We finally landed and were met by Paige’s friend Angela. She took us to the airport in her car, chattering cheerfully the whole way. I was surprised that Paige didn’t chatter along with her, Paige had always been the one to do the talking when it was the two of us. I guessed that Angela never really gave her the chance to say anything, or that, like me, she was just worried about Cynthia. She and Cynthia had been friends, she’d told me once.
Angela didn’t drive as fast as I’d like, but we made it to the hospital soon enough. She didn’t walk fast enough either, but she led me straight to Cynthia’s room, shrugging off some confused nurses as we walked through the clean white halls. We were surely a strange trio: Paige in a cami and sweatpants, I in basketball shorts and a girl’s sweatshirt, and Angela, an intern, leading in front.
We stopped in front of a door, and suddenly my heart was pounding in my chest. Angela gestured to the door, and I reached out to grasp the handle. With one twist, I was in.