Page 13 of Hidden Nature

She handed it back.

“I’m getting her a pink stuffed animal. I’ll know what kind when I see it. Thanks for sharing something happy.”

“Happy’s the best thing to share.”

“I’ve got one, and it turns out it qualifies. Matias sent me a breakup text.”

“Fucker.”

“No, really, more of a weak coward. No, wait. A weak, cowardly fucker. He said, basically, he couldn’t handle it. Seeing me in the hospital that way made him realize we just weren’t meant to be. Then he asked that I send back the things he had at my place. And he was sending any of my stuff to my parents’ address, since he didn’t know when I’d get back. He topped it off by wishing me all the best.”

“And how’s that happy?”

“I’d planned to see him after I got out of here, tell him we were done, since he was too much of a selfish asshole to spend more than two minutes with me when I was hurt. He saved me the trouble.”

“Give me a list, sis.”

“Joel, I can handle it.”

“Nope. Give me a list of that asshole’s stuff, and I’ll get it to him. I’ll go over with your sister or whoever’s getting what you want to pack up for the couple weeks in Heron’s Rest.”

“I can get all that. They don’t have to—”

“Can’t drive yet, right?”

Annoyed with herself again, she heaved out a sigh.

“No.”

“So why have somebody haul you over there, take the time to get what you need, spend even five minutes on the jerk, when you can get the hell out of here and go home with your family?

“Sometimes you have to let people take care of you, sis.”

“Everyone has been, and I swear under the whining, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re going to have to appreciate it a little while longer. Give me a list.”

“It’s not that much, really. He’s got some clothes in the bedroom closet, and in the top left drawer of the dresser. He’s got a quart of oatmilk and some tofu in the fridge. The milk’s probably gone over by now. I didn’t think of it before.”

“So I’ll dump it. What else?”

As she ran down the list, it occurred to her how completely he’d kept his things—what there were of them—separated from hers. Why hadn’t she noticed that before?

Didn’t matter now, she decided. Chapter closed.

“How about what you want? I can pass it on to your folks.”

“It’s a longer list.”

“I got the time.”

When she finished, she walked Joel to the elevator, then did a circuit of the floor. Maybe she moved slow, but she could celebrate the fact that she moved, and without any real pain.

Discomfort, fatigue, she could handle. Would handle, she promised herself, and made a second promise.

Stop whining.

She slept poorly her last night in the hospital as the dreams dogged her.

---