22
Awake
Ka ua ‘awa
The bitter rain.
It didn’t hurt, although it should have.
Jay reclined against his hospital bed’s pillows watching the TV, but not seeing it. Dad was holding Jay’s hand, careful of the IV.
Are we crossing a street? Jay thought.
Dad hasn’t held my hand like this in years.
Dad and Lili were sitting in metal folding chairs next to his bed, while Mom flitted around the room, making sure his cup had ice.
A man Jay didn’t know was standing on the other side of his bed, his white coat bright under the fluorescents. There was a buzzing in the background, a sound like a mosquito looking for a meal.
Jay waved a hand at his ear to brush it aside, but nothing changed.
Bzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzz.
So annoying, he thought, and shook his head.
Bzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzz, bz
