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rainbowfic2015-06-02 01:08 am
delirio) wrote in rainbowfic2015-06-02 01:08 am
Entry tags:
Bittersweet #2
Name: Jenny delirio
Story: H2O (Chapter 4)
Colors: Bittersweet #2: Memories
Word Count: 3286 ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: No warnings this chapter :)
Notes: I am happy for crit, comments, or just readers. This is a story I want to publish, so feedback is highly appreciated. Also, does anyone prefer these full chapters or shorter scenes? I am torn.
I kept watch over my patient until I was satisfied she would not wake for the rest of the night. In the morning, I would call for the Bianchi to transport her to the hospital and quarantine, where she would sleep among the other unfortunates.
Perhaps I would have called them that night if I'd feared she was contagious, but the only way to contract Delirio was through contact with water. I was safe enough with her in the spare room, and I was used to treating patients in my house on occasion. So I felt secure in my decision when I finally crawled into bed, late that night. Gigia draped herself across my legs, her fluffy tail flipping back and forth restlessly. Most nights, she settled in and stayed put until morning, but this time she couldn't seem to get comfortable for long. Finally, an hour or two before dawn, she hopped onto my chest and gave a querulous miaow. After I recovered my breath from her sudden weight and regained my senses from being woken so sharply, I smoothed her twitching back and scratched behind her ears. "What's bothering you, hmm?" I asked. I laid there for a bit, enjoying the furry warmth on my chest and the rumbling purr that was my reward for easing her fears.
At once she went from peaceful contentment back to full alert, her eyes large and dark, trained fully on the door. I heard a soft scuff in the hall. Unnerved, I extricated myself from the cat and swung my legs from the bed. Since the Bianchi patrols began, there hadn't been much crime in Centro, but there was always the chance someone desperate enough might break in looking for a drug fix…
It was not a thief.
The woman looked even more like a phantom in the low light; Twalkhi had passed its zenith and so only the barest traces caught on her hair and the contours of her face. The fine nightgown and her pale skin stood out clearly, though, cutting a sharp shape that seemed to float in my darkened hallway.
Impossible, I thought, she should be asleep. Then I realized my error: she might be walking, but she was not awake. It was uncannily like what I'd seen earlier that day, the dreamy tread, the faint sway. This time, however, when she spoke under her breath, I could make out the words.
"Let me in."
They sent a shiver down my spine. So it was Delirio, after all. But I'd never seen a patient in a trance like this, especially not after being sedated. Luca and the others had not moved since being admitted to quarantine. "Miss?" I ventured, keeping my voice low so as not to startle her. She did not respond, but she did not start walking again. Remembering the reaction I’d gotten last time I touched her, I tried to encourage her to move with my voice. “My dear, you need to go back to bed."
“Bed,” she murmured more clearly, nodding. “Back to bed.” But she stepped forward, rather than turning around. I made an equal step back to avoid coming into contact with her, then had to take another, and another as she advanced. The wall that separated the hall from the main room blocked me from going further. I could scramble to the side but I didn’t want to leave the way open for her. I also didn’t want to touch her and cause her to panic.
Then she took another step while I hovered in indecision, and as neatly as a dancing partner, she moved into my personal space. I froze, holding my arms awkwardly away from her. If I touched her unexpectedly, would she wake again as she had earlier? Would she panic? I was out of the sedative. I'd used the last of it on her to calm her in the street. It shouldn't have worn off so quickly. What was I supposed to do now?
She took the decision from me with her next step, which brought her into contact with me. I held my breath, waiting for her to startle herself awake; instead, she sighed and relaxed against my chest.
Her cheek felt warm, but no longer feverish. Thank goodness for small favors. I decided the risk of rousing her would be worth it if I could get her back to bed. Gently I rested my hands on her shoulders, pried her away from me. She did not wake.
I let out a breath in relief. “Let’s get you settled again,” I said as calmly but firmly as I could. She made some unintelligible reply and went along as I guided her back to her room. I have no idea how but I managed to get her to lie down peacefully. When I covered her with the blanket, however, I found I could not pull away. Her hand had found mine, laced fingers together before I knew what she was doing.
“I cannot believe this,” I muttered, trying to free myself to no avail. Her hand curled around mine and would not let go.
It was late. I was tired. I gave up trying to free myself, caught the bedside chair with my foot and dragged it over, then settled as best I could. I stole the small throw from the foot of the bed and hoped it would be warm enough. Next time I went chasing sleepwalking patients in only my pyjama pants, I'd remember to put on a robe and slippers first.
