Brynn eyed it skeptically.“What’s that supposed to be?”
“Book I read when I was about your age,” I said, flipping it open to the dog-eared first page.“Thought maybe you’d like it.”
“Fantasy?”She wrinkled her nose.“Seriously?”
“Listen to a chapter before you judge.If you hate it, I’ll find something else.”I cleared my throat and began reading, my gravelly voice filling the small room.
I’d always been a big reader.The words came easy, and I found myself falling into the familiar rhythm of the story.I snuck glances at Brynn between paragraphs.She maintained an expression of bored tolerance, but her eyes remained fixed on me, alert and following every word.
Three chapters in, a nurse came in with Brynn’s lunchtime meds.I paused reading, marking my place with my finger.
“Don’t stop on my account,” the nurse said cheerfully, checking Brynn’s IV lines.“I love hearing stories.Makes me almost want to stay and listen.”
“It’s stupid,” Brynn muttered, but there wasn’t any real conviction behind it.
“Sure it is,” I agreed, exchanging a knowing look with the nurse as she handed Brynn her pills.
After the nurse left, Brynn took one look at the sad tray of hospital food -- some kind of beige mush masquerading as chicken casserole -- and pushed it away with a grimace.
“Got you covered,” I said, reaching into my backpack again and pulling out a paper bag.Inside was a container of Ada’s homemade chicken soup, still warm in its thermos, and a slice of chocolate cake wrapped carefully in wax paper.
Brynn’s eyes widened.“How’d you smuggle that in?”
“Nurse Martinez has a weakness for Knuckles’ espresso beans.We worked out a deal.”I transferred the soup to a bowl and handed it to her with a plastic spoon.“Besides.Ada was careful with what she put in it and followed the dietary guidelines.She said she needed to make sure we could feed you when you got home anyway.”
She took it without comment, but the speed with which she dug in told me everything I needed to know about how hungry she actually was.
And so our day went.I read more chapters, pausing when Brynn needed her meds or when her eyes grew heavy.Around mid-morning, the day nurse came in for vitals check, her tablet tucked under her arm.
“So, how’s Miss Brynn doing today?”she asked, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around Brynn’s arm.
“I’d feel better if people would stop asking me how I’m doing every five minutes,” Brynn grumbled.
The nurse just smiled, used to Brynn’s prickly responses by now.She checked the various monitors, made notes, and then looked at me.“Bloodwork from this morning came back looking good.Dr.Patel is very pleased with her progress.”
I tried to keep my face neutral, but I felt my shoulders drop several inches from where they’d been permanently lodged around my ears.
“That’s good,” I said, my voice rougher than I intended.
“That’sexcellent,” the nurse corrected, giving me a knowing smile.“Keep doing whatever you’re doing.It seems to be working.”
After she left, Brynn picked at the edge of her blanket again, not meeting my eyes.
“So,” she said after a long moment, “guess your kidney doesn’t completely hate me.”
I laughed, a short burst of sound that surprised even me.“‘Course not.It’s part of me, isn’t it?And I definitely don’t hate you.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
“Want to hear what happens next?”I asked, holding up the book.“The kid’s about to discover the secret cave behind the waterfall.”
Brynn rolled her eyes but settled back against her pillows.“Fine.But only because there’s literally nothing else to do in this place.”
The paperback worked well.Until day seven.By then, even dragons and magic couldn’t keep the restlessness at bay.Brynn got stronger every day.She needed less and less sleep and didn’t tire as easily.She should have been able to go home the day before, but Dr.Patel, out of an abundance of caution, talked us into a couple more days to give her body time to heal and the graft attaching her kidney time to… do whatever the hell grafts do to heal.Brynn’s fingers tapped an erratic rhythm against her blanket while I read, her eyes drifting more frequently to the window than to me.I’d seen that look before.In prison.On the faces of men too long confined in small spaces.I reached into my backpack and pulled out a small box I’d had Ada bring.
“What’s that?”Brynn asked, perking up at the prospect of something new to break the monotony.
I opened the box and pulled out a compact magnetic chess set, the pieces small but solid.“Thought you might be going stir-crazy.This helped me keep my head on straight inside.”
