Neighborly(67)

But I hope not. She’s just a little baby. She doesn’t deserve to pay for the sins of her mother. The problem is, it doesn’t work that way. The innocent feel the pain, and evil walks free all the time.

There are only two chairs. One is hard-backed, and the other is the upholstered type that converts into a bed, albeit a pretty uncomfortable one. Doug jumps up from the hard-backed chair, realizing that he’s forgotten his manners, but there’s something phony in his gentlemanly gesture.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he says to me. “Stay awhile, since you came all the way down.”

“It’s not far.”

“Well, it was really nice of you anyway.”

“I’m supposed to report back,” I say. “Tell the others what you need, so we can organize. How long is she going to be here, do you know?”

Katrina shakes her head sorrowfully.

“Could we start bringing some meals?” I offer.

“We don’t need anything.” Her voice has gone cold. It’s unnerving, how she flits between spacey and penetrating. I’m not sure if it’s that she doesn’t trust me, specifically, or that she doesn’t trust an emissary of the AV. I can understand that. The notes have gotten a little more menacing. At this point, I have to speed things up. I can’t take this much longer. That’s why I had to come here.

“Some food would be nice,” Doug says. Katrina turns to glare at him. “Well, you need to eat, and I need to eat.” Doug’s tone is defensive. Something’s going on between them, clearly. They haven’t really looked at each other the whole time I’ve been here.

“I don’t want anyone coming here.” Her tone is absolute.

“Kat—” Doug begins.

“I said no.”

Now they’re looking at each other, all right. I’m curious to see which one of them will back down, and when it’s Doug, I have the strangest reaction. I actually think, Good girl, Katrina. Like I’m rooting for her. How insane is that?

“Just think about it,” I say. “After I leave, you can text me. I’ll make myself available every day.”

“That’s really kind of you,” Doug says.

Katrina says nothing. She’s looking at Sadie, her eyes brimming with tears.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Doug is on the balls of his feet, all nervous energy. “I need a walk anyway.” Turning his head—but not his eyes—in Katrina’s direction, he says, “Remember, my parents will be here soon.” There’s a strange warning in it. Then he slips out.

“You said you don’t want anyone here,” I say. “I totally respect that. Should I clear out?” I need to get her permission. That’s critical. She needs to think my presence is, on some level, her idea.

It’s kind of handy, wearing the mask and gown. I won’t have to do that much acting. Plus, it makes it much less likely that she’ll (finally) recognize me.

“Do you want me to go?” I ask again.





CHAPTER 23

KAT

I can’t believe I’m hesitating. She really should go. I can’t trust her; I can’t trust any of them.

But I can see that she’s really hurting for Sadie. And I’m just so fucking alone here.

Crisis supposedly brings some couples together. That’s not how it is for Doug and me. We’re sitting together behind the hospital curtain with no privacy, so I can’t ask him why he’s acting this way. So distant. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he blames me for Sadie’s illness.

I blame myself. I should have gotten her to a doctor sooner. I should have known she was sick. More time could have made a difference.

They don’t even know what the infection is. They’re still waiting for more cultures to come back, and while it could ostensibly be good news that the ones so far have been negative, it means we’re currently in the unknown. She’s had vomiting and diarrhea, symptoms of jaundice and anemia, but they can’t treat the source. They can just make her more comfortable and give her fluids.

The rule is that only one parent can sleep by her side, and since I’m pumping milk, I’m the obvious choice. Doug slept in the waiting room last night. I was left alone here with Sadie and the industrial-strength pump that takes half the time. I couldn’t even hear it over all the other hospital machines. I cried the whole time. She’s not drinking it. The bottles are going in the floor refrigerator while fluids enter her little body intravenously.

I haven’t mustered an answer yet when a new doctor comes by. He’s short, wiry, and hairy. He could be my savior, Sadie’s savior, so I pump his hand and tell him just how happy I am to see him.

“My husband just stepped out,” I say. “I can get him back really quickly. Can you wait? Or can you come back?”

“This will only take a minute,” he responds. It’s true, his physical exam is incredibly brief, and Sadie sleeps right through it. I can hardly watch. It’s like she’s unconscious, like she’s dead.

Please, please, let us be on the right side of the ledger.

The doctor smiles and says, “She’s looking better.” I don’t see what he sees, though I wish I could. He tells me that her last blood pressure reading was normal, and her fever is well controlled. “All good signs.” He looks like he wants to wrap this up quickly, like he wishes he were doing wind sprints rather than practicing medicine.