I stand, help Brick toward the exam room. Through the window, I see the parking lot. A beat-up van catches my eye. Medical crosses on the side. "Mobile Mercy Unit" in careful letters.
Her van. She's here.
"You good?" Brick asks.
"Fine."
But I'm not. I'm putting pieces together. She works trauma. Runs a ghost clinic. Parks in the same lot I'm staring at. Lena. Angel has a name and a van and a life that has nothing to do with violence or vengeance.
My phone buzzes.
Angel:[Voice note attached]
Six seconds.
I shouldn't listen here. But I do. Earbud in while Brick gets X-rays.
"Missing your voice today, Diablo." She sounds exhausted. "Which is inconvenient since I'm elbow-deep in someone's chest cavity." A pause. "Not literally. Well, not anymore."
I listen eight times. Like an addict. Her tired laugh at the end ruins me.
Later, I'm home, and Dylan's having a crisis.
Dylan:How do you know if a girl likes you?
She tells you
Dylan:What if she doesn't?
Then she doesn't like you
Dylan:What if she's just shy?
I think about Lena. About how she sent me audio of her coming before telling me her name. About how I know her Instagram but not her last name.
Talk to her. Use words. In person
Dylan:Says the guy who probably doesn't even know his girlfriend's last name
Fuck. Kid's too smart.
Dylan:Wait. You don't, do you?
Dylan:OMG YOU DON'T KNOW HER NAME
It's complicated
Dylan:You're stalking someone on Instagram aren't you
Dylan
Dylan:This is amazing. You're a disaster. I'm getting advice from a disaster
Talk to your chemistry girl or I'm telling your mom about the vape pen
Dylan:You wouldn't
Try me
