the full sink.
Holding his finger to the cut on his neck, he grabbed the edge of the vinyl curtain and yanked it to the side.
Empty.
He found the volume knob on the radio and twisted until the sound was off.
He waited for the urgent murmuring to resume. Feeling too naked, exposed, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
The bathroom was silent, save for his labored breath.
Maybe it was something on the radio, he thought. You just picked up someone talking in the background and thought it was next to you.
First the phantom boy, who didn’t look like any ghost he’d ever heard of, and now this.
After five tense, noiseless minutes, he shook his head and fished around for his razor. He had only ten minutes to get his ass in the car, and zero time to freak himself out.
“Fucking house,” he said, wiping the remnants of shaving cream from his face.
Alice was proud of herself. When she’d asked Louisa the other day to go through every little detail on working the infusion pump and the drain, the information really stuck. She even did it all by herself, under Louisa’s supervision, without a hitch.
“You can teach an old dog new tricks,” she’d said to an approving Louisa.
Which was why she didn’t feel the urgent need to call Brian and the nurse when she heard Cassie’s alarms cry out. Alice was dusting the living room, thinking what to get at the supermarket later, when the first metallic wail went off.
She saw right away that the infusion rate on the pump was off kilter. It had been increased for some reason.
“Damn computers,” she said as she pressed the alarm button off and readjusted the setting.
She was startled when she heard the sheets rustling behind her. Cassandra tossed in her sleep, opened her eyes for a moment, then closed them slowly. Her lips parted and a tiny whimper came out.
“I’m here, honey, I’m here,” Alice said, taking her hand.
She stayed with Cassandra for the next hour, casting curious glances at the pump’s readout.
Guess I’ll have to wait until Brian gets home to get a few things from the store. Don’t want that pump changing its settings while I’m out.
At one point Cassandra drew in a sharp breath, and her hand lifted off the bed and wavered to her mouth. Her head turned to the side and her forehead creased with concern.
Alice smoothed her daughter’s hair and waited for Brian to return.
The Devils season opener gave Brian something light to focus on and forget things for a couple of hours. The TV was still in his bedroom and he settled in the chair next to Cassandra to watch the game.
Despite the changing of the port and the clearing of her infection, she didn’t seem to be getting any better. She’d been awake a few hours earlier and he’d tried to talk to her, but her eyes were like frozen, muddy puddles and there was no recognition of her husband.
When she was in the hospital, even Dr. Stepka had said he was surprised she wasn’t more awake, more lucid.
The sole positive Brian could see at this point was that the mysterious boy hadn’t made an appearance since Cassandra’s return from the hospital. It bothered him that he couldn’t stop from fixating on their child visitor, not when Cassandra’s life was in the balance. Maybe it was the ghost’s , for lack of a better word, own fixation with his wife that kept the wheels churning in his brain.
“Pad save and a beaut!” the Devil’s play-by-play man exclaimed. It shook Brian from his troubled thoughts.
“You should have seen that one, Cass. What a save,” he said.
They were both Devils fans, a pair of nonconformists living in Ranger territory. He tried every season to get to at least five or more games. Cassandra loved hockey, and even more so at the arena.
The score popped up on the screen. Devils 2—Flyers 1. Brian hit the mute button before the commercial started. If he
Holding his finger to the cut on his neck, he grabbed the edge of the vinyl curtain and yanked it to the side.
Empty.
He found the volume knob on the radio and twisted until the sound was off.
He waited for the urgent murmuring to resume. Feeling too naked, exposed, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
The bathroom was silent, save for his labored breath.
Maybe it was something on the radio, he thought. You just picked up someone talking in the background and thought it was next to you.
First the phantom boy, who didn’t look like any ghost he’d ever heard of, and now this.
After five tense, noiseless minutes, he shook his head and fished around for his razor. He had only ten minutes to get his ass in the car, and zero time to freak himself out.
“Fucking house,” he said, wiping the remnants of shaving cream from his face.
Alice was proud of herself. When she’d asked Louisa the other day to go through every little detail on working the infusion pump and the drain, the information really stuck. She even did it all by herself, under Louisa’s supervision, without a hitch.
“You can teach an old dog new tricks,” she’d said to an approving Louisa.
Which was why she didn’t feel the urgent need to call Brian and the nurse when she heard Cassie’s alarms cry out. Alice was dusting the living room, thinking what to get at the supermarket later, when the first metallic wail went off.
She saw right away that the infusion rate on the pump was off kilter. It had been increased for some reason.
“Damn computers,” she said as she pressed the alarm button off and readjusted the setting.
She was startled when she heard the sheets rustling behind her. Cassandra tossed in her sleep, opened her eyes for a moment, then closed them slowly. Her lips parted and a tiny whimper came out.
“I’m here, honey, I’m here,” Alice said, taking her hand.
She stayed with Cassandra for the next hour, casting curious glances at the pump’s readout.
Guess I’ll have to wait until Brian gets home to get a few things from the store. Don’t want that pump changing its settings while I’m out.
At one point Cassandra drew in a sharp breath, and her hand lifted off the bed and wavered to her mouth. Her head turned to the side and her forehead creased with concern.
Alice smoothed her daughter’s hair and waited for Brian to return.
The Devils season opener gave Brian something light to focus on and forget things for a couple of hours. The TV was still in his bedroom and he settled in the chair next to Cassandra to watch the game.
Despite the changing of the port and the clearing of her infection, she didn’t seem to be getting any better. She’d been awake a few hours earlier and he’d tried to talk to her, but her eyes were like frozen, muddy puddles and there was no recognition of her husband.
When she was in the hospital, even Dr. Stepka had said he was surprised she wasn’t more awake, more lucid.
The sole positive Brian could see at this point was that the mysterious boy hadn’t made an appearance since Cassandra’s return from the hospital. It bothered him that he couldn’t stop from fixating on their child visitor, not when Cassandra’s life was in the balance. Maybe it was the ghost’s , for lack of a better word, own fixation with his wife that kept the wheels churning in his brain.
“Pad save and a beaut!” the Devil’s play-by-play man exclaimed. It shook Brian from his troubled thoughts.
“You should have seen that one, Cass. What a save,” he said.
They were both Devils fans, a pair of nonconformists living in Ranger territory. He tried every season to get to at least five or more games. Cassandra loved hockey, and even more so at the arena.
The score popped up on the screen. Devils 2—Flyers 1. Brian hit the mute button before the commercial started. If he
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