***
"Here, kitty." A soft female voice roused me from slumber; followed by the hiss of my cat as she dug her claws into my leg. I yelped, sending the cat scrambling under the bed and startling the girl whose hand hovered just above the space where the cat had been. My neck ached from the awkward angle at which I'd slept, but I tried to stay very still so as not to frighten my patient.
We stared at each other. I saw her eyes travel from mine, slowly down and back up again, taking in the sight of a strange shirtless man sitting by her bed. But she showed no fear, only curiosity. With a sigh, and feeling a bit self-conscious, I rubbed my leg where the claws had raised welts and pulled the blanket up a bit to cover my chest.
"I'm a doctor," I said before she could leap to an improper assumption, "You have been ill. How are you feeling?"
"I'm...all right. I think. I don't remember being sick. Are you certain you're a doctor?" She eyed my chest again. "You're not...dressed like one."
"Oh, for goodness' sake. You don't remember anything? Sleepwalking? Speaking in fevered delirium? Collapsing in the middle of the sidewalk?"
Her eyes went wide. They were every bit as blue as I’d recalled. She shook her head, hard at first and then gingerly as she appeared to feel an ache. "N-no. I...I can't remember. It hurts to think."
"You had a fever,” I said more gently. “I thought you had…I thought you were more ill than you are. If you allow me to dress, I’ll come back and give you a proper examination. All right?”
“Mhmm.” Her gaze unfocused as she frowned, as if she were replaying what had happened. At least she did not argue.
Perhaps seeing me in proper clothes might reassure her. I felt unnerved just standing there half-dressed; how must it appear to a girl who'd woken with no knowledge of what had happened to her? As curious as I was myself, it was probably better for both of us that we start over with some measure of propriety.
I took the blanket with me when I stood. Not that I had anything to hide, but I felt more than a little awkward walking around without a shirt. “Do you think you are up to eating something?” I asked. She nodded emphatically, then slowed when she remembered the pain. “That’s good. I’ll bring you some food when I return.”
I put the kettle on while I changed. One of the perks of my position was that I had good clothes in good repair. I'd learned early on that my appearance affected how well my patients listened to me, and so the one luxury I allowed myself as an affiliate of the Church was a small wardrobe of white shirts and black suits. As I buttoned my vest and tied my red cravat, I felt the comforting gravity of my calling settle around my shoulders. I pulled on my jacket, then checked my reflection in the mirror. My hair needed combing and my sideburns had gone askew in the night, but these I quickly put to rights.
Then I was ready. It was much easier to project an air of confidence when one was properly dressed.
I returned to the kitchen to make tea for both of us and surveyed my meager cupboard. There wasn’t much in the way of hearty food, and I'd spilled the soup I'd intended to eat that day, but I managed to find a vitamin bar and an apple. They would have to do until I could get back to Cantabile for something a little more substantial.
"Much better," she said with admiration when I returned. "You look more like a doctor now."
I handed her the bar. "Eat this," I ordered, ignoring the comments. "Slowly, though. I want to make sure you can keep something in your stomach. When you’re done, you can have this." I set the apple down on the side table with the tea. Her eyes tracked it hungrily and she bit her lip in disappointment when she looked at the vitamin bar.
"But…the apple…" she began.
"Protein first, sugar second," I admonished. “Now, let’s see what condition you're in.”
She watched the medigauge scan as she chewed the bar in a desultory way. I hid my smile. The readings came back better than my initial scan the day before, though her temperature remained slightly elevated. “Any pain, aside from your head?”
“No,” she said around a mouthful of food. “But it hurts when I move too quickly.”
“And when you speak?”
She shook her head and instantly regretted it. “Ow.” Her hands went to her temples. “It’s right behind my eyes, Dottore. It won’t go away.”
“Here.” I dug in my bag and found the bottle I needed, some mild pain pills. I handed her one. “Take this with the tea.”
The effect was visible in seconds, and she looked up at me in relief. “Grazi,” she said gratefully as she attacked the apple. “That helped.”
I sat on the bed and let her eat. She enjoyed the apple far more than the bar; juice ran down her chin and she laughed a little as she tried to wipe it away. I handed her a napkin and picked up my tablet. “Do you think you can answer a few questions?” I asked as I tapped the screen. “Beginning with, what is your name?”
