Page 105 of The Doctor's Truth

Quickly, I swipe tears from my eyes. “Pizza sounds heavenly.”

52

Jason

They stay at the hospital for three nights.

Pearl comes in and out, bringing clothes, bringing food. I try to help where I can.

Nothing from Donovan. I’ve called, texted, but he’s a ghost in the wind.

I don’t get anything from him but a voicemail informing me to trust him and a reminder to water the house plant.

I try not to let it get to me, but it’s hard. It’s like breaking the inside of your lip and trying to ignore the bump.

I’ve got to be strong. Kenzi needs me. Otto needs me.

She puts on a smile for Otto and keeps her voice light and jolly, but a light has gone out behind her eyes.

She’s spent. And I can’t blame her.

I keep myself busy. The day of Otto’s release, I do a clean appendectomy. The surgery is flawless, the stitches tight, and it feels healing, somehow. Like in removing the bad organ in another human, I’m cleaning out something rotten within myself, too.

Sometimes, it’s better to get rid of something toxic than try to hold on to it.

I finish my shift and knock lightly on the door to their room. Kenzi opens up. She’s wearing a thick gray sweater that swallows her. She looks glassy-eyed and tired. “Hey. Otto’s napping.”

I see the kid in bed behind her. It breaks my heart every time to see him looped up to machines.

“I talked to Dr. Esmeralda,” I tell her.

“And?”

“I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is, he’s not getting any better.”

Kenzi hugs herself tighter. “The good news?”

“He’s stable enough to go home.”

“That is good,” she says, her voice sounding hollow. “He misses his own bed.”

I take her arm in my hand and give it a small squeeze. “I’m finishing up here. Want me to come over? Keep an eye on him.”

She nods, and a little hair tumbles out of her messy bun. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

* * *

We pick up bar food at the Anchor and drive to Kenzi’s place.

Missus P sets the table, a meal of bar burgers and fries, but no one seems very hungry. Eventually, Kenzi takes Otto upstairs to give him a bath and put him to bed.

Kenzi’s mom is clearing the table, putting the dishes in the sink. I roll up my sleeves and button them above the elbow.

“Can I lend a hand, Missus P?”

“You do one better and lend both of your hands, Jason. That wine won’t open itself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

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