Frank saw Cleo before she saw him. She stood for a moment, anxiously looking up and down the hall. He was struck, once again, by how young she was. She still looked like somebody’s daughter. She caught sight of them and rushed over. Frank remained seated sheepishly. He tried to catch her eye, but her attention was on Zoe. He searched her face for traces of anger or disappointment, but it was calm. Cleo leaned down to greet Zoe, her hair falling forward in a golden curtain that left Frank offstage.
Maybe it was the sensation of relief, then unease, he felt seeing Cleo, but he was reminded of being with his mother. This shame was how he used to feel when she arrived to pick him up from school. She was always late, always annoyed, as though his life was something he’d conceived of to inconvenience her. She did not greet him with hugs or questions about his day as the other mothers and nannies did. It was only when they returned home and the first cubes of ice were in the glass and doused with gin, once she’d sent him to light her cigarette on the stove and carry it to her, that she’d finally listen to his stories about his day, her whole face softening as the gin made its way into her bloodstream.
“Only you could make a hospital gown look so good,” Cleo said. She offered Zoe a tissue for the tear that was sliding down her cheek.
“I’m fine,” Zoe said, ignoring it.
Had Zoe been crying before Cleo arrived? Frank had been trying not to make her feel worse by staring at her. He was so bad at this stuff.
“I brought you a couple of scarves so we can wrap your hair up afterward,” said Cleo. “And I picked up a bottle of witch hazel. I read it will get the glue out gently.”
Frank had never particularly prized kindness in people. His mother hadn’t taught him to, he supposed. He’d always been drawn to characters, people with talent or ambition or a taste for fun. The kind of people who, like Frank, tended to put themselves first. Even with Cleo, it was her intelligence and sexual charge he’d been drawn to; he’d never once considered whether she was a good person. Now, watching her pull scarves from her bag like a magician flourishing handkerchiefs from a hat, he realized he’d been wrong. Fun was fine when you were young, but as you got older it was kindness that counted, kindness that showed up.
“They’re just old samples I did for work,” Cleo said.
“You still working with that brand?” asked Zoe.
Cleo shook her head. “I’m focusing more on my own painting.”
“Nice for you,” said Zoe.
Frank wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw Cleo flinch. Zoe turned to address Frank. “By the way,” she said, “you’ll be pleased to hear I got a new job. It’s this boutique on Christopher Street.”
“The bougie end near Citarella, or the part with all the gay sex shops?” asked Frank.
“Bougie,” said Zoe. “I started last week.”
“That’s great,” said Frank. “Did you find it through one of your school friends?”
“I met the owner at an after-party.” Zoe shrugged.
Frank rolled his eyes at Cleo. Like brother, like sister, he supposed. Cleo lifted her hands and let the colorful bolts of fabric run through them. One was painted with blossoming branches in the style of Japanese ink drawings, another with abstract shapes in electric blue, and the last with crinkly blood-red flowers splashed with shadows. Frank kept trying to catch Cleo’s eye between the swathes of fabric, but her face was obscured from view. He would have preferred if she was overtly angry with him, at least then he would have known how she felt.
“The poppies,” said Zoe. “I suit red.”
“You can keep any you like,” said Cleo.
“Thanks,” said Zoe. “Really.”
And a momentary peace was brokered. The nurse reappeared through the partition.
“Looks like we’re having a party in here,” he said.
“Hi, I’m the sister-in-law,” said Cleo, reaching over to shake his hand.
“How lucky am I?” The nurse beamed. “Two beautiful women here in one day. You two could be models.”
“Well, Zoe could,” said Cleo.
“Not after what you did to my hair,” said Zoe.
“Are we going to talk to an actual doctor any time soon?” asked Frank.
“After the test we’ll have a specialist walk you through the results. Once we’ve done all the hard stuff.” The nurse winked at Zoe. “You guys can relax and chat for the first half or so, but Zoe, I’m going to ask you not to move. And then we’ll do about fifteen minutes of silence to monitor you in a rested state. Sound like a plan?”
Cleo and Frank sat either side of Zoe as the nurse turned on the monitor. Squiggly red lines began to dance across the screen.
“That’s your brain activity,” said the nurse. “Pretty neat, huh?”
“Sure,” said Zoe. “Want to swap places?”
“Oh, when I was training, I went through worse than this,” he said. He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “We used to practice enemas on each other.”
Cleo tried to contain a laugh by holding a scarf up to her mouth but ended up snorting loudly into it. Zoe grinned up at the nurse.
“Sounds sexy,” she said, poking the pink tip of her tongue between her front teeth.
“You two are fucking incorrigible,” said Frank.
The nurse pulled the curtain around them again, and they sat for a moment listening to the beep of the monitor. Frank checked his watch; it was already past four.
“Well, I’m not going back to work today,” he said, putting his feet up on the side of Zoe’s bed.
“Me neither,” said Zoe. “Let’s go get a drink after this, make an afternoon of it.”
“Absolutely not,” said Frank, bolting back up in his seat. “I’m sure that’s what got you here. Is that what you were doing last night?”
“I was kidding!”
“Were you?”
“I didn’t drink that much,” said Zoe, staring straight toward the ceiling. “I felt fine when I went to rehearsal.”
“You had the seizure at the theater?” asked Cleo.
“Were you with that roommate of yours?” asked Frank. “The one that hangs out with the drug addicts?”
Frank had gotten a weird feeling from that girl when he helped move Zoe into the apartment. She had a pet rat, which pretty much said it all.
“She works at a needle exchange,” said Zoe. “That’s a bit different.”
Frank made a noise to illustrate that to him, it was not.
“Anyway, it was horrible,” continued Zoe. “I pulled down the whole backdrop of Antigone’s cave.”
“Antigone’s suffered worse,” murmured Cleo.
“The stage manager brought me here afterward,” said Zoe. “I told him I’d call you.” Zoe picked ruefully at her hospital gown. “I bet my understudy is thrilled. She’s been dying for the part.”
“You brought this on yourself, Zo,” Frank said. “You know you shouldn’t drink on your medication.”
The squiggly lines on the monitor next to her were beginning to move faster.
“Ignore him,” Cleo said. “He’s just being a man about it.”
She rubbed Zoe’s arm soothingly. Zoe, however, was not going to side with Cleo over Frank. She pulled her arm away.
“You’re the one who married him,” she said. Then, unable to resist getting a dig in at Frank too, she added, “Although god knows why.”
“For a visa,” said Frank. “You know that, Zo.”
He shouldn’t blame Cleo, really, for trying to bond with Zoe, but it bothered him always having to be the bad guy. Plus, he was sick of “man” being used as a synonym for “asshole.” To his gratification, he saw Cleo’s eyes snap up with surprise.