I shake my head, pushing aside those thoughts for now, and focus on Josh. How can someone as sturdy as my brother die? He always ate right and exercised. Whatever this is, I’m sure the doctors will find a way to sort it out. To save him.
I pull out the picture of Joce and Cora from my shirt pocket and then turn the overheard light on and study the two identical faces, committing every feature to memory. A sense of completion fills me, even though I haven’t met them yet. Cora’s mouth is quirked up on one side, a smile very similar to mine, with a dimple to complete that mischievous look. Joce, on the other hand, seems unprepared for the shot. She’s wearing a cute little frown on her face, glaring at her sister. I’d imagine that’s how I look when I frown.
My girls.
Putting the picture back in my pocket, I step out of the truck and head for the elevators. I have no idea where or which room Josh is in. I sent a text to my mother earlier today but I haven’t heard from her. The elevator stops on the ground floor and I alight and shuffle to the nurses’ station, counting on being lucky.
A nurse with black hair sprinkled with gray on her temple and crown, simultaneously speaks on the phone and types on her computer. I’m partly relieved. I still have time to get my head straight before I see Josh. I glance around the waiting room, trying to distract myself. Not that I succeed in any way. Seems like everywhere I look is filled with people pacing impatiently or agitated, others gathered in small groups in the waiting area.
Someone touches my arm. I turn around, startled.
“Can I help you?” the nurse asks, blinking at me behind black-rimmed glasses.
“I’m looking for Josh Holloway.”
She eyes me with a little frown marring her features, a look similar to the one I notice on people when they first meet and talk to me. I’ve been told I have an unusual voice. I wouldn’t know, though. I have no idea what my voice sounds like since I lost my hearing when I was five-years-old.
Her gaze drifts away from my face, following the tattoos peeking out from my T-shirt at the neck and then traveling down to my arms. Her lips tighten in disapproval. I really don’t give a fuck what she thinks about me and my tattoos. People can be judgmental assholes.
I hold her gaze with my cold one, until she lowers hers to the computer screen and her fingers fly on the keyboard as a red flush fills her cheeks. Her lips move, but I can’t read them given the angle of her face. She looks up when I don’t answer her back, her mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Sorry. I didn’t catch what you said.” I gesture to my ears with my fingers. Her eyes widen, understanding flooding her face.
“Oh. I’m sorry for that. We have an interpreter--”
I hold up my hand and shake my head. “I can read lips.” She nods and glances down at her fidgety fingers on the keyboard.
Great. I made her uncomfortable. “What were you saying before?” I ask, eager to move away from this awkwardness.
Her head comes up and she smiles. “Oh. Right. Are you family?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “I’m his brother.”
She nods, types on her computer then looks up at me with something close to sympathy in her eyes. “Third floor. Oncology. Room 305.”
My world comes to an abrupt stop.
My head is buzzing. The only word ringing through it is ‘Oncology.’
A hand gently touches my arm again, tugging slightly. The nurse is staring at me, concern on her face. I think she asks me if I’m okay.
No. I’m not. Everything is reeling around me, and the hope I’ve been holding on to since I left New York fades a little.
No
God.
No.
The nurse says something, but I’m already turning around, my feet propelling me forward in no particular direction. I want to see my brother, but I’m scared of what I will find in that room.
How the hell am I going to face him after everything that has happened?
Then I remember Nor’s words in that letter. He doesn’t have a lot of time left.
I thrust my hands inside my jeans pockets and walk toward the elevators to search for my brother.
The room is quiet when I step inside. The curtains have been drawn to keep the light out. A bed is positioned close to the window with a thin form lying on it.
The faint light filtering through the blinds casts shadows on Josh’s face, giving him an eerie look. His body has lost all its former football player physique. Sunken cheeks. Pale face.
Movement from the corner of my eye pulls me away from my brother. I look over my shoulder and suck in a breath.
Nor.
She’s sleeping in a cot a couple of feet away. I hadn’t seen it when I walked in, given the dimmed lighting. Her body is covered with a navy blanket. Pain drums inside my chest as I take her in. She looks so tiny and fragile, curled up with her hair splayed across the pillow. Her cheeks look hollow. Her eyebrows seem to have a permanent frown in them, a look that is both foreign and troubling.
Jesus Christ. She’s still beautiful, despite the changes in her body.