Page 35 of As You Wake, Break the Shell

Red nodded. He handed Twig the stylus, then a guest pass on a lanyard. “And thank your sister.”

“Thank you, sister,” Twig said as she signed her name on the tablet. She had the audacity to grin at Cora, because of course she did.

Cora rolled her eyes and headed for the elevator, flipping open the box of fries as she went. They’d gone a little cold, but they were still good.

Chapter 17 Signy, Fortune

Drop dumplings were unfair, in a way. You could only eat so many before reaching critical mass, but they were so delicious that despite all better judgment, it was dangerously easy to succumb to the mistake of just one more.

Otto leaned back in his chair with his hands folded over his stomach, his mouth pursed and his eyes closed. He took a deep breath, then looked at Signy. “One more?”

Signy, seated across from him with her forehead resting against her clasped hands in a pose that accurately telegraphed both gratitude and regret, did her best to weigh the pros and cons. She’d forgotten to eat lunch that day, and she’d inhaled everything Otto put in front of her as though it were the best meal she’d had in her life, which it might very well have been. But, tragically, she only had the one stomach. “I can’t,” she said, bowing to reality.

“Me neither,” he agreed. “Time to put the kettle on?”

Signy nodded against her knuckles, and would have remained there if it weren’t for the sound of Otto’s chair scraping the floor. “No, I’ll get it,” she said. He’d been on his feet enough for one evening.

Otto raised his palms in surrender and stayed seated. Signy got up, taking their bowls and spoons with her. As she put the used things in the dishwasher, she noticed a pair of cheaply printed pamphlets on the counter. It was a thrilling pair of titles: Joint and Soft Tissue Injections and What Is Potassium?

“Was Arlo here today?” Signy asked. The neighborhood health clinic’s drop-in nurse, who came by once a month.

“Yesterday,” Otto said. He added nothing further.

“Anything I should know?” Signy pressed. Otto was not the most forthcoming when it came to developments that might affect his medication. It wasn’t that he was forgetful or that he didn’t care; he simply had more things top-of-mind than his own body.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Otto said with a frown. “It seems I’m older than I was at their last visit. And unfortunately, that trend seems to be irreversible. There’s nothing they can do.” He smiled impishly, his eyes twinkling.

Signy’s mouth stayed flat.

“Nothing to report,” Otto assured her.

“Your blood tests are all right? Especially when it comes to, say, potassium?” The blood pressure medication she supplied him with had the potential for decreasing potassium levels, especially at the dose he was on.

Otto sighed. “It was a little low, but nothing to worry about. I was told to eat more peanuts and leafy greens.”

Signy nodded, and set the pamphlets aside. She’d run into Nurse Arlo a few times, when their shift schedule aligned with her dinner plans. She was almost certain Arlo knew what her and Otto’s arrangement was. The last time she’d encountered Arlo, they’d given her a shrewd look, a veiled nod, and a cryptic remark: It’s very good for him, to have a friend like you. Perhaps they’d simply meant it was good for an old man to have company, but Signy wasn’t convinced. Arlo was a good nurse, from what Otto had told her; there was no way they were unaware of Otto taking his “vitamin C.”

Signy had known drop-in nurses like Arlo at her mother’s clinic, back in the day. Always busy, always under-supplied. Her favorite of them had been Cody, a congenial young man who habitually snuck her younger self some of the candy meant for kids who’d gotten their shots. Signy had a vivid memory of arriving at the clinic after school one day to find Cody crying in the break room after a long shift of house calls. Another nurse—an older nurse—had been patting his back with the grave understanding of never having enough tools for the job.

Cody had been an all-purpose nurse, skilled in the sorts of things you didn’t need to crowd a waiting room for—a sprained ankle, a baby with a slight fever, a follow-up after outpatient surgery. But others, like Arlo, were on the end-of-life circuit. Otto wasn’t dying. What he was was over the age of sixty-five, and at that mark, the only care you were legally allowed was comfort. If Otto became sick or infirm or unable to care for himself, he’d be moved into a hospice home and kept out of pain. That was all someone like Nurse Arlo had license to offer, and the logic was not difficult to follow. As always: triage. The pragmatic thing to do, the Primer said, was to prioritize those who had more years ahead than behind. There weren’t many in the city government who opposed that thinking. Not enough to change things, anyway.

Signy understood why that policy existed. She also hated it. Otto was brilliant. Otto was kind. Otto was hilarious, even though Signy would never provide him with the satisfaction of saying so. He was a beautiful man, in every respect. He deserved to live, same as anyone younger. He had not lived past his time. What did that phrase even mean? Was he not still here? Was this not his time?

“Signy, Signy,” Otto said, his voice taking on an almost exasperated air as she filled the kettle to the two-mug line. “Look at that serious face. Always so serious.”

“How else should I be?” she asked.

“You should be having more fun.”

“I have fun.”

Otto scoffed. “Tell me where you go besides work.”

“I like work.”

“So did I, and sometimes I needed to be told to fuck off, too. You need to get out and play.”

Signy shrugged as she fetched the box of chicory powder and the cookie tin from a cupboard. The idea of chasing dumplings with dessert was ludicrous, but Otto could not abide ending a day without a treat. “Work is play,” she said.