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I opened the email.
I scanned through the body of the text, my mind stuttering over the wordscongratulationsandyou’ve been chosen to be a contestant.In what world did this make any sense? I read through it all again, this time more carefully. It had nothing to do with Layana, and they one-hundred-percent were inviting me to be on their show. It made zero sense.
I sent Layana a quick text.
Any news yet?
Not yet. I’ve been refreshing my email every ten seconds and answering phone calls
I’m sure you’ll hear back soon
I sure hope so, but I won’t count on it. Sometimes the rejections are immediate. Sometimes they take time, or they never call at all
Please don’t letthat be the case this time. A fresh pang of guilt piled onto the mountain that was already crushing my lungs.
How’s it going at the hospital?
Same
Booooo
I smiled at my phone.
“Visiting hours end in fifteen minutes,” Julie said.
“But I haven’t gotten a chance to actually visit,” I said.
“Did you concoct a patient name over the last ten minutes that I can check for you?”
I blinked, surprised by her sudden sass.
“John Doe,” I said.
“Visiting hours end in thirteen minutes.”
I grumbled under my breath, careful not to let her hear me. I couldn’t in good conscience leave this hospital until I knew that the man I’d hit was going to be okay, and until I had the opportunity to apologize to him. But, my sit-around-and-hope-he’d-walk-through-those-doors plan wasn’t working. Neither was my badger-the-receptionist backup plan.
The clock was ticking, and I was out of good options. It was time for drastic measures.
I faux yawned and did a little stretch. Then I headed slowly in the direction of the bathrooms, like it was the normalest thing in the world. Once I was out of sight of the reception desk, I pressed theopenbutton by the main hospital wing doors, incessantly.
Yes, I knew it needed a keycard, having watched other people come and go before. And no, I didn’t have one, but it couldn’t hurt to beat the button over and over just in case that worked, right?
When it didn’t work, I spared a final glance at Julie.
“I’m not letting you in,” she said.
Unperturbed, I told her, “I know.”
I headed outside. It was dark and quiet. With no other option, I strolled into the emergency area—which did not close at nine—grabbed my stomach and stumbled toward the counter. I put on my best tortured expression and groaned in mock pain.
The inner doors that led deeper into the hospital were open over here, and the area was much more bustling. I couldn’t believe I’d wasted so much time trying to get through the lobby.
“Ugghhhh.” I wasn’t the best actor, but I’d spent a lot of time in the theater, so I wasn’t the worst actor either. I’d also spent a quarter of my post-puberty life suffering from crippling menstrual cramps, so that was an easy state to mimic.
The man at the desk glanced up at me. He was significantly younger than Julie, and his eyes lacked the suspicion hers held. “Do you need a wheelchair?”
I drew my brows harder together and nodded.