“I’m—” she paused, thinking. “I’m…I’m…” Each repeated word grew a bit more frantic.
"Easy," I said, making notes, “Don’t be afraid. You had a fever and a fall, and some people don't react well to sedation. You will probably remember it soon enough. I’d still like to go through the rest of my questions, if you feel up to it?” She nodded warily. “Good. Do you know today’s date?”
“The…the third.” She gazed at nothing when she spoke, then looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “Is that right? It’s the third day of Melior’s Autumn phase.”
I allowed a smile. “Close. It’s the seventh, but you have the right phase. That’s a good indication that you’ll recover your memories, my dear."
She laughed again. It sounded like a birdcall, a cascade of high, effortless notes. "Dispi, dispi," she said at last. "It's just that when you call me that, you sound so old. But you're not old at all.”
“May we continue?” I asked, somehow discomfited at her easy humor. She seemed to accept everything so quickly. But at her nod, I ran through the rest of my questions. She answered most of them just fine—basic math, spelling simple words, even spelling complex words and giving well-educated definitions when asked. But the things she missed were interesting. Anything about herself, she did not know. Where she was from, what she did for a living, where she worked, her birth date…none of these things came to her.
By the end, though, she had visibly relaxed. The painkiller had helped, but so had the food and the conversation. The cat, despite a few hisses, decided that she would sleep on the bed no matter who else was in or on it. The woman laughed at my poor disgruntled cat, drumming her fingers in hopes of attracting a purr, and while she was distracted, I asked casually as I could, “Who are you?”
“Anna,” she replied absently, her eyes on the cat, but then I saw the moment it hit her. She met my eyes in astonishment. “Anna,” she said again, trying the word out on her tongue. “That’s…that's my name. I can feel it.”
"Well, then, Anna,” I said, tapping the tablet and closing my notes, “I’m pleased to meet you. I am Dottore Corvi. You are in my home in Centro district, in a room I keep for patients.”
“This is your home?” She looked around the tiny room as if noticing it for the first time. “No wonder. I couldn’t figure out why a doctor had a cat in his office.”
“That’s Gigia.” I stood and cleared the teacups and the apple core. “She doesn’t like anyone but me, so don’t take it personally if she hisses at you. She’ll scratch, too, if you try to pet her and ignore the warnings.”
Anna sent me a lopsided grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
"...Right." I found myself at a loss for some reason, so I escaped to the kitchen and poured two more cups of tea. The pantry failed to magically replicate more food, which meant a trip to Cantabile was unavoidable.
“Drink this,” I ordered when I returned to the room, “and then I’ll show you the washroom. When you’ve cleaned up a bit, I need to go out on my rounds. I am going to see if my neighbor will sit with you in the meantime.”
Anna took the cup but did not drink yet, suddenly a little uncertain. “La, Dottore…I don’t know if I can pay for all this. You’ve given me medicine and food…”
I held up a hand. “I tend to everyone in Centro free of charge, so please, don’t worry about that. What I do want is for you to rest and recover.”
She nodded, but frowned. "How do you make a living, if you don't charge your patients?"
I paused. "It's taken care of," I said at last, trying to keep the distaste from my voice. "Suffice to say that it's not an issue that should concern you."
Anna studied me for a moment over the rim of her teacup, eyes narrowed. I had the impression that she wanted to ask more, but in the end, she merely cast her gaze demurely down and away. “As you say, Dottore."
"Right." I cleared my throat. "Right. I'll just be off, then."
"Mhmm." It was a noncommittal word but the tone spoke volumes. I hesitated, wondered if I should explain more, then realized that I was trying to justify myself to a patient. It occurred to me that somewhere along the way, I'd decided not to send her to the hospital, but to treat her on my own. Perhaps it was the curiosity of her brief illness, or the way she tilted her head when she laughed up at me.
"Right," I said again, unnecessarily, and left.
***
I made my way downstairs to my neighbor's smaller apartment. Just as I raised my fist to make the first knock, however, the door opened rather abruptly. Domani, wearing a saffron-colored shawl and orange dress, framed herself in the doorway as if she'd been waiting there the whole time, cane hooked over her arm.
“Well, well,” she purred, “Fancy seeing you today, and unannounced!” She eyed me up and down. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your notice?"
“Please,” I said with all the dignity I could muster, “Do we have to go through this every time?”
She laughed aloud. Hers was smokier, more cynical than Anna’s twitter. “Oh, Massi, you’re far too easy to tease. Come in, come in. What can I do for you?”
