Page 101 of Theta

"I need him. Please."

"He should rest."

"I—need—him. Now. Please. It's life or death."

"Alright, okay. Just…" she gestures, both hands pressing palms down. "Riposa, per favore. You are very, very lucky, you know." She points at my gunshot wound. "One millimeter any other direction, up or down or this way or that way, you are taking many, many months to recover, if you live at all. Only by a hair does the bullet miss your colon. If it hits you there…"

I grimace. "Yeah, I'm an ER nurse."

"Oh, so the…woman time package…" she makes an irritated face, I assume as she tries and fails to find the right English word. "For the monthly blood. In your wound.” She pats her side where my injury is. “That was your idea?"

I nod carefully. "Yes."

“Is smart but risky. I would not recommend to do it unless you are having no other possibles."

"Possibilities," I mutter. "Sorry."

“No, no, grazie. I study to be a doctor in the States. The, what is it called? In your state of Minning-soto? Ah, no…Minnesota. The Mayo, this is it. But that was when I was a very young girl, many years ago.” She pats her bun. "Now, I am old. I forget the English I once spoke so well."

"You studied at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota?” I ask.

She nods. "Yes, yes. A long, long time ago."

"I'm from Minnesota. Minneapolis."

"For so a world so big, it is sometimes very small, sì?” She stands, looks down at me. "I will go fetch your young man."

"Doctor?" I call.

She pauses. "Hm?"

"Dante's uncle. How do you know him?"

"Giuseppe?" A tittering laugh. "He is my brother's…ehh…merda. He is the brother of my brother's wife. Whatever you call this."

I frown. “Um. I’m not sure we have a word for that.” I shrug. “Just my sister-in-law’s brother.”

"As you say." She eyes me cautiously. "Giuseppe and me, not always do we look upon things in the same way. He is…well, he is un criminale. But he is family, and he says to me, Lia, I need your help. A young American girl is badly hurt. Of course I will help. But I do not like to know what is happened. There are sometimes questions that have no very good answers, and so it is better not to ask."

"I…I don't trust him," I whisper; it's as much of the truth as I can risk sharing with her.

Lia looks sad. "This, I understand."

"I need Killy."

"Okay. One moment."

She leaves, and a few minutes later, a sleepy, dazed, and in-pain Killian shuffles in, limping and pressing a hand to his side. Hissing, he lowers himself to the edge of the bed, then glances back at Dr. Lia, who nods and closes the door.

I watch the crack at the bottom of the door; a shadow lingers, and I press a finger to my lips. "Hey, babe,” I say in a normal voice. “Sorry to wake you up."

"All good. I was told it was important. Life-or-death."

The shadow fades.

I gesture for him to come closer; he bends over me, wincing. "I overheard Dante talking to Giuseppe," I hiss, my voice a low, breathy whisper.

"That's his name?" Killian asks. "Hadn't heard it."