“I am.”
“Well isn’t that something,” Mom says. “And you have a daughter?”
“Mia. She’s seven.”
Hallie smiles at me and I smile back.
“Oh, goodness,” Mom says. “I do love that age. They’re such thinkers, but still childlike. First grade or second?”
“Second. Her birthday’s early.”
“Oh my. Well, that’s just lovely.”
Mom’s already in grandma mode. I can feel it. I need a brake pedal.
Mom turns her attention to me, eyeing my monitors and then looking me over. “How are you feeling? What are your levels like?”
I glance at Hallie. “Mom was a nurse.”
“Ahhh,” Hallie says. “Medical expertise runs in the family.”
“And Dad’s a retired pediatrician,” I tell her.
“Wow. Well, I know who to call if we ever need a second opinion.” Hallie smiles at Mom and I detect a note of nervousness.
Is she nervous to meet my parents?
I shift in the bed.
Dad comes back with two chairs, setting them on the opposite side of my bed from Hallie.
“Well, Hallie,” Dad says. “Tell us about yourself.”
Hallie tells my parents about her move. They ask her about being a woman on the crew, and about Mia. Then the conversation veers toward their trips to East Tennessee and Maryville. Dollywood. Their voices blur. I try to focus, but eventually I give in to the tug behind my eyelids and drift off.
When I wake, Hallie is still here, dutifully positioned at my bedside. My parents are not in the room.
“Your parents went back to your house. Your mom said something about making sure you had food for when you get out.”
“Oh, man,” I say.
Hallie smiles. “They’re sweet.”
“Yeah, they are.”
“How do you feel?” she asks.
“No pain,” I say. “A little groggy.”
“You should rest. The guys are coming by. And I think the baseball team has plans.”
I wince.
“Pain?” Hallie asks.
“Too many visitors,” I say.
She laughs a full laugh. “Well, there’s the sign.”