“I have a patient upstairs. She’s feverish but managing. She also seems to be suffering from a loss of memory. Would you stay with her while I’m out? I have rounds that won’t wait and I’m uncomfortable leaving her alone.”
At the mention of a patient, her demeanor changed at once. “Of course,” she said, then slipped back into her sultry mood. "I do love it when you owe me things. Like the dinner you promised me yesterday...?"
"Dispi," I sighed. "I intended to bring it to you, but one bowl was lost and the other was given as payment to a man who helped me when I brought the girl in. I'll make it up to you again, I promise."
Her brows rose. "You never take in patients overnight. Does this girl have a name yet?"
"Anna. That's all she seems to remember."
Domani crossed her arms over her narrow chest. Her wavy curtain of black hair was hardly a barrier between her shrewd gaze and me. "Is she pretty?"
"I fail to see how that matters," I said, annoyed. "Can you come up or not?"
"Ah," she said with a knowing nod, "so she is. I bet she's blonde. Am I right?"
"Domani--"
She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, calm yourself, Dottore. I'll be up in a moment. But now you owe me two dinners, not one."
"Anything, fine. Just help me so I can get to Cantabile before it closes."
"Yes, yes," she said, shooing me out the door.
But before I could walk away, her hand caught at my sleeve. I looked from my arm to her face, curious.
This time, she did not look at me. Instead she focused inward, brow furrowed. "Let whom in?"
As if burned, I pulled my arm away to break her hold on me. "What?"
Domani blinked, startled back into the present. "Those words. Not words, a feeling. What was that about?"
I hadn't had a chance to tell her about Luca, and she couldn't have heard Anna in the hall last night. I'd barely heard her myself and I'd been standing right there. But the odd phrase rang inside me. Shaken, I moved out of her reach and toward the stairs. "It's nothing. I don't know why you're trying your esoteric nonsense on me again."
"So it does mean something?"
"No," I said with finality, "It doesn't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for work."
"As you say, Dottore."
Hearing two things mimicked so closely made me pause on the stairs, but this time Domani did not wait around for me to say anything further. She shut the door firmly and I heard her uneven footsteps stride away and fade into the apartment.
I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and went back up to my own flat.
delirioStory: H2O (Chapter 4)
Colors: Bittersweet #2: Memories
Word Count: 3286 ish
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: No warnings this chapter :)
Notes: I am happy for crit, comments, or just readers. This is a story I want to publish, so feedback is highly appreciated. Also, does anyone prefer these full chapters or shorter scenes? I am torn.
I kept watch over my patient until I was satisfied she would not wake for the rest of the night. In the morning, I would call for the Bianchi to transport her to the hospital and quarantine, where she would sleep among the other unfortunates.
Perhaps I would have called them that night if I'd feared she was contagious, but the only way to contract Delirio was through contact with water. I was safe enough with her in the spare room, and I was used to treating patients in my house on occasion. So I felt secure in my decision when I finally crawled into bed, late that night. Gigia draped herself across my legs, her fluffy tail flipping back and forth restlessly. Most nights, she settled in and stayed put until morning, but this time she couldn't seem to get comfortable for long. Finally, an hour or two before dawn, she hopped onto my chest and gave a querulous miaow. After I recovered my breath from her sudden weight and regained my senses from being woken so sharply, I smoothed her twitching back and scratched behind her ears. "What's bothering you, hmm?" I asked. I laid there for a bit, enjoying the furry warmth on my chest and the rumbling purr that was my reward for easing her fears.
At once she went from peaceful contentment back to full alert, her eyes large and dark, trained fully on the door. I heard a soft scuff in the hall. Unnerved, I extricated myself from the cat and swung my legs from the bed. Since the Bianchi patrols began, there hadn't been much crime in Centro, but there was always the chance someone desperate enough might break in looking for a drug fix…
It was not a thief.
The woman looked even more like a phantom in the low light; Twalkhi had passed its zenith and so only the barest traces caught on her hair and the contours of her face. The fine nightgown and her pale skin stood out clearly, though, cutting a sharp shape that seemed to float in my darkened hallway.
Impossible, I thought, she should be asleep. Then I realized my error: she might be walking, but she was not awake. It was uncannily like what I'd seen earlier that day, the dreamy tread, the faint sway. This time, however, when she spoke under her breath, I could make out the words.
