Page 27 of Threads That Bind Us
But I already know Gwen is more than that, even if it’s difficult to admit. My attention is consumed with what I could do to make her more comfortable in our arrangement during the entire drive to the city. We make a few stops before the hospital, filling a backpack with everything Emily recommended based on her research into DCIS and her deep dive into Gwen and Ana’s spending habits: socks, books and manga, one of those massive reusable steel water bottles, the speciality lotion a bunch of blogs recommended, and endless snacks. The kid eats a shocking amount of Takis and Twizzlers.
Gwen insisted that, for at least the first few sessions, she and Ana commute to the hospital as they normally would. I know it’s to avoid overwhelming Ana, but something about nothaving her in my car sets me on edge. Perhaps it’s my predisposition to hypervigilance. I can’t protect her, both of them, if they’re not near me.
Zane drops me off, handing me the backpack and a thick envelope through the window. It’s colder today than it’s been, the bitter, quick wind biting at my face but soothing my bruised hand. I flex it, allowing the pain to ground me as I make my way through the sliding doors.
I haven’t been to many children’s hospitals in my lifetime, but the odd discord between the cheerfulness of the decor and the worried faces of families milling around the lobby is unsettling. Hot air balloons in multiple colors and patterns hang from bright blue ceilings over people huddled with their loved ones, staring at their phones and glancing at their watches. I can only describe it as surreal as the receptionist at the long check in station waves me forward.
“Hi there, welcome to Children’s National Medical Center. Who are you here to see today?” Her tone is pleasant and professional, but I see the way her eyes flicker over my tattoos, her nose scrunching.
“My girlfriend’s sister has a radiation oncology appointment today, and I’m here to meet them,” I respond, laying the accent on thick. It has its intended effect. I’m not sure why Americans are put so at ease by a Mediterranean accent, but I use it to my advantage.
“Last name of the patient?” She asks, her smile brighter.
I give her Ana’s information, along with my ID, and she prints me a sticker to wear, directing me to the elevator bay after a security guard checks the backpack.
There’s no preparing for the terrifying nature of the child’s voice that announces the elevator isgoing up. It’s like a line from a horror film, and it actually makes me shiver.
When I exit the haunted elevator, there’s anotherreceptionist who directs me down a labyrinth of doors and hallways, all color-coded and animal-themed, until I finally reach the radiation therapy waiting room.
Gwen looks up as soon as I round the corner, and something settles in my chest when I see her.
She gives me a soft smile, and Ana glances up from her phone and waves.
“Hey, Charlie, you didn’t have to come to this,” she says, pulling an earbud from her ear. Despite her words, she seems happy to see me, but from the way she’s glancing between Gwen and me, I think she’s more happy for her sister.
“Wouldn’t miss it. Plus, I heard you might need post-appointment distractions.” I hand her the backpack as Gwen raises her eyebrows at me, but keeps her lips sealed.
“Oh awesome, Demon Slayer!” she nearly yells, pulling the manga out of the backpack and flipping through them. “This is so cool, thank you!” She flashes me a grin that I can’t help but return.
“You’re welcome.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before a staff member in pink scrubs opens the door at the end of the hall and calls Ana’s name. She starts to get up, and Gwen grabs her hand.
“You’re good?” she asks, and Ana nods, only looking a little scared. “You’ve got warm socks? And your playlist?”
“They let me play whatever music I want over the speakers the whole time,” Ana explains to me, leaning around her sister.
Gwen shakes Ana back to her.
“You’re going to be fine, okay? It’s less than an hour.” It’s clear Gwen’s convincing herself more than she is her sister. Ana leans down and hugs her gently.
“First few are the easy ones, save the nerves for when I feellike ass.” Ana pops a kiss onto Gwen’s forehead and takes off toward the waiting tech before Gwen can respond.
She seems to be frozen as she stares at the door Ana disappeared behind.
“She shouldn’t say ass,” she whispers to herself, clasping her hands together tightly.
I bump her shoulder gently with mine to try to loosen her up.
“She probably says it a ton when she’s not around you.”
Gwen rolls her eyes at me, a smile slipping over her lips.
“Yeah, but I pretend that’s not true,” she says, tilting her head back and resting it against the wall. Her eyes are closing when she speaks again. “She’s right. You didn’t have to come. She’ll be fine.”
I consider brushing it off, but the truth is, I want Gwen to realize how much I meant it when I proposed a friendship.
“I think Ana couldn’t care less if I showed up. I’m here for you,” I say, settling back as well, my posture mirroring hers. She opens her eyes to give me a look that's half surprised, half annoyed, before closing them again.