Page 577 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Until we’re left behind in the waiting room, where it feels like being stranded in a train station. One where no trains are coming or going.

An hour passes,

and Andrew hasn’t sat once.

He’s on his third cup of coffee,

pacing the wall,

checking his phone every two seconds.

Next to me,

Paola drifts closer in her chair.

“Stare at them.”

My brows jump. “What?”

“The girls behind the counter.

“Stare at them hard, no blinking.”

A half-laugh kicks through my nose.

“Why?”

“I been staring for half an hour. They’re used to me. This needs both our eyes on ‘em. They’ll feel the heat, then they’ll rush. Then somebody opens that door and says, ‘family can come back now.’”

She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “Trust me. Works every time.”

I roll my eyes and stare.

The second Paola turns her gaze back to them, mine returns to the TV in the corner of the room. The volume’s low, closed captions scrolling across the screen under the news anchor:

“Police are investigating after a twenty-six-year-old man was found unresponsive in an alley behind a West Village bar early this morning. Sources say the man had visible injuries, though investigators are also looking into a possible overdose. The medical examiner has not yet ruled on the cause of death.”

To my left, Andrew’s stopped pacing.

His eyes are locked on the TV,

when the door finally swings open.

Paola slaps my knee as she stands. “Look at that. Cuban girl stares, doors open.”

The nurse steps into the waiting room,

clipboard against her chest. “Andrew?”

Andrew’s brows jump, head turning, his hand leaving his pocket as he glances back at me, then at the blonde nurse.

Her attention slides right to him.

And she looks at him.

And keeps looking at him,

gaze falling down his body,