"Let me in."
They sent a shiver down my spine. So it was Delirio, after all. But I'd never seen a patient in a trance like this, especially not after being sedated. Luca and the others had not moved since being admitted to quarantine. "Miss?" I ventured, keeping my voice low so as not to startle her. She did not respond, but she did not start walking again. Remembering the reaction I’d gotten last time I touched her, I tried to encourage her to move with my voice. “My dear, you need to go back to bed."
“Bed,” she murmured more clearly, nodding. “Back to bed.” But she stepped forward, rather than turning around. I made an equal step back to avoid coming into contact with her, then had to take another, and another as she advanced. The wall that separated the hall from the main room blocked me from going further. I could scramble to the side but I didn’t want to leave the way open for her. I also didn’t want to touch her and cause her to panic.
Then she took another step while I hovered in indecision, and as neatly as a dancing partner, she moved into my personal space. I froze, holding my arms awkwardly away from her. If I touched her unexpectedly, would she wake again as she had earlier? Would she panic? I was out of the sedative. I'd used the last of it on her to calm her in the street. It shouldn't have worn off so quickly. What was I supposed to do now?
She took the decision from me with her next step, which brought her into contact with me. I held my breath, waiting for her to startle herself awake; instead, she sighed and relaxed against my chest.
Her cheek felt warm, but no longer feverish. Thank goodness for small favors. I decided the risk of rousing her would be worth it if I could get her back to bed. Gently I rested my hands on her shoulders, pried her away from me. She did not wake.
I let out a breath in relief. “Let’s get you settled again,” I said as calmly but firmly as I could. She made some unintelligible reply and went along as I guided her back to her room. I have no idea how but I managed to get her to lie down peacefully. When I covered her with the blanket, however, I found I could not pull away. Her hand had found mine, laced fingers together before I knew what she was doing.
“I cannot believe this,” I muttered, trying to free myself to no avail. Her hand curled around mine and would not let go.
It was late. I was tired. I gave up trying to free myself, caught the bedside chair with my foot and dragged it over, then settled as best I could. I stole the small throw from the foot of the bed and hoped it would be warm enough. Next time I went chasing sleepwalking patients in only my pyjama pants, I'd remember to put on a robe and slippers first.
***
"Here, kitty." A soft female voice roused me from slumber; followed by the hiss of my cat as she dug her claws into my leg. I yelped, sending the cat scrambling under the bed and startling the girl whose hand hovered just above the space where the cat had been. My neck ached from the awkward angle at which I'd slept, but I tried to stay very still so as not to frighten my patient.
We stared at each other. I saw her eyes travel from mine, slowly down and back up again, taking in the sight of a strange shirtless man sitting by her bed. But she showed no fear, only curiosity. With a sigh, and feeling a bit self-conscious, I rubbed my leg where the claws had raised welts and pulled the blanket up a bit to cover my chest.
"I'm a doctor," I said before she could leap to an improper assumption, "You have been ill. How are you feeling?"
"I'm...all right. I think. I don't remember being sick. Are you certain you're a doctor?" She eyed my chest again. "You're not...dressed like one."
"Oh, for goodness' sake. You don't remember anything? Sleepwalking? Speaking in fevered delirium? Collapsing in the middle of the sidewalk?"
Her eyes went wide. They were every bit as blue as I’d recalled. She shook her head, hard at first and then gingerly as she appeared to feel an ache. "N-no. I...I can't remember. It hurts to think."
"You had a fever,” I said more gently. “I thought you had…I thought you were more ill than you are. If you allow me to dress, I’ll come back and give you a proper examination. All right?”
“Mhmm.” Her gaze unfocused as she frowned, as if she were replaying what had happened. At least she did not argue.
Perhaps seeing me in proper clothes might reassure her. I felt unnerved just standing there half-dressed; how must it appear to a girl who'd woken with no knowledge of what had happened to her? As curious as I was myself, it was probably better for both of us that we start over with some measure of propriety.
I took the blanket with me when I stood. Not that I had anything to hide, but I felt more than a little awkward walking around without a shirt. “Do you think you are up to eating something?” I asked. She nodded emphatically, then slowed when she remembered the pain. “That’s good. I’ll bring you some food when I return.”
