“I’ll check in on you again when I get back tonight,” I said to her.
She nodded.
“Please tell your daughter thank you for this beautiful picture,” I added. “I love it.”
I really did. It was the kind of thing I’d hang on my fridge. Right next to thank-you cards and family pics.
Her smile lingered as I tapped her leg. “You get some sleep.”
Rothchild joined me and we left. He was probably heading to the cafeteria.
The elevator doors closed behind us and silence settled in.
I stared down at the drawing in my hand, taking in the crooked lines and bright colors.
Then Rothchild cleared his throat.
“Alderwyn,” he said, nodding at my name tag. “That’s a really rare name.”
A small frown pulled at my brow. Small talk. That was unexpected from him.
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met another Alderwyn.”
He nodded. “I actually met another Alderwyn before. A cancer patient.”
My head lifted. “You met someone with the name Alderwyn?”
“Yeah. During my first year out of residency. In this very hospital. I remember the name. I’m into names and their meanings, so I looked up what it meant.”
“Really?” A pause. "What does it mean?"
He scratched his head. “I think it comes from the old Germanic alder tree or something. Means endurance. Someone who survives hardship. Also means protector.”
I nodded. Stunned.
The elevator stopped with ading, and the doors opened. He stepped out.
“See you at eleven,” he said. “Don’t be late, or I’ll fail you this semester.”
The doors were about to close when I put my arm between them.
“Wait.”
He turned around.
“How long ago was that?” I asked. “I mean, when you met the other Alderwyn?”
He thought for a moment. “God. I don’t know. Maybe ten years or so.”
“Was it a woman?”
He shook his head. “No idea, kid. It was a long time ago.”
Interest gone, he turned and walked off.
The doors closed again, and this time I let them.
By the time I reached the waiting room, it was nearly empty. An older woman was flipping through a magazine. A mom nearby tried to keep two bored kids quiet. That was it.
