Page 68 of Good Half Gone

“I don’t know any nurses who smoke. Your lighter is inside the pack,” I remind him. I hand him my empty cup so he can toss it.

“You talk shit and then you expect me to recycle your trash.”

“That makes you my work husband.”

He rolls his eyes, but he takes my cup anyway, dumping both in the trash can. I don’t tell Crede that Dr. Grayson offered me a cigarette on my first day.

He gives me another once-over and stands up. “I hate this goddamn ferry.”

He slaps his palm with the pack of cigarettes that is garishly decorated with a rotting pair of lungs. There’s no smoking on the ferry, and even if he tried to sneak one outside, he’d get drenched.

“I’ll be back,” he says. He flips up the hood of his jacket and charges through the doors that lead to the outside deck.

I check my phone. It’s a teacher workday, so Cal is spending the weekend with a friend from school.

His text tone is frantic. Where is the tiny tube of toothpaste!?

After I solve his dilemma and tell him where his duffel bag is, I text Gran. Before I left home, I set her up in her recliner with the iPad. She didn’t have the mobility to type long texts, so I showed her how to use emojis to tell me things. She sends a blue heart and the pointing finger.

Love you too.

I try not to think about how frail she looked, or how thin her hair was, or how I might not hear her saykookamatooever again. My heart aches with sadness.

It’s my first Thursday to Sunday shift. I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to work it with Bouncer,but I see her red jacket as we clomp down the hill. Crede is behind me, and as soon as we walk through the heavy front door, we split off. He powerwalks to the dorms to secure a bunk for both of us while I check my assignment for the day. Next to my name isback of house, next to which someone has scribbleddark sidewith smiley face.

I can feel someone’s eyes on me as I stand examining the assignment board. Jordyn’s secretary, a grandmotherly type with funky glasses, stands uncomfortably close. It’s only the two of us standing here. Being elbow to elbow is quite unnecessary. I notice that she’s visibly shaking. “I can’t find Jordyn,” she says quietly. “Her office is locked.”

I try to think of her name. We are both relatively new. She started a week before me and was still in training on my first day.

Penn!

Behind purple-rimmed glasses, her eyes are owllike.

“Is something wrong?” I ask carefully. She bobs her head in the direction of the admissions office. Looking past her, I see a woman in an unzipped parka pacing in front of the reception window.

Penn stiffens when the woman catches us watching and flips her head back to the board like she’s reading. “Is she coming over here?”

I glance over her shoulder again. “She is…”

“No, no, no—” Penn whispers. I have the feeling she wants to grab me in desperation, but she doesn’t. She leans in and speaks quickly. “Her name is Kyra Hoff. She says her husband works in maintenance and hasn’t been in contact with her for a month.”

“I didn’t see her on the sea bus,” I say.

“She rented a private vessel to bring her here, got here about fifteen minutes before you guys. I’d barely unlocked the office when she came through the doors.She won’t leave until we produce him, and I can’t find Jordyn. Her office is locked.”

The woman, Kyra, closes the distance, and I can see the worry on her face. She’s round-faced and red-nosed, probably around my mother’s age.

“She’s nuts,” Penn hisses right before she reaches us.

“Do you know Adam?” she asks, looking at me. “Adam Hoff.” She reaches into a bag slung across her torso and pulls out her phone. Her hair is wet like she didn’t bother to pull up her hood when she walked from her boat. I watch as she scrolls through her phone, then holds it out to me. A man I don’t know and have never seen smiles from behind dark sunglasses.

I shake my head. “I don’t know him, but I’m new.”

Her face falls, and she’s already turning away to find someone else to ask. Penn wrings her hands, unsure of what to do. Civilians are not permitted to wander around the hospital.

“Give me a few minutes,” I say quickly.

Kyra’s wobbly gaze returns to my face, lip quivering like a child.

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