I put the kettle on while I changed. One of the perks of my position was that I had good clothes in good repair. I'd learned early on that my appearance affected how well my patients listened to me, and so the one luxury I allowed myself as an affiliate of the Church was a small wardrobe of white shirts and black suits. As I buttoned my vest and tied my red cravat, I felt the comforting gravity of my calling settle around my shoulders. I pulled on my jacket, then checked my reflection in the mirror. My hair needed combing and my sideburns had gone askew in the night, but these I quickly put to rights.
Then I was ready. It was much easier to project an air of confidence when one was properly dressed.
I returned to the kitchen to make tea for both of us and surveyed my meager cupboard. There wasn’t much in the way of hearty food, and I'd spilled the soup I'd intended to eat that day, but I managed to find a vitamin bar and an apple. They would have to do until I could get back to Cantabile for something a little more substantial.
"Much better," she said with admiration when I returned. "You look more like a doctor now."
I handed her the bar. "Eat this," I ordered, ignoring the comments. "Slowly, though. I want to make sure you can keep something in your stomach. When you’re done, you can have this." I set the apple down on the side table with the tea. Her eyes tracked it hungrily and she bit her lip in disappointment when she looked at the vitamin bar.
"But…the apple…" she began.
"Protein first, sugar second," I admonished. “Now, let’s see what condition you're in.”
She watched the medigauge scan as she chewed the bar in a desultory way. I hid my smile. The readings came back better than my initial scan the day before, though her temperature remained slightly elevated. “Any pain, aside from your head?”
“No,” she said around a mouthful of food. “But it hurts when I move too quickly.”
“And when you speak?”
She shook her head and instantly regretted it. “Ow.” Her hands went to her temples. “It’s right behind my eyes, Dottore. It won’t go away.”
“Here.” I dug in my bag and found the bottle I needed, some mild pain pills. I handed her one. “Take this with the tea.”
The effect was visible in seconds, and she looked up at me in relief. “Grazi,” she said gratefully as she attacked the apple. “That helped.”
I sat on the bed and let her eat. She enjoyed the apple far more than the bar; juice ran down her chin and she laughed a little as she tried to wipe it away. I handed her a napkin and picked up my tablet. “Do you think you can answer a few questions?” I asked as I tapped the screen. “Beginning with, what is your name?”
“I’m—” she paused, thinking. “I’m…I’m…” Each repeated word grew a bit more frantic.
"Easy," I said, making notes, “Don’t be afraid. You had a fever and a fall, and some people don't react well to sedation. You will probably remember it soon enough. I’d still like to go through the rest of my questions, if you feel up to it?” She nodded warily. “Good. Do you know today’s date?”
“The…the third.” She gazed at nothing when she spoke, then looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes. “Is that right? It’s the third day of Melior’s Autumn phase.”
I allowed a smile. “Close. It’s the seventh, but you have the right phase. That’s a good indication that you’ll recover your memories, my dear."
She laughed again. It sounded like a birdcall, a cascade of high, effortless notes. "Dispi, dispi," she said at last. "It's just that when you call me that, you sound so old. But you're not old at all.”
“May we continue?” I asked, somehow discomfited at her easy humor. She seemed to accept everything so quickly. But at her nod, I ran through the rest of my questions. She answered most of them just fine—basic math, spelling simple words, even spelling complex words and giving well-educated definitions when asked. But the things she missed were interesting. Anything about herself, she did not know. Where she was from, what she did for a living, where she worked, her birth date…none of these things came to her.
By the end, though, she had visibly relaxed. The painkiller had helped, but so had the food and the conversation. The cat, despite a few hisses, decided that she would sleep on the bed no matter who else was in or on it. The woman laughed at my poor disgruntled cat, drumming her fingers in hopes of attracting a purr, and while she was distracted, I asked casually as I could, “Who are you?”
“Anna,” she replied absently, her eyes on the cat, but then I saw the moment it hit her. She met my eyes in astonishment. “Anna,” she said again, trying the word out on her tongue. “That’s…that's my name. I can feel it.”
"Well, then, Anna,” I said, tapping the tablet and closing my notes, “I’m pleased to meet you. I am Dottore Corvi. You are in my home in Centro district, in a room I keep for patients.”
“This is your home?” She looked around the tiny room as if noticing it for the first time. “No wonder. I couldn’t figure out why a doctor had a cat in his office.”
“That’s Gigia.” I stood and cleared the teacups and the apple core. “She doesn’t like anyone but me, so don’t take it personally if she hisses at you. She’ll scratch, too, if you try to pet her and ignore the warnings.”
