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Inside the room, Sasha was drinking from a small test tube filled with blood. She put it back into a stand on a table near the two hospital beds. She saw three more test tubes there, filled with blood. Her eyes moved to the form on the non-empty hospital bed. She moved out of Tristan’s arms, closer to the bed.
She looked down at the guy laying there with his eyes closed. He had dark short hair. His body looked muscular, like he worked out. He was attractive, resembled Adrian a little bit.
“You two were very close when you were babies.” Sasha moved closer. Tristan moved to get between them. He was being very protective.
“The only way you could be told apart in the face was that his eyes were blue, yours green. Until you grew a bit and you started to look like individuals.”
Sasha put her hand on the side rail of the hospital bed.
“The twin bond was strong with you both. Maybe even stronger than with Sam and me and we have a pretty thick bond. We were pretty sure you could read one another’s minds. You were also exceptionally bright, even as a baby; so intuitive. You stacked blocks, did puzzles, everything ahead of your age. You were very strong willed, stubborn, and feisty.”
She heard Tristan chuckle. She shot him a pretend indignant and evil eye but then smirked at him and winked.
“The first time I met you, you were about eight months old and when your parents took you both to leave, you were in your mother’s arms and I waved goodbye to you. You waved back. Then I saw you again when you were two years old. You saw me and smiled and waved at me instantly and when I asked them if that was typical they said it wasn’t. I knew you remembered me. At three, I saw you reading your brother’s mind during a game of Go Fish, that I’d taught you both. He would get frustrated at how you could guess every card in his hand. It was like you read his eyes, knew what he had. Have you continued to have those traits?”
“No,” Kyla answered softly, “I don’t think so. I’ve always been intuitive about people, I guess. Not long ago, after meeting Tristan, I started to have dreams and some of them came true. Or sort of. Sometimes they were a little different. But I don’t think I can read anyone’s mind.”
“Sasha?” Sam poked his head in and motioned for her to come to him.
“I read to him sometimes.” She grabbed a book from a shelf filled with what looked like mostly medical and homeopathy books, and passed it to Kyla, “This was a book I used to read to you both when you’d come to The Constantin Center. I brought it with me when I left. Maybe you’d like to read it to him? Sam, Tristan, and I can talk? Maybe the sound of your voice will work miracles for him.”
She passed Kyla a colourful hardcover book called Garbage Delight. Kyla began to flip through it, skimming short nursery rhymes. She smiled. Something nagged at her memory but she couldn’t pinpoint it.
She sat on the empty hospital bed beside his and crossed her legs and began reading aloud, glancing at him periodically.
After reading several pages of nursery rhymes, she put the book down and looked at him.
“They tell me I’m your sister. I always wanted a brother. It’d be great if you’d wake up so I can get to know you.”
Nothing.
She put her hand on his hand. He was warm. Maybe a little too warm.
She decided to wander out of the room via the closet and found Sasha, Tristan, and Sam talking in the office that the closet had led to.
Tristan’s eyes warmed when he saw her but conversation halted. It felt awkward.
“Can we get a walk on the beach? I’d love some fresh air,” she said to him.
Her eyes landed on Sam for a beat. He gave her a small smile and he looked guilty.
She gave him a half smile. She didn’t have it in her to hold a grudge, especially knowing he’d helped so much so far. She was glad he seemed to feel the same.
“Which of us was born first?” She asked Sasha.
“He was.”
A big brother. Just like she’d always wanted.
“I think he has a bit of a fever,” Kyla said.
“I’ll check him. Thanks.”
Tristan’s eyes were on her. She grabbed his hand and tugged.~~~“So, what now?” Kyla asked as she and Tristan were sitting on an Adirondack chair on the dock. Tristan was sitting; she was on his lap, legs thrown over the side.
“What now?” he parroted.
“Where do we go from here?”
“There’s a lot to figure out,” he replied.
“List it,” she invited.
“List it?”
“List what we need to figure out. We’ll prioritize that shit together and then decide what to do.”
