She typed Of course, take care of yourself, then deleted it. She ended up sending nothing. The hospital lobby was colder than she remembered. She sat in the waiting room, hands clasped in her lap, the smell of disinfectant sharp in the air. A nurse called her name eventually, and she followed, her shoes squeaking against the tiles.
When she came home that afternoon, the silence of the house pressed against her like fog. Lisa hadn’t called. Not even to ask how it went. Helen reheated some soup and sat by the window, watching cars roll by. She told herself Lisa was just busy, she always was. But as the hours passed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that “busy” had become an excuse stretched too thin.