I shuddered. Lung drainage—that was serious. It meant blood had entered his airways. Only then did I realize he was speaking slowly, deliberately. Of course—he couldn’t breathe well. I imagined he wasn’t pronouncing English clearly not only because of his Russian accent, but because of the wound to his mouth and cheek, in addition to the lung problem.
For a moment I thought about saying goodbye so he would stop making foolish efforts to talk, but I was selfish and didn’t want to.
Who knew when we would communicate again?
“…that’s why I don’t understand you very well, I suppose. Does it hurt a lot?” I said, after swallowing.
“Now? Quite a bit. But still bearable. Yesterday I was able to see the children.”
Hearing about the little ones gave me a sudden rush of joy.
“Really? How are the
