Page 186 of Like a Power Play
Zayda and Lena barrel in next, both wearing their numbered Grizzlies hoodies and balancing paper cups of gross hospital coffee. They nearly spill it over the end of my bed arguing about whether one of them saw Dr. Hughes in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy once. Lena hands me a bouquet of bright yellow flowers, while Zayda pops open my box of Sour Patch Kids and pops a handful into her mouth. They talk about the game, how Ilooked “almost definitively dead” and tie balloons on the railing of my bed. After comes in Indie, then Faith.
As the room clamors, and my mom retreats to the cafeteria(again)because she “needs a fucking break from these monsters”(again)someone else approaches my bed.
Someone I honestly imagined would be the last person to show up.
“Hey.”
Caydence stands awkwardly beside me. She’s clutching a small brown bear wearing a yellow shirt that readsGet Well Soon.Her eyes flick down to it, like she had forgotten she had it, then she places it gently among the pile of gifts crowding the edge of my bed.
“Hey,” I echo.
For a long, awkward minute, she just stands there, staring at the tubes running in and out of me.
Everyone else is preoccupied. Zayda brought her PlayStation and somehow hooked up NHL 21 to the hospital TV. Honestly, it kind of feels like we’re just hanging out in the lounge back at campus. You know, if Caydence wasn’t staring at me like I’m half-cyborg.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” she asks finally.
A hole not unlike the one in my chest sinks deep into the pit of my stomach. My eyes fall to my nervously fumbling hands.
“It’s… complicated. I guess I didn’t want you guys to see me as… broken or whatever.”
Admitting it feels dumb. Especially to someone like Caydence, who already excels at making you question yourself. But instead of proving my hypothesis, rather than moving on awkwardly like she never asked, she says, “We don’t think you’re broken.”
A wet ache wells in my throat, tugging at my vocal cords. She goes on.
“I was a bitch,” she states. Then pauses. “Am. Iama bitch. I know that about myself. It’s not a secret I try to keep.”
The corners of my lips twitch slightly.
“And I’m not apologizing just because you’re all—Winter Soldier.I’ve been meaning to say it. But—” She huffs frustratedly, though I can tell it’s aimed at herself. “I seem to be incapable of doing it like a normal person. I don’t—whatever. The point is, I’m an asshole. And I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t tell us.”
I try to fight the smile pulling at my mouth, only because I know it’ll make this already-awkward momentso much worse. I avert my gaze, toying with the seam of my blanket.
“Thanks,” I manage. Then add, “You know, I’m something of a bitch myself.”
Caydence lets out an airy laugh. “Oh, I’ve noticed.”
Now, it’s my turn to laugh.
“Did you drop a Bucky Barnes reference while apologizing to me?” I ask after a moment.
Her face goes beet red. “Uh… yeah. I guess I did.”
“Huh.” I nod, considering it. “I think I’m going to make that a mandatory element of any future apologies I receive from anyone.”
After a few minutes of discussing the moral nuances of Buchanan James Barnes, Caydence pulls away to battle Bailey on the PlayStation. As my eyes survey the room, I find myself searching for one player in particular. Someone with a stellar wolf cut, and amber eyes. Someone who was the first tomake me feel like this.
Accepted.
My eyes quickly sweep the room in anticipation, like I can will her into existence if I just look hard enough.
Left, right, nothing. Again. Left, right, nothing.
So I slow down, forcing my gaze to drag across every inch of the room. I count each ceiling tile, one by one, until I’m sure not a single corner has gone unseen.
Still, I don’t see her.
That is, until I look back at the door one last time.
