“The counselor felt it would be good for you andyour girlfriendto explore your feelings.”
I sat up. “Ava’s going to be there?”
“It seems so. She’s your girlfriend already?”
“Maybe. How long do I have until this art therapy thing?”
Gram glanced at the clock. “Fifteen minutes. I let you sleep as long as possible since you were up all night.”
“Oh man, oh man.” I jumped up. “I can’t shower. What do I do?”
“Get a washcloth and wipe yourself down,” she said with a laugh. She pushed me toward the bathroom, holding out the backpack. The tech must have transferred my wires while I slept. “Go on.”
After the best sort of wash-down I could manage, I changed into my father’s other bowling shirt, a green and blue one.
It hadn’t been worn in years. Most of my family’s things were in storage. Gram had the idea that we’d go back and sort through them one day, but we never felt up to the task.
But I’d kept the bowling shirts with me, part of the stash I took from my old house before it was packed away.
They were part of my best history. Mom used to host these girls’ nights where she would play some dice game with her friends. Dad would take me and my brother Stephen bowling to get us out of her hair.
Stephen was only nine and pretty terrible. But I had good aim for a kid. Dad admired my ability to outscorehim. That final year, Mom got us all matching bowling shirts. After the accident, I wore mine every time it was clean until I finally grew enough that I couldn’t button it anymore.
Only when we were packing to come to the hospital did I dig out the two that were Dad’s. I never wore button-down shirts, but I needed some due to the wires.
They fit perfectly, and I was positive they would bring me luck in the hospital. I examined myself in the mirror. I looked like hell. Dark circles under my eyes. Random tufts of hair sticking out from beneath the gauze.
Ava would look at me today and wonder what she was thinking. I smashed my hair the best I could and headed back into the room.
Nurse DeShawn waited for me at the door.
“Are you always here?” I asked.
He clapped me on the back. “I’m going to pretend you’re asking that because you’re glad to see me every day.”
“I thought nurses only worked two days a week or something.”
“I’m four on and three off,” DeShawn said. “So you’ve got me today and tomorrow.”
“Cool.”
He grinned. “Come on. Let’s go see that so-called girlfriend of yours.” He shook his head. “Can’t believe that stunt you pulled actually worked.”
“When it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be.”
The art room was farther afield, in the main part of the hospital away from the epilepsy unit. Apparently, I would not be live monitored, but the cameras in the room would record my activity so it could be played back should something happen.
At this point, I didn’t expect it. My seizures came in clusters, sometimes a few days apart, sometimes weeks or even months. Catching them while we were at the hospital was like throwing a dart at the moon.
Ava was already there when we walked in. She had changed into a soft green button-up sweater that looked far too large. Probably her mother’s. Gram often wore something similar.
That didn’t matter. Her expression lit up when she saw me, and that was the best thing.
I sat next to her. The table must have been intended for preschoolers because when I squatted on the little chair, my knees bumped the edge.
Ava laughed. “We are giants.”
“From the land of the Lilliputians,” I said.
