Honey Girl(25)

“And then he said, ‘It’s not your work’ and it was so goddamn condescending. I just sat there and let him say that to me.” Grace groans, turning her head into Ximena’s lap. “I know it’s not my work, but my work is keeping me up at night.”

Ximena hums. It’s nearing 10 p.m. and the hospital, this part of it anyway, is quiet. Ximena’s in her lavender scrubs and ugly, comfortable shoes, and she’s the best person for a good hug. “He’s your dad,” she says simply. “Parents are weird. Our parents were taught that they couldn’t stop. If they worked hard enough, twice as hard even, things would work out. It’s hard to fight them on that, you know? They think they’re right, and we think we’re right.”

Grace relaxes at Ximena’s reassuring smile. They’re out of the way, tucked in a corner of one of the waiting rooms. It’s empty except for them and an old woman who’s sleeping with her chin tucked into her chest. She looks like she’s been here for hours.

“I’m not keeping you from work, right?” she asks again. “I can leave.” Grace really, really wants to stay.

Ximena snorts, but she doesn’t move. “We both know you wouldn’t leave. You would mope around until Agnes came, and then you’d be griping at her.”

“Yeah, so?”

She flicks Grace on the forehead. “You’re not keeping me from work,” she says for the third time. “Room 542 told me I was ‘in too good of a mood’ and sent me away, so I’m free for another eight minutes.”

“Good,” Grace sighs. “That means you have eight minutes to commiserate about how Colonel was wrong. Let’s get to it.”

Ximena is silent, and Grace looks up to see the hesitation on her face.

“Ximena,” she says. “I’m waiting.”

Ximena blows out a breath. She checks her watch, because she’s responsible and efficient and wears a watch, and glances down at Grace. “I know you and Colonel have your issues,” she starts slowly, “and normally you know I would say he’s being too much.”

“And how is this different?”

Ximena shoves her curls behind her ear in frustration. This close, Grace can make out the brown freckles that splatter over her nose and cheeks and brown skin. “He was wrong to dismiss you for needing a break,” she says. “Because it’s true, Porter, you need a fucking break. You think we all can’t see that?”

Grace tenses, and Ximena smooths a hand down her back. “I don’t need a break,” Grace insists. “I just think having one would help clear my head. Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Ximena says, “I think maybe you should think about where he’s coming from. He’s always worked so hard, and he taught you to do the same. Maybe he sees you staying in Florida with your mom for a while as running away from the problem.”

“But it’s not running away.”

“It’s not,” Ximena agrees. “I’m not saying he’s right, Porter. I’m just saying maybe you need to make him see your perspective. Maybe get your mom to help. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

Grace squeezes her eyes shut.

“Not right now,” she says to Ximena. “I feel like I’m falling apart as it is.”

“Okay,” Ximena says. Her voice is calm and even. “I’ll drop it.” She looks at her watch again. “I should probably go anyway. I have a new patient. Apparently, she has grabby hands.”

“Really?” Grace asks. “I mean, I couldn’t blame her. I have one of the hottest best friends in town.”

Ximena shakes her head with a small, teasing smile pulling at her mouth. “Maybe it’ll be a welcome change from those horny-ass teenagers who ask me to read them porn. Like, fuck off, Timothy.”

That startles a laugh out of Grace, loud, cackling and inappropriate in a hospital waiting room. It frees up some of the black sludge in her chest.

“There you are,” Ximena says softly. “There’s my girl.”

“Here I am.”

They maneuver up, and Ximena leaves her with one last kiss, buried in her hair. “Agnes should be around soon. You know she likes terrorizing the staff while she waits for me to get off work.”

“That sounds right,” Grace says. “She was a menace when she was stuck in here.”

Ximena huffs. “She’s a menace now. Don’t leave before you see her, okay? Promise.”

She holds out a pinky that Grace takes easily. “I promise. Love you so much it hurts.”

“Love you, Star Girl.”

Ximena walks away. The nurses leave Grace be because she’s familiar enough to them now. She closes her eyes and envisions a timeline where it succeeded, the compromises she made to keep Mom and Colonel and herself happy. Where following her dreams didn’t feel like so much endless, uncertain work.

She comes back to herself when Agnes slinks into the waiting room. It’s late, and it looks like she’s been asleep since she got off work nearly six hours ago. Her scarlet beret is impossible to miss, as is the relieved groan she lets out when she sees Grace.

“God, I thought you were on the fourth floor, not the fifth. I was looking for you for, like, ten minutes.”

Grace gives her a weak smile. She’s tired. She tries anyway.