d like to do it in person.”

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 955)