She caught herself for a moment. “Maybe like you and your daughter are. Not like you should be, but not like you aren’t at all.”
It was a masterful answer, Julian thought. Betty was very good at this; probably had a lot of practice over the years. Her fatigue hadn’t made her brain any less sharp, which was important to keep in mind.
“You get home often?”
She fixed her smile so she looked perfectly tranquil, perfectly unbothered.
“It’s expensive to travel. Until Mr.All-Star came along, need I remind you that I was living in an apartment that may or may not have been declared a hazardous site by the government?”
“Hopefully next week’s surgery fixes Mr.All-Star up and he can get back to it,” Julian replied.
Her face dropped. “Oh, do you think he’ll ask me to leave once he’s better? Back with the team?”
“No,” Julian said plainly. “I think Zeke is lonely, like all of us, and having the best arm in the National League isn’t going to change that, even if it’s back in working order.”
“I don’t want to look like I’m overstaying my welcome,” Betty said. “I really am okay on my own.”
Julian wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t have to be. Instead, he said, “No, this gives you the chance to save up. To visit your family.”
“Well, Natalie thinks I’m anactor’s actor, so maybe I’ll be rich and famous one day. Have my private jet on standby.” She grinned. She was so talented, so adept, so agile. It was hard to knock Julian’s socks off but consider his knocked. “I actually don’t even know what an actor’s actor is.”
“It’s someone who takes her craft seriously. In it for the art, not just the dazzle.”
“Oh.” Betty’s face went pensive, her mouth a frown, her eyesthoughtful. “Actually, you know what, maybe that’s exactly what I am.”
“I need a cider refill,” he said, pushing to his feet. He felt his right knee pop into its socket on his way up. “But for what it’s worth, I agree. I suspect you are a better actor than anyone gives you credit for.”
20
Night Seven
Zeke
A Week Before Thanksgiving
The last thingZeke remembered was counting down on the surgical table as the nurse gave him anesthesia, and now he heard Sybil’s voice before he actually registered it was her voice, his grogginess a cloud over his cerebral synapses. He kept his eyes closed and tried to center himself. He was aware of the steady beep of some machine nearby and that the right side of his upper body was elevated and immobilized, but the fatigue kept dragging him back under. He’d listed her as his emergency contact, as his medical proxy, but he didn’t know why he was surprised that she was here, waiting. Maybe it was because other than his parents and his sister, Lani, he didn’t expect much from anyone in terms of loyalty. The rest of it was all contractual. And yet here she was, as promised. A joy in a joyless time.
“Hey, it’s me,” Sybil was saying. “Just checking in on Betty. Wanted to see if you’d lined up any auditions yet? Don’t tell her I called. I’m at the hospital so might not pick up but call me back.” She paused. “I’m at the hospital with Zeke. I didn’t mean to imply that something’s wrong or that I’ve killed Mark.”
Zeke liked that:I’m at the hospital with Zeke, and he must have been more conscious than he realized because he saw her face shift and their eyes met, and then she said, “Oh my god, I have to go. Call me back.” She dropped her phone on the chair opposite his bed and was beside him.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Is it morning? Have I been asleep all night?”
“Actually, no, it’s ninep.m.”
She gestured to the window where blackness had fallen. They were so comfortable now, being awake in the dark, that rousing when others were preparing for sleep felt entirely normal.
“The surgery took longer than expected,” she said. “You’ve been in recovery for a few hours. Betty and Julian are outside too. Waiting.”
“Mmm,” he managed. He fought to keep his eyes open, an irony for an insomniac.
“Here.” She put a cup of water with a straw in front of his lips. “Let me get your doctors. They’ll want to know you’re up.”
“Wait,” he said, and forced his eyes open again. Though they’d been friends for only six weeks or so, Zeke had come to believe that he could read Sybil as well as he could read anyone. She blinked under the weight of his stare, and Zeke knew, acutely, that whatever the medical team was going to say was not the news he needed to hear. “Just…can I just have a few more minutes before they tell me?”
“Yes,” she said, then slid the chair in the corner over to his bedside.
