“What are you, a ghost? What do you mean no one saw you?” She was kind of hard to miss.
She shrugged. “You doctor folk are focused. I spent most of my time floating, looking for ideas for your mother’s mural.”
“It’s not my mother’s mural, so don’t go painting a giant portrait of her just because she is paying you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ve come up with some pretty good ideas. It came a lot faster than I thought it would.”
“Let me see?” I reached for her book.
She hugged it again.
“What?”
“No one is going to see it until it’s finished. I have a process.”
“Jeez, you artists are so emotional.” I backed away.
She kicked her foot against mine.
“Watch it, I just got these.”
“Hey.” She leaned up off the wall, grinning. “You’re wearing them! They fit?”
“I wouldn’t be wearing them if they didn’t fit. How in the world did you know my size, anyway?”
“I was pretty much a tomboy growing up—”
“Shocker.”
She glared at me. “I’m sure you were a charmer as a teenager.”
“Of course. Just look at me.”
“I am—”
“Anyway, you were a tomboy?” I pressed on, before she forgot what she had originally been saying.
“Oh yeah. I spent most of my time with this group of boys from my neighborhood. We all basically grew up together, and we were always barefoot in the rivers. I can kind of guess a guy's shoe size when I compare it to theirs in my head.”
In the rivers? “Where are you from?”
“Cypress, Alaska, home of the best wild salmon in the country.” She raised her head up and nodded.
“Wow.” I couldn’t stop laughing. “Is that really a place? Cypress? Alaska? You?”
“It is a real place, and it’s more beautiful than a city boy like you can handle.” She pouted.
“It is the home of the best wild salmon in the country…I’m sure I could handle it just fine,” I repeated back with a smile.
She got up. “You are such a—”
I cut her off, standing up. “Thank you for the shoes. You didn’t have to say sorry for anything, though your note was funny.”
“Urgh. I ran out of paper, and I didn’t want to bug the nurses any more than I already was to put it in your locker,” she muttered.
“So, that’s how—” I paused when I saw her come through the glass hospital doors. Her blonde hair was done and she wore a straight skirt and light pink blouse. Since her shift was opposite mine, she was most likely arriving to start hers. I had waited around too long.
“What are you looking at?” Guinevere tried to turn around.
I grabbed her sides, holding her in front of me.
“What are you doing?”
“Do you have all of your stuff?”
“Yes, why—”
Taking her by the hand, I kept my head down, trying to make it out the doors before Hannah faced us.
I almost made it, too.
“She’s—” Guinevere stopped.
Damn it.
“Guinevere,” I said to her, hoping Hannah would just keep walking, but luck was never on my side.
She whipped her hair to the side as she faced us.
“Let’s go,” Guinevere replied, allowing me to take her outside again. We didn’t stop until we could only see the distant light of the hospital disappearing behind us as we entered the park. Neither of us said anything, and it took me a second to realize I was still holding her hand. I dropped it.
“Do you feel sixteen?” she whispered, looking up at the sky.
I thought about her question for a second. “Running probably was the least mature thing we could have done.”
“Screw being mature, it’s a pain in the ass anyway,” she muttered. “I forgot that was her hospital, too. You told me, I know, but I forgot. What if I see her?”
“Throw paint on her,” I joked.
She giggled. “That would probably make her feel better…she would think we're even or something. I guess it would be best to do what you’ve been doing—”
“Avoiding? Running? No, I’m tired of doing that.” I really was, but what I found odder was the fact that I was more worried about her making a scene than anything else. It would just be messy for my mother and the hospital.
As we walked silently, I felt like there was something between us. For the first time, I really thought of her as a friend.
“What is it now?” She moved in front of my face.
“What?”
“You have this weird look on your face.”
“Move. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Chapter Nine
A Cry For Help
Eli
Looking to my phone, I stared at the background, her painting of a small boy just standing in the rain, an umbrella broken at his feet.
What is she doing right now?
After thinking for a second, I texted her.
‘Con artist.’
‘I thought we were being civil!’
I grinned. ‘Sorry, force of habit.’
‘Yea sure, Dr. Asshole.’ … ‘Sorry, force of habit.’
‘Are you here?’ I hadn’t seen her that morning.
‘Waiting on supplies. Won’t be there til later. You still at the hospital?’
‘Getting off now. Drinks tonight?’