Chapter 6: The Spare Room

The pump hummed in the dark at three in the morning.

I sat on the edge of the twin bed in Zelda's spare room under the poster of the cat in the spaceship.

Two small bottles filled slowly beside me.

I had carried them to the NICU every day for six days, and I would carry them again at seven.

My incision itched under its dressing, and I could not reach the corner that had peeled loose.

The doorbell had rung twice that evening already.

The first time, it was a delivery of diapers Zelda had ordered.

The second time, it was Doran.

I had heard him say "Hi, I'm sorry, it's late" in the hall, and Zelda say "Stop apologizing, you brought a pot of soup."

He had stood in the doorway of my room holding a lidded pot in both hands.

"My sister makes it," he said. "She's a NICU nurse at Children's. She says nursing mothers eat it by the gallon."

"Your sister knows I exist?"

"I told her about a patient who named her baby after her grandmother." He set the pot down on the dresser. "No last names."

"You don't have a patient anymore. You dropped me at the hospital."

"I like to know how they come out."

He had stayed for an hour.

He sat on a kitchen chair backward in the doorway while Zelda and I ate the soup out of mismatched mugs.

He told us about the worst ambulance call of his career, which involved a goat.

I laughed so hard that I had to hold my stomach.

Zelda laughed too, and then she looked at the clock.

She said she had grading to do in the other room.

She had no grading to do.

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