tray of instruments, sutures, saline, local anesthetic, and a tetanus shot. Izzy had clearly tried to put her jeans on again; the wound had reopened, and was weeping blood. She winced when Roxanne injected the local, but didn’t make any sound. After a few moments, Izzy’s face relaxed, and her eyes opened. “ Ay Dio , I didn’t realize how much that hurt until just now.”
“I’m glad it’s feeling better,” Roxanne said. “Do you, you know, tend to want people to bite you?” She kept her tone light, and was relieved when Izzy laughed.
“No, Roxita. No, I do not like being bitten. At least, not that hard.” She sighed.
“It seems like there’s something else going on, Izzy. Something you’re not talking about.”
Izzy sighed, covered her eyes with her forearm, and was silent for a little while. “Do you ever get the sense,” she said, after a bit, “That there’s more to this world than we know?”
“More how?”
“More everything. More than you can see, hear, smell, taste, feel?”
“Always,” Roxanne said. “Every time we think we know everything, we get a better microscope or a faster accelerator or something, and we see more of the universe.”
“What about more than that?”
“Are you talking about magic? And the work you do?”
She felt Izzy’s eyes land on her with far more weight than the girl’s twenty-three years should have given her.
“You’re not really subtle about it, Iz. And I don’t think I could live here my whole life without picking up a few words of Spanish.”
The weight of Izzy’s eyes didn’t decrease. “Don’t talk about it, okay? It’s not something that’s… well understood.”
Roxanne nodded. “I wouldn’t, Izzy. It’s not my story to tell.” She worked on the wound until she felt the tension fade out of Izzy’s muscles. “Did you know the guy in this room walked out on his own before shift change this morning?”
“Really? He was carved all to hell from what you said.”
“He was.” Roxanne was quiet, trying to find the right words to ask you question. “Could you have—?”
“No,” Izzy said. “And even if I could have, I wouldn’t have. Everything requires balance, nena , everything needs a trade. Even if I could, doing it for a stranger? No . I help people heal their stories. The teas and the sage and the all of that… it’s about fixing their stories so they can be part of the community again.”
“Okay,” Roxanne said. “I had to ask.”
“Sure,” Izzy replied, her tone even and kind. “No harm done.”
“You’re as patched up as I can get you without admitting you,” Roxanne said. “Someone should look at that in the next few days, make sure that it’s healing up right. And you really should be on antibiotics. Promise me you’ll rest the next few days at least.”
“Yes,” Izzy said. “Promise. No more dancing for me. Possibly ever. I’ll be the crazy old lady with all the cats. I’ll get started now so that the colony will be flourishing when I’m forty.”
“Good plan.” Roxanne watched her friend hitch her jeans up carefully. “You’d tell me if there was something going on that you knew about, wouldn’t you?”
Izzy met her eyes without wavering. “Absolutely.”
* * *
She was most of the way through her shift before she had a chance to go to her locker. Once she’d gotten Izzy patched up and on her way, her psych patient needed to be transferred up to the appropriate unit, and she had to write up the chart, take her up, and give report. She was glad she knew everyone on the floor; it made her feel like her purse was at least a little bit safer.
The lockers in the nurses’ lounge weren’t labeled. Everyone had their favorite, but no one got too upset about it. So when she opened the door of the locker she usually used and found an envelope with her name on it, she was more than a
“I’m glad it’s feeling better,” Roxanne said. “Do you, you know, tend to want people to bite you?” She kept her tone light, and was relieved when Izzy laughed.
“No, Roxita. No, I do not like being bitten. At least, not that hard.” She sighed.
“It seems like there’s something else going on, Izzy. Something you’re not talking about.”
Izzy sighed, covered her eyes with her forearm, and was silent for a little while. “Do you ever get the sense,” she said, after a bit, “That there’s more to this world than we know?”
“More how?”
“More everything. More than you can see, hear, smell, taste, feel?”
“Always,” Roxanne said. “Every time we think we know everything, we get a better microscope or a faster accelerator or something, and we see more of the universe.”
“What about more than that?”
“Are you talking about magic? And the work you do?”
She felt Izzy’s eyes land on her with far more weight than the girl’s twenty-three years should have given her.
“You’re not really subtle about it, Iz. And I don’t think I could live here my whole life without picking up a few words of Spanish.”
The weight of Izzy’s eyes didn’t decrease. “Don’t talk about it, okay? It’s not something that’s… well understood.”
Roxanne nodded. “I wouldn’t, Izzy. It’s not my story to tell.” She worked on the wound until she felt the tension fade out of Izzy’s muscles. “Did you know the guy in this room walked out on his own before shift change this morning?”
“Really? He was carved all to hell from what you said.”
“He was.” Roxanne was quiet, trying to find the right words to ask you question. “Could you have—?”
“No,” Izzy said. “And even if I could have, I wouldn’t have. Everything requires balance, nena , everything needs a trade. Even if I could, doing it for a stranger? No . I help people heal their stories. The teas and the sage and the all of that… it’s about fixing their stories so they can be part of the community again.”
“Okay,” Roxanne said. “I had to ask.”
“Sure,” Izzy replied, her tone even and kind. “No harm done.”
“You’re as patched up as I can get you without admitting you,” Roxanne said. “Someone should look at that in the next few days, make sure that it’s healing up right. And you really should be on antibiotics. Promise me you’ll rest the next few days at least.”
“Yes,” Izzy said. “Promise. No more dancing for me. Possibly ever. I’ll be the crazy old lady with all the cats. I’ll get started now so that the colony will be flourishing when I’m forty.”
“Good plan.” Roxanne watched her friend hitch her jeans up carefully. “You’d tell me if there was something going on that you knew about, wouldn’t you?”
Izzy met her eyes without wavering. “Absolutely.”
* * *
She was most of the way through her shift before she had a chance to go to her locker. Once she’d gotten Izzy patched up and on her way, her psych patient needed to be transferred up to the appropriate unit, and she had to write up the chart, take her up, and give report. She was glad she knew everyone on the floor; it made her feel like her purse was at least a little bit safer.
The lockers in the nurses’ lounge weren’t labeled. Everyone had their favorite, but no one got too upset about it. So when she opened the door of the locker she usually used and found an envelope with her name on it, she was more than a
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