Anna sent me a lopsided grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
"...Right." I found myself at a loss for some reason, so I escaped to the kitchen and poured two more cups of tea. The pantry failed to magically replicate more food, which meant a trip to Cantabile was unavoidable.
“Drink this,” I ordered when I returned to the room, “and then I’ll show you the washroom. When you’ve cleaned up a bit, I need to go out on my rounds. I am going to see if my neighbor will sit with you in the meantime.”
Anna took the cup but did not drink yet, suddenly a little uncertain. “La, Dottore…I don’t know if I can pay for all this. You’ve given me medicine and food…”
I held up a hand. “I tend to everyone in Centro free of charge, so please, don’t worry about that. What I do want is for you to rest and recover.”
She nodded, but frowned. "How do you make a living, if you don't charge your patients?"
I paused. "It's taken care of," I said at last, trying to keep the distaste from my voice. "Suffice to say that it's not an issue that should concern you."
Anna studied me for a moment over the rim of her teacup, eyes narrowed. I had the impression that she wanted to ask more, but in the end, she merely cast her gaze demurely down and away. “As you say, Dottore."
"Right." I cleared my throat. "Right. I'll just be off, then."
"Mhmm." It was a noncommittal word but the tone spoke volumes. I hesitated, wondered if I should explain more, then realized that I was trying to justify myself to a patient. It occurred to me that somewhere along the way, I'd decided not to send her to the hospital, but to treat her on my own. Perhaps it was the curiosity of her brief illness, or the way she tilted her head when she laughed up at me.
"Right," I said again, unnecessarily, and left.
***
I made my way downstairs to my neighbor's smaller apartment. Just as I raised my fist to make the first knock, however, the door opened rather abruptly. Domani, wearing a saffron-colored shawl and orange dress, framed herself in the doorway as if she'd been waiting there the whole time, cane hooked over her arm.
“Well, well,” she purred, “Fancy seeing you today, and unannounced!” She eyed me up and down. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your notice?"
“Please,” I said with all the dignity I could muster, “Do we have to go through this every time?”
She laughed aloud. Hers was smokier, more cynical than Anna’s twitter. “Oh, Massi, you’re far too easy to tease. Come in, come in. What can I do for you?”
“I have a patient upstairs. She’s feverish but managing. She also seems to be suffering from a loss of memory. Would you stay with her while I’m out? I have rounds that won’t wait and I’m uncomfortable leaving her alone.”
At the mention of a patient, her demeanor changed at once. “Of course,” she said, then slipped back into her sultry mood. "I do love it when you owe me things. Like the dinner you promised me yesterday...?"
"Dispi," I sighed. "I intended to bring it to you, but one bowl was lost and the other was given as payment to a man who helped me when I brought the girl in. I'll make it up to you again, I promise."
Her brows rose. "You never take in patients overnight. Does this girl have a name yet?"
"Anna. That's all she seems to remember."
Domani crossed her arms over her narrow chest. Her wavy curtain of black hair was hardly a barrier between her shrewd gaze and me. "Is she pretty?"
"I fail to see how that matters," I said, annoyed. "Can you come up or not?"
"Ah," she said with a knowing nod, "so she is. I bet she's blonde. Am I right?"
"Domani--"
She waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, calm yourself, Dottore. I'll be up in a moment. But now you owe me two dinners, not one."
"Anything, fine. Just help me so I can get to Cantabile before it closes."
"Yes, yes," she said, shooing me out the door.
But before I could walk away, her hand caught at my sleeve. I looked from my arm to her face, curious.
This time, she did not look at me. Instead she focused inward, brow furrowed. "Let whom in?"
As if burned, I pulled my arm away to break her hold on me. "What?"
Domani blinked, startled back into the present. "Those words. Not words, a feeling. What was that about?"
I hadn't had a chance to tell her about Luca, and she couldn't have heard Anna in the hall last night. I'd barely heard her myself and I'd been standing right there. But the odd phrase rang inside me. Shaken, I moved out of her reach and toward the stairs. "It's nothing. I don't know why you're trying your esoteric nonsense on me again."
"So it does mean something?"
"No," I said with finality, "It doesn't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for work."
"As you say, Dottore."
Hearing two things mimicked so closely made me pause on the stairs, but this time Domani did not wait around for me to say anything further. She shut the door firmly and I heard her uneven footsteps stride away and fade into the apartment.
I closed my eyes, counted to ten, and went back up to my own flat.
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