After getting directions from the information desk, I head toward the hospice wing. I’m assuming to conserve cost and personnel, the entire plaza surrounding the hospital is pretty much a one-stop shop for all your health needs. This includes hospice, which looks like it runs independently from the hospital while still being attached to it.
Walking through yet another set of automatic double doors, I freeze when I see Kaleb standing next to the reception desk. He’s leaning against a wall with his head bent over a paperback, and his brows are gathered the way they do when he’s fully absorbed in something. Instead of his normal polo or button-up, he’s wearing a formfitting, long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. There’s a confusing low flip in my belly from simply witnessing the muscles in his forearm subtly move when he turns a page. Wrapping my arms around me, I blame my shivering on the air conditioning instead of the anxiety that’s making it hard to breathe.
This is the first time in over a week I’ve been able to look at him with his walls down. He’s just Kaleb—the sweet, brilliant boy who loves books so much he smells of paper. He flips another page and his full lips quirk in a half smile. I desperately want to know what he finds so amusing. At the same time, I don’t want this precious moment to end. I don’t want to see the walls go back up when he realizes I’m here.
Come on. Grow a backbone. Can’t fix anything standing here.
Walking over, my spine feels more like jelly than steel, and when I call out his name, it sounds awkward and tinny over the ringing in my ears.
A moment of surprise splashes over his features, before quickly being covered by his familiar blank mask. At least he doesn’t pretend to smile. The fake ones hurt when they’re pointed at me.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he comments, while tucking his book into his back pocket. “Guess I should’ve known better.”
Doing my best to keep my tone neutral, I murmur, “I promised I would,” while my heart flutters at the sound of his deep voice. The way it felt to be in his arms while he read to me is so vivid that I can practically feel the heat of his skin.
Kaleb replies with a noncommittal hum that makes me want to shake him. I’d rather he yell at me than experience this distance that sits between us. Unfortunately, before I can gather the courage to say just that, a man in medical scrubs with a clipboard walks into the reception area.
His smile is bright, filled with a lot of white teeth, and he offers up his hand to shake while inquiring, “You must be the volunteers. Kaleb and…”
“Callie,” I finish, shaking his hand.
Look at me touching strangers and not freaking the hell out. Progress!
“I’m Nate. Wonderful to meet you both,” he chirps, before looking down at his clipboard. “Now, did you have anything specific in mind?”
I shake my head while Kaleb answers, “My parents mentioned that social interactions are important. That sitting with patients, talking, reading out loud, and things like that might be beneficial.”
“Kaleb has an amazing speaking voice,” I chime in, which earns me a twitch of a real smile.
Nate nods his head. “Your parents are right. Not all of our patients have family close by or those able to visit frequently.” He looks up, drumming his fingers on the back of the clipboard. “We have about an hour before we serve meals. I can introduce you to some of our patients. Maybe next time you’re here, we can set something up in the rec center so you can read to a larger audience. If you’re interested in something like that.”
“If you think it would help, I’d be happy to,” Kaleb replies smoothly, giving no hint of how he hates speaking in front of crowds.
“Sounds good,” Nate declares, pulling a pen from his front breast pocket to make a note on his clipboard, then asks, “Ready?”
Kaleb and I confirm we’re ready to go, and Nate quickly leads us down an open hallway that has white linoleum floors and pale, sea green walls. He doesn’t bother to ask if we’d like to work separately, and I don’t bother to suggest it. Having Kaleb stuck with me for the afternoon is exactly what I need.
After a couple twists and turns, Nate knocks on one of the many doors lining the halls before peeking his head in, as noise from a television filters out into the hall.
“Afternoon ladies,” Nate greets with a smile, the epitome of the phrase ‘high on life.’ “I have a couple volunteers from the high school interested in spending some time with you. Feel up to some company?”
There’s a distracted, “What?” that comes from the other side of the door, followed by another voice shouting, “Volunteers! Turn your hearing aids on!” That same voice then states, “Bring them in. It’ll be a nice change from daytime reruns. I know I’m dying, but I didn’t think boredom was the way I was gonna go.”
Kaleb and I both snort as Nate opens the door the rest of the way to allow us to walk inside. The room is the same sea green walls and white linoleum. Two elderly women recline in medical beds with rolling bedside tables off to the side. A beige privacy curtain hangs from the ceiling between the beds, which is currently pulled back and snapped to the wall. Mounted on the opposite wall is a small television that reads, “Mute” in the corner. Both women have nasal cannula feeding them oxygen via the tanks that sit by their bedside.
Standing in the doorway, Nate introduces, “Ladies, this is Kaleb and Callie.” He motions first toward the woman on the left who listlessly looks at us, saying, “This is Ruth,” then motions to the woman on the right and adds, “And this spitfire is Dorothy.”
“Well, aren’t you a handsome young man,” Dorothy states with a wink. “They certainly didn’t make them like you when we were in school—did they, Ruth?”
Ruth blinks at us, her face clouded in confusion, while Dorothy cackles, which then leads to a hoarse cough. “Damn cancer,” she mutters when her cough finally subsides.
Kaleb politely replies, “Thank you, Miss Dorothy,” to her compliment with an awkward smile on his face, then takes a seat in one of the visiting chairs next to her.
“I’ll leave these volunteers in your capable hands,” Nate states with an indulgent smile before giving Dorothy a teasing look. “Behave.”
“Never,” she replies, flashing a mouth full of dentures, then flaps her hand dismissing him.
Nate shakes his head, chuckling, as he closes the door behind him.
