Page 47 of Hold Me (Cyclone 2)

Apparently, I’ve managed to hide how I feel. Because she smiles, long and slow. “I thought you’d never ask.”

* * *

MARIA

* * *

I’m at lunch with Anj the next day, and she’s ecstatic.

“It’s all done but the super-picky formatting.”

“Congratulations.”

“And the defense, but whatever.” She waves this off. “It’s just a formality. Part of the hazing ritual, yada yada yada. Nobody actually fails their dissertation defense these days.”

“Well, congratulations. Any thoughts on jobs?”

Anj gives me a perplexed look.

“Never mind,” I say. “I forgot that salaries don’t apply to you.”

She blinks for a moment, as if she still doesn’t understand. Then she goes on. “I’m having a party,” she says. “You’re invited. You and that new boyfriend you keep ditching me for.”

“Ugh.” I make a face. “Once. I ditched you for him once.”

“It’s Sunday,” Anj says, “and it’s a costume party.”

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes! It’s a chicken-or-shark costume party. Come as one or the other.”

I stare at her in annoyed dismay. “Anj, I’m not dressing up as a chicken, not even for your dissertation party. I’m really sorry. I’m just not.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Anj says with a smile. “You’re coming as a shark.”

Because I love sharks so much. Arguing with Anj is hopeless. I bite my lip.

“Are you bringing what’s-his-name?”

“Jay,” I say. “And no. He’s going to be in Melbourne. Science stuff.”

“Okay,” she says. “Then I’ll see you there.”

After lunch, I’m already thinking of excuses to make to her when my phone rings. One glance at my caller ID, and I’m rushing to answer.

“Nana! Are you done with your trial?”

“Yes. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I spent the jury deliberations drafting a response to the expected motion for judgment notwithstanding the verdict,” she says, “which I expect them to file in five days or so. But we won. For now.”

“Yay!” I grin. “How long do you need to sleep?”

“Couple days. But come Saturday I may be temporarily human again. Come over?”

“Of course! We can celebrate your survival!”

“Urgh.” She snorts. “Right now, I feel like ass…phalt.”

“It’s okay, Nana. You can say you feel like ass.”

“I feel like a disgusting, tarry substance with potholes,” she replies, “but I’ll bounce back.”

“Well, call me when you wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

No, I tell myself. It’s probably for the best that Jay is out of town for a week. I can tell Nana about him and figure out how to avoid costumes.

It’s probably for the best.

* * *

It’s probably for the best, I tell myself the next afternoon, after seeing Jay leave for the airport, because if I’ve neglected anyone, it’s Tina.

She’s had a rough couple of weeks herself.

We’re sitting around, just like old times. I’m working on a blogpost. She’s doing a problem set. And we only have a couple of months left as roommates, which is something I still have to discuss with her. But before we get there…

“Okay,” I say to Tina, “so what sort of biological creature could I create with 3D-bioprinting if rodents won’t work. Spiders?”

“What is this?” She shakes her head. “Ask Tina about bizarre bioprinting applications day?”

I sigh patiently. “I have to ask you about bioprinting. You said your boss would get a kick if bioLogica ended up in my blog.”

Tina rolls her eyes. “He’s not my boss. A, I don’t work there right now. B, he doesn’t really work there, either. Paul’s an aging retired genius who doesn’t even live in the US. He has crazy ideas that they asked me to test over the summer.”

I look at her. “You’re upset.”

She sighs. “Not really. It’s just an Adam Reynolds thing. He’s acting weird and I don’t know why. I should just outright ask him if he’s on drugs again.” She frowns. “And that’ll go over great with Blake.”

I do not envy her her boyfriend’s family, that’s for damned sure. I try to think of something positive to say. But while I’m fumbling to be supportive, my phone rings. It’s my grandmother. She must have finally woken up.

“Hold on,” I say. “I have to get this.”

I answer.

“Hey, Maria.” The sound of Nana’s voice is familiar. The background noise—something like a PA system announcing something unintelligible—is not.

“Hey, Nana. Are you awake already?”

“So.” She sighs. “About that. I don’t want to freak you out, but…”

Her long pause is already freaking me out.

“I kind of went down to Saint Francis.”

“You did what?” Saint Francis is the hospital near her house. My hands feel suddenly cold.

“Don’t freak out,” she tells me.

I’m freaking out. My hands feel unsteady.

“It’s not a big deal,” she continues. “I saw a doctor about it yesterday. It’s just a little thing with my kidneys. They want to keep me in the hospital for a couple of days, but—”

“They’re keeping you in the hospital?” I glance over at Tina.

Her mouth rounds in shock. Her eyes widen. Oh, no, she mouths. She stands up and puts an arm around me. My world seems to collapse to a couple of senses—the sound of Nana’s voice on the phone, the feel of Tina’s hand rubbing my back.

“I know,?? Nana says, sounding annoyed. “It’s so stupid. It’s just because I can’t keep these stupid antibiotics down.” She makes it sound like an inconvenience, like she left her keys at a coffee shop. “Also,” she adds thoughtfully, “it might be because they think I’m stubborn. Maybe I didn’t come in when I first realized there was blood in my urine.”

“Nana.” I say the word in absolute horror. “What are you doing?”

“Sitting here bored with an IV drip,” she answers dryly.

“Fine.” I stand up. “Good. I’m coming in, okay? Is there anything you need?”

“A bottle of wine.”

I exhale. “That’s going to interact with your antibiotics.”

“Where’s your sense of humor?”

“I seem to have left it somewhere around the word hospital. Maybe kidney.”

“Be that way.” She sighs. “If I’m not getting any alcohol out of you, stop by my house and get my Kindle.”

“Okay.” I’m glad to have something to do.

“And my cell phone charger.”

“Sure.”

“And my laptop.” She sounds more hopeful as she says this. “I want to look over that response—”

“Nana, aren’t you supposed to be resting?”

“I’m surrounded by doctors. If I’m going to collapse from overwork, I couldn’t be in a better spot.”

She’s not helping. I can’t tell from her tone if it’s really serious and she’s downplaying it, or if it’s as minor as she claims.

Either is possible.

I look up at the ceiling. “You’re freaking me out. Will you please take care of yourself?”

“Oh, fine,” she says with bad grace. “I’ll behave.”

“I’ll be there,” I say. I’m already fumbling for my keys and my purse. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

25

MARIA

The BART across the Bay seems to take forever. It’s rush hour, and it’s standing room only all the way here. Between calling Gabe and ransacking Nana’s apartment for her electronics, a small eternity passes before I arrive at the hospital.

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