45
Addy and I sat facing the glass and metal entrance in the hospital’s white, aseptic waiting area. Huddled against the hospital’s frigid air conditioning, I kept hoping someone would walk near enough for the doors to open and let warmer air inside.
A whimpering boy with an injured ankle sat in his mother’s lap to Addy’s left, and an adult man with a bloody arm sat to my right. Soon a guy wearing the same construction logo hat and T-shirt joined the bloody man and asked questions from a clipboard in hushed tones. I rested my elbows on the tubular metal chair arms and pulled my sunglasses from the tangled hair atop my head. The fluorescent lights were giving me a headache.
“Deidre’s lucky to have Roger,” Addy murmured.
“Yes, she is,” I agreed.
Roger had been waiting out front when we
