Chapter 12 #2
“Like a rally!” Bobbie pushed her bright orange glasses up on her nose. “We only have a month until the election. We need to do something noisy. We could have music and food, and Sierra can speak, and we’ll get everyone excited to vote!”
“That’s a wonderful idea, but I think there might be some logistical concerns,” Anya said gently.
“Like who’s paying for it,” Trish scoffed.
“We could get restaurants to make donations!” Bobbie suggested.
“The thing is, rallies don’t really win elections,” Anya explained. “Especially not low-turnout local elections. I think we’re better off focusing our money and energy on talking directly to voters.”
Bobbie frowned. “Why do campaigns all have rallies if they don’t help?”
Another volunteer, Gloria, hit Bobbie on the arm.
“We should listen to Anya. She ran a Senate campaign last year!” Gloria said with a tone of reverence. “The United States Senate.”
“Didn’t she lose that campaign?” Trish threw Anya a pointed look.
“I’m here, I’m here, sorry I’m late!” Dr. Cheng came in, huffing from her walk up the stairs.
Dr. Cheng was in her early seventies, a stout woman with short salt-and-pepper hair and broad features who only ever wore jeans, rubber sandals, and some combination of a short- or long-sleeved T-shirt and a Patagonia vest, depending on the weather.
She was kind and no-nonsense; Anya could well imagine that she was exactly the sort of person you’d want by your side while you were having a baby.
“Anya says we can’t have a rally.” Bobbie looked dejected.
“Makes sense.” Dr. Cheng nodded. “It’s summer—half the people there would be tourists who can’t even vote.”
“I didn’t think of that,” Bobbie said solemnly.
“Anyway, I’ve got good news!” Dr. Cheng sat in the chair beside Anya. “PeaceHealth said we could put a stack of flyers on the front desk.”
“PeaceHealth?” Anya asked.
“The hospital on San Juan—only hospital in the county,” Dr. Cheng clarified. “It’s a twenty-minute walk from the ferry. You could go over this afternoon.”
“Oh.” Anya nodded slowly. “I was going to take a shift on doors, but—”
“You knock enough doors.” Dr. Cheng waved her hand dismissively. “Go take a nice ferry ride, have dinner by the harbor.”
“She could go to Duck Soup!” Gloria perked up. “Or Downriggers!”
“Do you want to go, Gloria?” Anya asked. She didn’t know why she suddenly felt anxious.
“And walk up that hill from the ferry?” Gloria wrinkled her nose. “Get real.”
“Do you mind, Anya?” Dr. Cheng looked puzzled.
“Of course not.” Anya smiled. “I’ll go downstairs and run off some flyers right now.”
Text message transcript: Anya Katz and Gabe Hunt
July 14
Gabe [5:17pm]: It’s Wednesday, and today I sat in traffic for an hour to go eat hand-pulled noodles in San Gabriel Valley (a place that is not my namesake, though the noodles were so religiously good I could understand the impulse to name your child after them).
On the way back, I stopped at the Huntington to walk through the cactus garden, which was prickly.
It made me feel soft. I hope there are really good noodles where you are.
Anya [5:33pm]: Hey. I’m actually in the hospital
Gabe [5:33pm]: What happened? Are you okay?
Anya [5:34pm]: Yeah, it’s nothing. It was stupid
Anya [5:34pm]: I was here to drop off flyers, and it was a big walk up a hill from the ferry
Anya [5:35pm]: It was warm out, and I hadn’t eaten, so I was feeling kind of out of it when I got here
Anya [5:35pm]: I guess I passed out and hit my head?
Anya [5:36pm]: (Convenient that I was already in a hospital)
Anya [5:36pm]: Anyway I’m completely fine, it’s only a bruise. They gave me a hydration IV and now they’re making me sit here for a few hours to make sure I don’t have a concussion
Gabe [5:40pm]: I just got off the phone with Sierra, she’s on her way to you now
Anya [5:41pm]: What?! No!
Anya [5:41pm]: I don’t want to worry her!
