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T ears came to Julia’s eyes, but she wiped them away. She got off the elevator on the first floor and headed for the exit. Her step seemed to slow of its own volition. She didn’t want to leave the hospital. She wanted to be under the same roof as Gianluca, until he was out of surgery.

She spotted a ladies’ room and ducked inside to compose herself.

She was still getting used to the unisex European bathrooms, with a basin in a common area and private toilets.

She washed her face in the sink, dried off with a section from the cloth towel dispenser, then checked her reflection.

She looked haunted, which was how she felt. She left the bathroom.

She reached a large waiting area near the entrance, in which about fifty fabric chairs were arranged in an octagon, with scattered end tables.

Nobody was there except for a uniformed janitor looking at his phone, his cleaning cart next to him.

Beyond the waiting area was a reception desk staffed by the ponytailed woman who had checked Julia in.

She was about the same age, with pretty eyes and light makeup.

Julia took a seat, flashing on the scene upstairs. She felt mortified by Raffaella’s words, which cut deep because they had a kernel of truth. She couldn’t shake a deeper, newer feeling, of shame. Then she realized why.

You’re not family.

The words had resonated in her chest. She knew the feeling, the close-but-no-cigars of being not-quite-family.

She’d had it growing up. She shared her parents’ last name but she wasn’t of them.

They were on one side of the line, she was on the other.

The line was drawn in blood. Everyone in the surgical waiting room upstairs was Gianluca’s blood relative.

The resemblance showed in their eyes, smiles, and curls.

She didn’t belong there. She didn’t know where she belonged.

She didn’t belong anywhere. She never had.

The receptionist motioned her over with a puzzled smile. “Miss?”

Julia walked to the desk.

“Did you go upstairs? Could you not find the waiting room?”

“Yes, but I decided to wait down here. Maybe you could tell me when he’s out of surgery?”

“Okay. Are you from New York?”

“No, Philadelphia, but it’s near New York.”

The receptionist’s eyes lit up. “Someday I’ll go.”

“We’d be happy to have you.”

“Grazie.”

“ Prego .” Julia smiled, then went back to her chair, sat down, and started praying.

“Miss? Miss?” The receptionist hovered over her, and Julia woke up with a start, realizing she had fallen asleep in the chair. The morning sun was shining through a wall of windows in the front of the hospital. The waiting room was full.

“Miss, your friend is out of surgery and recovery. They have moved him to the GICU, the General Intensive Care Unit. His status is critical.”

Julia felt her stomach tense. “Is he going to be okay? Do they have a prognosis?”

“I don’t know. This is all the computer says. I must go, my shift ends at seven o’clock.”

“Can I see him?”

“You’re not family, are you?”

“No.”

“Then, no. Only family members may visit GICU, two at a time. They have strict rules. Sorry.”

“I understand.” Julia tried to think. “I’ll wait here.”

“No, they won’t let you. It gets too crowded in the morning.”

“But how can I find out how he’s doing? What if he takes a turn for the worse, or the better?”

The receptionist hesitated. “I have a friend on that floor. If you give me your number, I will text you. Don’t tell anyone. I would lose my job.”

“Thank you so much,” Julia said, grateful. “I won’t tell, I promise.”

“Please, go now. My boss will come by soon. You cannot stay.”

“I don’t understand.” Julia looked around the waiting room, which was full. “Why can they stay?”

“They’re waiting for the testing center to open. They need their results before work.”

“Testing for what?”

“Some Covid, mostly drug and alcohol.”

“Really?” Julia asked, wondering.