It was quick. There was at least that small mercy. The staff didn’t seem to care whether Layla or I enjoyed the act. Just that it was done. Like checking off another item on their list of “how to make a straight person”.
Afterward, the staff of Camp Green Hill celebrated their success while Layla and I never looked each other in the eye again. The two of us were still forced to share a room, though thankfully, we were allowed to keep our separate beds. The sheet dividing the room stayed up. It was the only mercy we could offer each other.
I pretended not to hear her crying at night, and she did the same for me.
CHAPTER 8
Auggie
Peter Pan was finished,and I was out of ideas for what to read the next time I visited the hospital. Nothing I already had on my shelves seemed right, and there wasn’t a database for “the best books to read to coma patients to help them wake up”.
Trust me. I’d checked.
Which led to me making some interesting Google searches during my down time at work.
“What’cha lookin’ at?” Roland said, clapping me on the shoulder so hard he inadvertently rolled my chair back a few inches. “You’ve been staring at that screen for nearly half an hour now. I don’t think you’ve even blinked the whole time.”
He grinned at me like he’d just caught me doing something scandalous, until he leaned closer and actually looked at my screen.
“Top fifty books most similar to Peter Pan? What is this? Is it for a case?”
“No, it’s not for a case,” I said as I shuffled my notes out of his line of sight, hoping he wouldn’t see them. “I’m just trying to narrow down some reading material.”
I shouldn’t have bothered hoping. Roland had a bit of a childish personality, but he was also a seasoned detective. He noticed my pile of papers right away and snatched the top page.
“You’ve even taken notes about each book on the list. What are you… wait, is this for that patient you were telling me about. The John Doe burn victim that’s in a coma.”
I grabbed the paper back from him and carefully placed it back in the stack. “Yes, it is.”
“You’re still visiting them regularly?”
There was a change in his tone. It was slight, but I could tell he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity.
“Yeah, I am.” With pointed, precise movements I reorganized my notes until each page perfectly lined up with all the others. “So what?”
Roland sighed and looked around the office with nervous eyes. If we were in the interrogation room, I’d think he was signal for the “good cop” to swap out for the “bad cop”.
“I don’t mean anything by it,” he eventually said when no one came to his rescue. “But don’t ‘cha think you’re getting a bit… invested. I mean, you’ve been visiting this guy—what? Two? Three? —times a week? And you’re clearly planning on continuing. That’s a lot of time and effort for a guy you don’t even know.”
The drawer beside me slammed just a little too hard as I stored my notes away, and my desk shook, sending several pens rolling to the floor.
“I repeat, so what? Yeah, I’m spending time reading to a coma patient, but last I checked that wasn’t illegal. On the clock you can nag me, but off the clock, what I do during my free time is none of your business.”
Taking a step back from my desk, Roland held up his hands.
“Whoa, hey, I’m not trying to tell you what to do. I just want to make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons. You’ve only just moved to this city. This morning, you were saying that you haven’t even finished setting up your apartment. Maybe make sure you’re taking care of yourself first before you’re taking care of other people, all right?”
Foolish. I took care of myself in plenty of ways. I’d been the one to return home when so many other soldiers hadn’t. I was a master at taking care of myself. It was how I survived.
Yet, before I could tell Roland that, the ring of my cellphone interrupted me.
“Where are you?” the voice on the other end greeted me as soon as I hit the button.
“Chantal,” I greeted her even as my gaze immediately found the nearest clock. “I’m just about to leave work for the day. Why?”
“Uh huh,” she said.
Her voice sounded neutral, but I could easily picture the sarcastic look on her face. In all the years that we’d known each other, Chantal had only ever spoken with a neutral tone when she was annoyed.