Chapter 6 - My Sister Keeps The Evening Moving
We were still in the hallway when I heard her heels on the wood floor.
The nurse had stepped back half a pace but she hadn't let go of the image in her head, I could tell. Her eyes kept dropping to my left wrist. The strap sat crooked where she'd buckled it loose, and the skin underneath felt hot from air hitting it. I was about to ask her what that mark was supposed to mean when my sister turned the corner.
She stopped. She looked at the distance between us first, then at the nurse's hands, empty now, then at me.
"There you are," she said. Her voice was warm in a way that didn't reach her eyes. The pearls at her throat caught the light from the dining room behind her. "Dinner's getting cold."
The nurse straightened. "I'm sorry. He needed some air and I—"
My sister smiled and cut in smooth. "You're a guest at this table, dear. Not on shift." She put her hand lightly on my right arm, her fingers cool through my suit. "My brother has people who look after him."
It landed hard. I saw the nurse's jaw tighten, but she didn't argue. One of the men in dark suits had moved to the end of the hallway, not close enough to hear, just close enough to be seen. Watching.
I should have said something then. I felt it in my chest, that pull to stay where I was and finish the conversation. But the plates were waiting, the glasses, the whole room behind my sister holding its breath. I'd made scenes before. I knew what they cost.
"We were just talking," I said. It came out weaker than I wanted.
My sister squeezed my arm. "Then let's talk at the table," she said. "Come on."
She led me back in. Her grip wasn't hard, but it didn't leave room. The candlelight hit the long dark table again, the gold rims around the plates throwing little circles of light. Everyone else was seated, pretending they hadn't been staring at the doorway. The air smelled like roast and melted wax.
My place had been reset. My water glass was full again. But the chair to my left, where the nurse had been sitting, was empty. Her plate was gone.
I stopped. "Where's—"
"Sit," my sister said quietly, just for me. She nodded toward the far end, past the candles. The nurse was being shown to a chair down there, between two older men I barely knew, her white scrubs bright against all the dark suits. She glanced up at me once, then looked down at her napkin in her lap.
A server pulled my chair out. I sat because standing there would have made it worse. My sister took her seat across from me now, not beside me, where she could see both me and the nurse if she lifted her eyes.
"Eat," she said to the table with a little laugh. "Before it all goes to waste."
Conversation started up again, forced at first. Someone asked about the foundation dinner next month. Someone else poured wine. I picked up my fork with my right hand and kept my left hand low, under the edge of the table. The loose watch slid with every small move.
From the far end I could feel the nurse watching. Not staring. Just checking, the way she'd checked my pulse earlier, like she was counting something.
My sister caught my eye and smiled. "You look tired," she said. "We'll get you home early."
May you like
I nodded. I cut into the food I didn't taste. Under the table I pressed my thumb against the edge of the strap to keep it from moving, and I kept thinking about what she'd said in the hall. Not on shift. As if concern only counted if you were being paid for it.
I didn't look down the table again. I didn't have to. The distance was the point.
