I flipped him off, and his mouth turned up at the corner.
“This is my penance for stealing that other sandwich,” I admitted. “I knew that was wrong and did it anyway.”
“It worked out,” he said. “I had some work to do here. I needed the days off.”
I didn’t bother to ask him what his work was that he needed to do.
I’d heard about the young boy that’d taken his own life.
My mom and dad had been talking about it when I’d left this afternoon to go get some Pepto.
He leaned against the desk next to me, his butt sitting on the papers that were scattered across his desk. His torso only a few inches from my face.
“When did you become a doctor?” I asked quietly.
“Been one for going on thirteen years now,” he answered. “Feeling better yet?”
I nodded, not bothering to lift my head up off my hand.
“You’ll feel better once you get that bag into you, too,” he said. “You’re dehydrated.”
I didn’t doubt that for a second.
The silence was slightly oppressive as the IV dripped slowly into my veins.
And to fill that dreaded silence, I started to talk.
“We moved here because my daughter is sick,” I found myself saying.
He twisted slightly so he could see me. “Sick how?”
I told him about the disease, and he went very still. “She has Rh-null blood?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Her father and I shared a lot of fucked up genes with her. She drew the short straw with us.”
He mumbled something that I couldn’t hear, and then, “Genetics are crazy sometimes. It’s not your fault. How would you have known?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Wendy’s doing a lot better, though. Do you talk to Dr. Pendelton much? I wondered who it was that was donating the blood, but Dr. Pendelton said that the donor wished to remain anonymous.”
“I know him okay,” he said. “He’s very protective of his patients, though, and I doubt he’d share that information even with me.”
I harrumphed. “Dang.”
It wasn’t that I was being nosy or anything. I just wanted to know who was responsible for keeping my child alive.
I felt like I owed them the world.
I wanted to bake them all the cakes. I wanted to pay them. I wanted to shower them with everything that I had to give.
Because they were solely responsible for keeping my child alive. They deserved the world and more.
“I’m sure that they know you’re grateful,” Odin grumbled.
He sounded off.
“I’m more than grateful,” I admitted and found the strength to lift my head to look at the slowly emptying bag. “How long will these meds last?”
“About four hours or so,” he answered. “I have some medication to help with the nausea. Pendelton let me grab some.”
