“Finn did not want you to go. He said it is not safe.” She shakes her head forlornly. “But the doctor said you could die, so he took you here.”
At the mention of Finn, a zing of electricity shoots straight between my legs. I press my thighs together. No one knows what happened in that dream, so why do I feel like Martina will take one look at my lips and know everything?
“W-where’s Finn now?” I stammer.
“He left.” Martina waves her hand flippantly.
“Left? Like… to go to school or…”
“The three of them have gone to find their mother.” She speaks in a rush and looks me over. “Would you like something to eat? I need to call your doctor. Ay-ya, where did I put my phone?”
“When did Finn leave?”
“This morning.”
“This morning?” I study the sunlight beneath the drapes, making mental calculations.
I went to bed close to dawn. Vivid dreams like the one I had with Finn usually occur during the last cycles of REM sleep. I had heart palpitations after the dream ended, which means Finn wasn’t even in the house—no, he probably wasn’t even in the city when my subconscious was grinding into his body and sucking on his mouth like a cotton-candy-flavored chocolate bar.
I breathe out in relief.
“The doctor’s not picking up,” Martina cries. Pacing in front of me, she plants a hand on her head and continues calling.
“It’s okay. He’s probably with a patient.”
“I’ll call a nurse.” Martina presses the button behind the bed and then hovers over me. “How are you feeling now?”
“Fine.” I wince and rub my chest. “A little sore.”
“Are you strong enough to eat? I bought chicken soup. It’s not as good as mine but…”
I shake my head.
Martina gives me a motherly smile. “He was so worried about you. He’ll be glad to know you’re all right.”
“Who? Dr. Kenji?”
“Finn.”
I almost choke on my own spit. “Finn?”
“Yes, he’s very caring.”
I laugh, but it hurts my chest, and I end up coughing.
“Everyone thinks he is cold and grumpy,” Martina says defensively, “but he is very sensitive boy. Very careful.”
She looks around before confessing. “When he was young, his mother took him to a therapist. She said he has a problem—not a mental problem. Just ateeny weenyproblem understanding feelings.”
“Finn doesn’t understand feelings?”
“Not like you and me. He feels things, but he cannot explain what they are.”
Really? I absorb all the information Martina feeds me. That explains so much. Finn often seems detached or numb at times. I thought it was because he didn’t feel anything, but it turns out, he just doesn’t know how to…describethe feelings?
“So this Finn. He takes books. He highlights. He studies. He learns as much about feelings as he can. He has a problem, but it’s a strength. He knows what you are feeling better than you do.”
I recall the night Finn pointed to my diluted pupils and informed me that I wanted him. “H-he can’t be right all the time, can he?”
