“How did you know about that A-Fib thing?”
She smiled. “Doctors likes to talk shop at home. Mainly, I think my stepdad just likes hearing the sound of his own voice.” When Kona sat up, an unconscious fidget, Keira frowned at him, like she was worried, like she knew he wanted to dart back to the front desk and ask what the hell was going on. “This place sucks. This situation sucks, but you gotta be cool. But these people are good, they’re here to help. They’re just trying to get as much detail as they can so they know how to treat him.”
He could only offer her a small twist of his head, something vague, something flippant and then he looked toward that curtain, wondering what the silence meant.
Keira joined him, watching the back of that room, his quiet confidant waiting for whatever news would come. Without thinking, he leaned closer to her, liking the sweet brush of her hair on his hand and the way she didn’t move away from him when he needed someone close.
For just a moment, Kona wondered how they’d gotten there. When he left her dorm a few nights ago, he was pissed off at her. That night he hadn’t known how he’d manage the rest of their project without feeling stupid around her. He’d kissed her, thought she wanted what he did, thought he saw something working on her face, something that told him he could have her. But she didn’t want him. She thought he was dirty. She thought he was worthless. Kona’s pride had been bruised and he’d brushed off any thoughts about Keira as soon as he left her dorm. At least he tried to.
But sitting in the ER waiting room next to her didn’t feel awkward. It felt good. She had an effect on him that he couldn’t explain. He’d noticed it once before. The night that asshole tried robbing her. Kona had been seconds from letting the rage building overtake him, lash out until there would have been no return from the violence that begged to escape. But Keira stopped him. Keira settled him, just like minutes before. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to mean anything at all.
“Give me your mom’s number and the nurse will call her.”
Kona was on autopilot. His Nokia was in her hands and he barely blinked. He didn’t care that Keira would see his contacts. He didn’t care that she could read his messages. He just wanted her to keep him calm. And as Keira scrolled through his phone, as she walked to the front desk and gave the nurse his numbers, Kona thought autopilot was a good place to be.
The coffee looked like piss.
There was something floating on the surface. It could have been sugar. Maybe a bug, but Kona kept staring at it, wondering idly how anyone could make coffee look like piss.
“Even people that don’t drink coffee, have it at hospitals.” Keira leaned over his shoulder and squinted at the cup in Kona’s hand. “Except that shit,” she said, taking it out his hands. “Yeah. No. You aren’t drinking that.”
“How long you think it’s been in there?”
The silver coffee pot had a film over the base; a gooey, burnt mess that sizzled when the machine kicked on. It smelled worse than the coffee pouring from it and Keira’s nose bunched up when the red indicator light beeped.
“Since Arthur was just a twitch in Uther’s shorts.”
Kona laughed. The sound surprised him, took the edge off what seemed like days as he and Keira had been waiting to hear from Dr. Michaels. It was the first time his head wasn’t consumed with thoughts of his tutu kane and he looked at Keira, at that disgusted scowl bending her mouth, and he felt grateful.
“Wildcat, you are such a dork.” She shrugged, not bothered by his insult and made for the lobby before Kona grabbed her wrist. “Thanks. You know…” he nodded toward the waiting room and felt stupid, felt raw as he tried to get her to catch his meaning.
“It’s no big deal.”
“It is.” He moved her out of the way of a cleaning woman loaded down with a roll of plastic trash bags heading toward the trashcan next to that stinking coffee pot. He didn’t let go of her arm until they were next to an empty row of chairs. “You calmed me down.” For what could have been the thousandth time, Kona looked behind the windows of the ICU, distracted by the traffic of nurses and orderlies that were still moving in and out from behind the curtain drawn around his grandfather’s bed. But Keira seemed to know when he was worried, when the quiet bustle of whatever was being done to his grandfather had Kona slipping close to the edge of panic.
She touched his arm, tugging his sleeve to direct into a seat. “I’m good in a panic.”
“Shit, I’m not.”