Chapter 25
Tana was in the room when the nurse lifted the bandage to look at Gwen’s tracheostomy—and screamed.
No: not a scream. More of a high-pitched shriek.
“That bad, huh?” Gwen asked, sleepily. Tana hadn’t been sure she was awake. Her eyes had opened and closed a few times, but
never seemed to focus on anything.
“No, I—it’s not bad. Not bad! It’s—no, it’s fine! I just want to have—someone—someone look—” The nurse backed into a bedside
cart on wheels, which banged and clattered and startled her all over again. She turned and hurried out of the room.
Gwen shifted her gaze to Tana. “Hey, Nighswander. What do you think she saw under the bandage? I’ve heard about spiders laying
eggs in open wounds. Think there’s a spider’s nest under there?”
“Jesus,” Tana said. “Spiders? You oughta write horra novels, the stuff you think.”
Tana had been sitting on the windowsill. She liked to position herself close to a window if she could, liked to have a view
of sky and trees. In her years with Jayne they kept the shades down throughout the house in case they were under surveillance.
Tana was forbidden even to raise the blinds in her bedroom, which made sense. They often stored drugs under her bed, or money.
Jayne figured if someone had to take a fall, it ought to be Tana. The law was notoriously lenient on teens. Also, when Jayne
traded Tana to men for more time to pay off a debt, the action always went down in there. A few years of that had largely
ruined men for Tana. Men and dark rooms both.
In the years since Jayne died, Tana couldn’t stand to be in a room with the curtains drawn.
She needed the sky. The sight of trees tossed by the wind sometimes stirred in her an almost childlike excitement.
A windy day made her thank God for her life: that she had outlived Jayne, that she had raised her son and known his sturdy kindness, that she had made friends and had at least some sex that wasn’t terrible.
She was looking forward to some not-terrible sex with Allie someday, although for the time being Allison Shiner needed a friend more than a lover.
It had been the most important thing in the world to pretend she had hardly noticed when Allie impulsively kissed her.
After she had a year of sobriety under her belt—a year of building up her confidence and sense of well-being—then, maybe, maybe, she would be able to make a reasoned choice about who she wanted in her bed.
Gwen was watching her carefully. “What do you think is wrong with my throat?”
“Maybe nothing is wrong. Maybe something is right.”
Gwen narrowed her eyes. “You know something, don’t you? What do you know, Tana Nighswander?”
“I know Tom Brady is the best quarterback ever played the game. I know you don’t want to buy the fish once we stick the manager’s-special
sticker on it down at the Basket. I know I’ve bought almost five thousand Megabucks tickets and never won once. Though now
I think it, I did win the lottery once—the day you decided to be my friend. I know I’m not a doctor, but that nurse went to
get one, and I’m as interested to hear what he has to say as you are. And that’s about all I know.”
The door opened and the doctor entered, a skinny woman in Buddy Holly glasses. Her name was Lee. It still surprised Tana when
a doctor turned out to be a lady. When you grew up in Gogan, you didn’t need to be a man to be a chauvinist. The nurse was
right behind her but stayed a few steps back from the bed and stared at Gwen with a mix of suspicion and anxiety, as if there
really had been spiders under her bandage.
“Let’s have a look at how the tracheostomy is healing up, yes?” Dr. Lee said, and began to loosen the bandage.
Dr. Lee came in smooth, but once she had a peek under that bandage, she staggered back into the rolling bedside table too.
It was nineteen days until Easter.