Thirty-Three
The Patient Patient
I listen to make sure no one else is showering and then grab my phone from the nightstand, relieved to see there were no missed calls from the hospital—only missed texts from Finan checking in to see how Rupert is. I shoot a quick reply that I don’t have much info yet, but he’s in ICU and I promise to call as soon as I talk to the doctors.
Upon exiting the bathroom wrapped in Rupert’s very soft bamboo towels, I find my clean, folded clothes from yesterday on the bench at the bed’s end. I smile and hug my shirt to my face. “Catrina …” She must’ve stayed up after I crashed and washed them. The little harpy who lives in my head questions why this virtual stranger would do something so nice for me—maybe she wants something.
“Shut up,” I whisper to her. I do
