“Tell him to bring me some pancit!” Lola yells in the background.
“Absolutely not! Do you know how much salt is in that?”
I listen to them bicker back and forth for a moment, letting their voices still the worry that was building in my chest.Lola is fine—for now, anyway. Apparently, Kate heckled the doctor to force Lola to stay in the hospital through the weekend so they can make arrangements. Babysitters, if we’re being honest.
I rush around, almost forgetting to wash the dirt off my hands, as I get to Kate’s place to collect her things. Something about packing the woman you love’s clothes feels intimate—probably because I felt like a creep tossing certain things into a bag. Who knows what kind of coverage she’s going to have, but I know there are at least five pairs.
The hospital is quiet when I get there, hallways empty and the light of day starting to fade outside the large windows. It’s almost enough to soothe the ache still lingering in the back of my head. A few nurses weave up and down the hall as I make my way to Lola’s room. Kate is leaning against the wall, waiting for me. Her eyes are tired and shoulders pulled down, the stress of the day all over her. But when she sees me, the spark in her eyes is back, and I feel my pathetic, sappy self inflate with hope.
I let out a sigh of relief when she wraps her arms around me, and I feel her shoulders relax with relief as I squeeze her. The bag of food I brought crinkles loudly at her back, which makes her laugh against my shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Just doing my duty.”
“Aye! Katherine Joy, hurry it up!” Lola yells from inside her room. Even from twenty feet away, it’s loud enough to send a pulse of pain down the back of my head. Kate groans pitifully and leads me into the room. Lola is set up in bed, pillows cascading around her in a sheet of white with her blue fluffy robe draped over her tiny frame. Her speckled hair is in two knots on the top of her head. “Malcolm! My apo!” She just about jumps out of the bed to greet me, and I have to rush to her side to keep her feet from hitting the ground.
“Lola, stay,” I urge her and sit on the edge of the bed. My head threatens to burst from the quick motion, but I fight it and focus on her.
“Are you here to rescue me?”
“No, he is not,” Kate snips, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the room.
Lola mumbles in Tagalog under her breath, “You are not the boss of me.”
“Seeing as you had a heart attack, I believe yes, I am the boss of you now. No more absurd fitness classes. No more wanderingoff by yourself for hours.” She shoves a bite of food in her mouth. “And no more secret handyman boyfriend visits!”
“Handyman boyfriend? What are you— Katherine Stanley! Are you tracking my love life?” Lola gasps and bores her eyes into Kate over my shoulder. The look makes me shudder.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed all the updates happening at your house. I knowyouaren’t the one fixing the shingles on your roof.” Kate talks with her mouth half full, taking another bite and wiping the corner of her mouth with a tissue. “Don’t deny it!”
“Uh, Kate—”
“Don’t bother.” Lola rests her hand on my wrist, cutting me off.
I assumed it was obvious that I’m the one fixing up Lola’s house. I wasn’t looking for recognition, but the idea of Lola having a man—friend? partner? whatever a woman her age tends to have—spending their time painting and fixing leaks is absurd. I glance over my shoulder and see Kate eyeing her, a duel happening over my head. Maybe I can let her think what she wants. It’s quite hilarious seeing Kate’s face when she figures out how wrong she is about something.
Last year, she was confident Ross from night school was stealing her pens, seeing as he shares her classroom. She was irate one day that her favorite purple gel pen with a fuzzy cap was gone. Her treasured Secret Santa gift was now missing, and the only possible culprit was Ross, the man who carries one folder to class every evening and grades every piece of parchment with the same black pen since he started years ago. A creature of habit was surely the one who stole her prized possession, right? Wrong. It turned out, Emma’s twins had been making themselves busy during their Saturday morning visits, stashing the pens, paper clips, and crayons they hijacked from the art room in the bottom desk drawer of Kate’s desk—thedrawer she refuses to organize. It took me all of two minutes to open it, pull out the junk, and reveal hundreds of pens sitting on the bottom. Kate’s cheeks were red for hours with embarrassment.
“Exactly. Don’t bother.” Kate directs her attention to me. “I’ll figure out who soon enough.”
Our phones buzz and ding simultaneously—a group chat from the faculty.
EJones:Is Lola doing alright? - Emma
The urge to remind Emma that she doesn’t have to sign her messages is strong, but I resist. As I type a response, Benny beats me to it.
BDivata:Yes, should be released tomorrow :)
KStanley:You say released as if she’s a free woman now… WHICH SHE IS NOT
EJones:I won’t ask what that’s about, then. - Emma
EJones:Anyway! URGENT STAFF MEETING IN ONE HOUR! (Minus you, Kate. Stay with Lola) -Emma
MGeer:I’ll fill her in later.
Glancing back at Kate, she gives me a small, grateful smile. The smile doesn’t reach her cheeks. It’s tired and defeated, and something in my chest constricts at the sight of it. Seeing Katebe anything but happy is enough to suffocate me from the inside out.
“Lola, I have to go. I’ll come see you tomorrow.” Leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek, Lola wraps her slender arms around my shoulders and squeezes, restricting the oxygen to my damaged brain. For just having a heart attack, the woman still packs a punch.
