Page 43

Brooklyn

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

I enter the room, which looks a lot like the one I was in when I woke up from my coma, and feel my heart sink at the sight of the gray-haired woman lying there in a sleep that, according to Athanasios, has lasted for years.

I was surprised to learn that he has a special connection with a particular patient. Athanasios seems so closed off to the rest of the world, only showing emotion in rare moments. But when he talked about this woman, his face hardened in a way I had never seen before. Her condition moves him somehow, and that alone has captured my interest.

"You really have no idea what caused this?" I ask softly as I approach the bed, but I regret it seconds later. "No, wait. Don’t tell me now."

"I can’t say for sure, but given her injuries, I have strong suspicions. Why did you ask me not to tell you now?"

"Because maybe she can hear us, like I could when I was in a coma, and I don’t want her to feel sad."

"The chances of her hearing are very slim," he says, without elaborating further.

I run the back of my hand over hers. Her skin is so thin, almost like parchment paper. "How old is she?"

"Sixty," he says without hesitation.

"She looks older."

"I don’t believe her life was easy."

"Okay. As I said earlier, I don’t want her to hear us talking about sad things. Can I try something?"

"What?"

"Do you have a comb?"

He looks at me, taking a few seconds to understand what I’m planning. Then, without a word, he leaves the room and returns in less than two minutes. "It’s a disposable one. We have some essentials kits for patients’ companions."

I take the comb out of the packaging. "Sit down. This is a girls-only conversation now. Does she have a name?"

He hesitates again. "She does, but you can’t tell anyone. Not even your family."

My jaw drops in surprise, but I nod.

"Her name is Kassia." He says nothing more and steps back, sitting in a chair in the corner. I can feel his eyes on me the whole time.

"Hi, Kassia, my name is Brooklyn Foster . . .”

I begin "talking" to her, explaining that I was also asleep like her, silently praying she can hear me.

After about ten minutes of telling her what happened to me and how Athanasios brought me back, I finally gather the courage to do what I came here for.

"I hope you don’t mind, Kassia, but I’m a hairdresser. I have a plan for when I go back to work. I want to visit nursing homes and patients like you to give them a makeover, especially women. Men don’t understand how a good hairstyle can completely change our mood."

A few minutes later, I look at my work, satisfied.

Her hair is long, more white than black, but after combing it, I notice she looks a little younger than I initially thought.

I glance back at Athanasios, and he’s watching me so seriously that I’m confused.

I walk over to the chair and offer him the comb. He doesn’t make any move to take it.

"What’s wrong?" I ask.

"You said you wanted to visit patients like her. Would you come here sometimes? Maybe I’m doing everything wrong. That’s why I can’t bring her back."

My heart tightens.

Athanasios, insecure?

Instead of answering, I offer him my hand. "Let’s leave the room. As I said, there’s a small chance she can hear us."

He gets up, but before leaving, he checks all the machines. Then he follows me outside.

"Are you sure you want me to come here? I don’t even know if it makes any sense or if it’s effective."

"I want to try everything."

"Why?"

"Because I’m failing."

I hug him. "You’re not. You’re the best at what you do. Maybe she’s just not ready to wake up yet. I’ll come visit her. Just make sure to let the reception know or give me a badge. I don’t know how this works. Actually, you told me I can’t tell anyone her name."

"No, you can’t. When you come, you’ll need to say you’re here to see Mrs. Rosalia Brown."

"Rosalia? That’s the name you use for her? Very different from her real name. Kassia. By the way, what’s the origin of Kassia? I’ve never heard it before."

He kisses my forehead.

"Greek," he says simply.

About half an hour later, I’m sitting in Athanasios’s office, waiting for him.

Coincidentally, as we were leaving, a nurse intercepted us to say there was an emergency. A newborn who had just undergone surgery suffered a cardiac arrest. I watched, fascinated, as he transformed into the cold, efficient surgeon capable of making quick decisions.

He asked me to wait for him and explained that if it took too long, he’d send someone to let me know so the driver could take me home.

I’ve used the time alone in his "domain" to look around his office carefully. I’ve been here once before since we started dating, and well, let’s just say the desk was put to good use.

A shiver runs through me as I remember how he sat in his chair, pressed me against the desk with my legs spread, and devoured me like I was his favorite meal.

I’m so lost in my erotic memories that I jump when the door opens.

I was sitting with my back to the entrance, so I stand automatically, thinking it’s Athanasios or a nurse sent to tell me what to do. I’m surprised to see it’s a woman. By her appearance, she seems to be a doctor too.

Her hair is cut into a shoulder-length bob, she’s slim and tall, and I estimate she’s over thirty.

"Hello," I greet her. "Athanasios isn’t here."

"I know. It’s you I wanted to talk to."

I look at her, certain she’s confusing me with someone else. "I’m not a patient. I’m . . .”

She looks me up and down. "I know who you are, Brooklyn: the woman who came to mess up my life. A usurper who stole my boyfriend."

"What?"

"I’m Dr. Febe Georgiou."

"I don’t understand," I say, trying to stay calm but feeling irritation rise within me.

This woman just called me a usurper!

Was she his girlfriend?

"You will understand. My family and Athanasios’s have known each other our whole lives."

"And?" I ask, throwing manners out the window.

"We were supposed to get married. That was the plan."

I feel like laughing. I can recognize a jealous woman when I see one, and this one isn’t even trying to hide her bitterness.

"Really? Does he know about this?" I ask sarcastically, because from what I know of my boyfriend, he’s not the type to sit around waiting for things to happen. If they’ve known each other their whole lives, as she claims, and Athanasios were interested in marrying her, he would’ve made a move by now.

"Don’t be insolent. Of course he knew. But men need to have their fun before they commit."

My smile widens.

Yep, this one’s really delusional.