Tired of listening to people argue about where I fit in (without ever acknowledging I was in the room), I went to sit with JD. (There was still a guard posted outside his room, until the various agencies could agree whether he was a witness, a suspect, or some combination thereof.) JD was much better company, even unconscious. I held his intact hand in my bandageless one. JD’s surgery had been simple—no need to shorten the bone—and it seemed to have gone well and quickly. Stretched out in a chair next to him, with a blanket to keep my bare legs warm, I couldn’t get comfortable. Finally, I lowered the rail on the side of his bed, wary of wires and tubes, and snuggled up next to him. JD stirred, nestling his body sideways against me, but he didn’t wake. Within minutes, I was asleep, too.
Su
