Page 90 of Lies and Lullabies
Twenty more minutes crept by without incident. In the best case scenario, Adam would have a successful surgery with no follow-up radiation treatments. “Although radiation isn’t the end of the world,” he’d told me a few dozen times.
Theoretically, this bad dream might be a distant memory by the time the trees on the Common turned orange. If Adam was lucky.
“Kira Cassidy?”
I spun around to find a doctor in the doorway, and I trotted over to her in a big hurry. “I’m Kira.”
“Adam is out of surgery. Everything went fine.”
“Was it contained?” I asked, breathless.
“Yes. No surprises.” She gave me a quick smile. “The tumor hadn’t spread any further than we could see on the scan. So we took exactly what we expected to. And the oncologist will follow up with Adam after he heals.”
“Can I see him?”
“Sure.” The doctor beckoned. “Come with me. He’ll be very groggy, so don’t ask him to make any sense. But you can see him.”
I tiptoed into a recovery room, where three patients lay on gurneys. A nurse hovered, checking IV lines and taking vitals.
Adam lay under a blue sheet, his hands still at his sides, his eyes closed.
I couldn’t help but touch him. “Hey,” I whispered, squeezing his hand, brushing a lock of hair across his forehead. He looked so pale.
His eyes flickered open and then locked on mine. “Hey,” he rasped.
“It’s all done,” I said, my throat closing up. He looked so vulnerable lying here.
“Already?” he squeaked. His eyes seemed to open wider, although his gaze was a little unfocused. “Something wrong?”
“Not a thing,” I said quickly. “I’m just happy to see you. The doctor said everything went fine. No surprises.”
He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. “I want to keep it.”
“Keep what, Adam?”
“My nut.”
I opened my mouth and then closed it again. “Um, what?”
“What do you think they did with it? Put it in a jar?”
I was trying to figure out what sort of response would be the most soothing when I heard a distant commotion.
“Oh my God!” squealed a female voice. I froze, listening for sounds of distress. “Oh my God!” came again. But it sounded more like joy than terror. And wasn’t that odd for the surgical ward?
I was giving Adam’s hand another squeeze when a nurse stuck her head into the room. “Samantha!” She hissed at her colleague. “You know that band Hush Note?”
“Yeah?” her coworker said, looking up.
“One of ’em is out in the waiting room. Get someone to cover for you. Come see.”
“Oh, crap,” I whispered to myself. Jonas washere?
Adam’s gaze swam up to my face again. “If they put it in a jar or something, I could bring it home with me.”
The voices outside grew louder, and I thought I could hear Jonas arguing with someone.
“Just a second, Adam,” I whispered. “I’ll be right back.” After patting my brother’s hand, I dashed into the hallway. I found the origin of the scuffle at the nurse’s station, where a group of women surrounded the desk—and Jonas.