Gabe [5:41pm]: She’s a doctor, An
Gabe [5:42pm]: She wants to make sure you’re okay
Anya [5:42pm]: Gabe no. I’m fine, seriously
Gabe [5:43pm]: Despite your years of medical expertise, she’d like to see you herself
Gabe [5:43pm]: Also, she doesn’t think you should take the ferry alone, let alone drive yourself back to her house, and I agree
Gabe [5:44pm]: She should be there by 8
Gabe [5:45pm]: Is there anything else you need? Is the food disgusting? Should I send some takeout for dinner?
Gabe [5:45pm]: Or I can tell Sierra to pick something up on her way?
Anya [5:47pm]: The food here is fine
Gabe [5:47pm]: Uh huh
Gabe [5:47pm]: I’m sending pizza
Anya [5:48pm]: Gaaaaaabe, this is too much
Gabe [5:48pm]: Sssshhhh, you rest now
Gabe [5:49pm]: What floor are you on? I’m gonna call the nurses station and be charming until someone brings you a ginger ale
Anya [5:50pm]: Third floor
Anya [5:50pm]: You’re still insufferable
Gabe [5:50pm]: Yet you’re still suffering me
When Dr. Cheng arrived, she insisted on going over all of Anya’s test results herself before agreeing to let Anya leave the hospital. Anya had to admit, it was nice having someone there who knew the doctors and staff, who took care of getting a cab back to the harbor and the ferry tickets home.
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Cheng eyed Anya as they stood on the ferry deck, watching the sun dip below the mountains.
“Fine, really,” Anya said for what felt like the millionth time. “Just tired.”
“Hmm.” Dr. Cheng sounded skeptical. “You’ll sleep in my guest room tonight. I want to keep an eye on you.”
Dr. Cheng’s late wife, Lois, was an artist, so their home was strewn with handmade bowls and candlesticks, the walls all covered in paintings—tiny watercolors of wildflowers, giant oils of crashing waves.
The guest cabin had been Lois’s studio, so it was open and bohemian, full of light.
The main house was cozier, with woven blankets and rogue dog toys everywhere.
The hounds were overjoyed to see Anya, as always.
No matter whether she’d been gone five minutes or a day, they always seemed to find it equally miraculous that she’d returned.
“Hey, guys.” Anya crouched down, and they bounded over to lick her face.
“No jumping!” Dr. Cheng admonished. “Anya had a hard day.”
The hounds looked at Anya seriously, seeming to understand, and proceeded with gentle sniffs and kisses.
Dr. Cheng made Anya eat another slice of the pizza Gabe had sent and drink two full glasses of water before she allowed her to retire to the guest room, which was barely bigger than the full-sized bed inside it.
It had been hours since Anya’s fall, and she’d exhibited no signs of a concussion, so there was little reason to worry.
She was happy to be down the hall from Dr. Cheng all the same—even if the feeling of being looked after did squeeze her heart in slightly the wrong way.
As she crawled into bed, she tried not to think about the hospital—the beeping sounds, the antiseptic smells.
She pushed open the window next to the bed; it was chilly outside, but that was okay.
She focused on the scent of pines, the water lapping gently at the shore, and her own breath, in and out.
Even the slight pain throbbing from the bruise on her right temple was good; it kept her in the here and now.
She sank into the mattress, and her eyes felt heavy.
When she woke up, it was already past ten, and the room was filled with sunlight.
She could hear Dr. Cheng cooking downstairs, banging about with pots and pans and listening to the same oldies station she always had on the radio.
The house smelled incredible—like coffee and bacon—and Anya’s stomach gave a low growl.
The bruise on her head still smarted, but otherwise she felt much better than the previous night; the long sleep had done her good.
Anya pulled on a hoodie and padded downstairs, preparing for a barrage of questions from Dr. Cheng about every possible symptom she might have.
The second she reached the hallway at the bottom of the stairwell, the dogs bounded over to her, noses wet, tails wagging.
“Good morning, angels.” Anya knelt down to greet them as usual.
“Hey, you’re awake.”
Anya looked up sharply at the person standing in the kitchen doorway.
Gabe.