Jed chuckled. “He doesn’t hate anyone. Hasn’t got it in him. But he’ll probably ignore you while he’s got hisharnesson.”
Ah, the harness. I’d seen that in service dogs before. I scratched Desta’s ears to no response, then moved to the sink to wash up. Jed closed his eyes while I scrubbed my hands. I studied him and searched my brain for possible side effects of the iron IV. Nausea was one. A shitty headache was another, but I was fairly certain Jed was the kind of dude who wouldn’t let me know unless he was pretty muchdying.
I dried off and moved back to his side. “You’re good to go. Do you usually react okay to theinfusion?”
“Nothing I can’thandle.”
Case in point. I grinned to myself and pressed my fist lightly to his arm. I wasn’t a particularly tactile caregiver, but with Jed’s eyes still closed, I wanted him to know I was there. Or at least could be if he needed anything. “I’ll be back in a bit to check on you. Press the buzzer if you need mebeforethen.”
Jed didn’t press the buzzer. His infusion took three hours, and every time I looked in on him, he appeared to be asleep. Observing Desta seemed to be the best way of gauging Jed, and it was around midday when I offered him someVicodin.
I’d just administered the shot when Glennstoppedby.
“I need you,” he said to me, his eyes on Jed. “Gotta pack up the old girl next door forpalliativecare.”
Great.Sick kids I could handle. Death, blood, and guts: none of it shook me anywhere near as much as it probably should’ve. But old folk fading away, sometimes by the minute, turned me inside out. And Glenn knew it too, which was how I knew there was no other nurse available tohelphim.
I left Jed and went to the room next door. A small cluster of relatives was gathered at the bedside of an elderly woman, who couldn’t have looked more like Maggie if she’d tried. The accents in the room were Spanish, not Italian, but their grief cut deep all the same. I stayed with them for the rest of the day. There were moments when I could’ve left them and passed their care to someone else, but I didn’t. I saw them onto the ambulance and then trudged back inside to get mystuff.
On my way out, I found Jed sitting on a bench, his nose once again buried in his notebook. It crossed my mind to walk on by, but he glanced up as I got closer and smiled warmly enough for me to drop downbesidehim.
“Badday?”
I grunted. “Noonedied.”
“They don’t have to if you know they aren’t goingtolive.”
“True that.” I leaned back on the bench and thought of the Spanish grandma. She’d been ill for years, and it had taken her family that long to accept that they’d lost her. Me? I barely made it six months before I realized it was over for Maggie. “How are you doing? Did you get through the infusion okay? Sorry I didn’t get backtoyou.”
Jed stared at me, and for a protracted moment, his keen gaze seemed to pierce my soul.He knows.But how could he? Glenn was the only person alive who knew my darkest secret, and though he was Jed’s best friend, I trusted him almost as much as I trusted Ash. A black irony hit me like a knife to the chest, but Jed spoke before I could reel from it, so I saved the pity party forlater.
“I’m good,” he said. “Having it in a different hospital dulled the monotony. Change is as good as rest,right?”
“If you say so. You look prettytired.”
If Jed was offended by my candor, it didn’t show, and why would it when he was used to Glenn pulling no punches when he had something to say? “I’m all right,” he said. “Nothing a four-hour flightwon’tcure.”
“You’releaving?”
“Tomorrow night. I’ve got some business at the VA hospital, then I’m heading to theairport.”
“Oh.” It was the longest conversation I’d had with him so far, but my stomach clenched at the thought of him leaving. And I had no clue why. Something felt unfinished,butwhat?
Fuck ifIknew.
* * *
ImetAsh at the studio in Andersonville and dragged him to the chili house across the street. It wasn’t as good as the one we’d practically lived at in Lincoln Park all those years ago, but I was so hungry after a twelve-hour shift my belly thought my throat hadbeencut.
Ash was less enthusiastic and picked at his dinner while I made short work ofmyown.
I nudged him under the table. “Something onyourmind?”
“Esme and Bill want to take Liam to Seattle forChristmas.”
It took me a moment to compute the names. Liam’s foster parents were an English couple who’d moved to Chicago ten years ago and soterriblywell spoken they would forever be Mr. and Mrs. Gellar to me. “Okaaay. How long do they want togofor?”
“Three weeks. They wouldn’t be back until NewYear’sEve.”
