“Miss Almonte, please,” I recognize Dr. Medina’s voice now as he tries to get my attention.
“What time is it?” I whine.
“Six in the morning.”
I huff and take the pillow off my face placing it behind me. I stare among the residents, only half of whom I recognize.
“I hear you got a little dehydrated?” Dr. Medina asks as he glances through my medical chart.
“Yeah. I noticed it quickly, though, and came to the hospital right away,” I say.
Dr. Medina faces the students, asking for their proposed plans for keeping food and water in my stomach. They have barely begun pitching treatment plans when the squeak of sneakers rushing into the room draws the attention of the small army of doctors. Someone is late.
And that someone is Rory.
He is staring down at his tablet and looking disheveled. His red hair is a mess, like he just woke up, and his white coat is nowhere near as crisp as the other doctors.
“Glad you could join us, Dr. Dennis,” Dr. Medina says.
“Sorry, doctor. Won’t happen again,” Rory says as he squints at the room. He pats his pockets until he produces his glasses and brings them to his face.
Everything happens around me, but not to me. I’m looking into the hospital room scene from a faraway window like an out of body experience. My stomach burns, and I would grab for the bedpan if I didn’t know there is absolutely nothing in my stomach that can come up right now.
Rory freezes when his eyes land on me. His hands clench around the tablet in his hands, and he looks down, undoubtedly looking at my chart, confirming the name that belongs to the patient. He looks up at my face, back at the tablet, and back to my face, freezing his hold on my eyes on the last glance. I swallow hard, wincing at the painful dryness in my throat. His hands fall to his sides in resignation. I’m not sure if it’s the state of his crumpled doctor’s coat, his slouched posture, or the weakness of his arms dangling at his sides, but Rory gives the impression of a crumpled napkin, discarded on a dirty old street.
The residents are mostly done with rounds by the time Rory arrives. I nod and say, “Sure, sure,” not knowing at all what they have said. They trickle out of the room until only Rory remains.
His mouth parts like he is about to say something, then he shuts it again as he takes a step away from me. My eyes sting as I watch him withdraw. And it is so stupid because we barely know each other. It shouldn’t matter. I don’t care about him. He doesn’t care about me. Not really. So why the hell has this heavy ball of lead settled low in my stomach?
“Rory, I—”
“I have to catch up to the group,” he points with his thumb toward the door and leaves me alone.
The long daydrags after that. Pilar calls me around lunchtime.
“When can I come to see you?” she asks.
I know Felipe won’t let her, so I bluff. “Whenever you want.”
“I’m going to try to manage it. I think next month, I can get away for a week or so. I want to see your new place, the gym, everything.”
“All right,” I say, sure this will never happen.
“How are you liking it there?”
“It’s great. I’ve made a few friends.” Sticking with the positives will keep her at bay for a while.
“That’s great, Tini! Tell me about them.”
“Let’s see, there’s this girl, Mandy. She’s an artist. And her two cousins, Izel and Tlali. Izel writes horror, and Tlali translates novels.” I stick to describing them by their true trades instead of their day jobs. I’m afraid to even mention anything hospital-related to my sister.
“How Bohemian.” Pilar sounds overjoyed. “And strange.”
“Why strange?” I ask.
“All your friends here are gym rats. This is different.”
“New leaf and all that,” I say. “Trying new things. How about you, Pili? How are you doing? Really?”