In the Absence of You by Sunniva Dee

dreadlocks flinging behind him against the plastic seat.
    Bo is like my brother, but I can’t decipher his expression this morning. There’s something ghostly about him. His pallor, certainly, which makes the dark rings around his eyes more prominent and the grey of his irises eerie.
    He crosses his arms, nodding. “Yeah. She’ll be okay. She lost a lot of blood. A lot.” His throat bobs on a swallow, and I’m hoping it’s because he’s relieved. Goddamn, I can’t take my brother like this. I remember him before Nadia. He had some gloomy fucking years before her.
    “What about the baby?” I ask and watch him stuff his hands deep into his pockets. His stare moves around, not looking at me, and—fuck—his chin quivers.
    “They replenished with several bags of blood,” he whispers as Aishe reaches him. She hugs him and pulls him toward us until he’s in our midst. “Nadia survived because of all the blood they gave her.”
    “Shit, man,” I manage.
    “I’m so sorry,” Troy says what I should have said.
    “But she’s okay. That’s the most important thing,” Elias says.
    My half-hug is supported by the others. We get Bo in some sort of huddle, eyes glossy for Nadia and him.
    “You can have other babies. There’re tons more where they come from,” I tell him. With tears running down her cheeks, Aishe glares at me like I’ve said something wrong, and for a fraction of a moment, she reminds me of my bitchy girl.
    “I don’t think Nadia sees it that way.” Bo can’t speak clearly anymore. There’s a warble to his tone I’ve never heard before. “She has lost so much, Emil. Everything she’s lost in her life.”
    “She’s never lost you,” I object. “You’re an ass, but she seems to dig you.”
    “True, man,” Elias chimes in, and even Troy approves of something I say for once. He’s usually stuck up and wanting things expressed differently and better and more politely. “True, she always seems happy around you, which must be your fault.”
    “I feel like apologizing for your friends,” Aishe mumbles, but Bo touches her shoulder before covering an eye with the back of his hand.
    “They’re keeping her overnight. Want to make sure she’s okay.”
    “They better. I mean, it would be pretty crazy if they didn’t, right?” Elias says, looking between us. “The back lounge was a freaking crime scene.”
    “Elias!” Aishe barks. “What’s wrong with you?”
    “Sorry, Bo. It was crazy though.”
    “I’ll be staying here tonight,” Bo says to Troll, who nods and jingles the keys to his rent-a-car. “They’re rolling in a bed for me. She’s sleeping now, but she won’t wake up alone in that room.” Bo’s eyebrows contract as he works to suppress emotion.
    “Do you need anything before we head over to the hotel?” Troll asks, handing over his overnight bag. “I dropped your toothbrush in there.”
    “Ah no. I’m good. I’m going back in, guys. She needs me.”
    Yeah. We know.

AISHE
    “I ’m saying, ‘I don’t. Fucking. Care!’”
    It’s been three days since Nadia was released from the hospital, and we’re still stranded at the airport hotel. Troll isn’t his regular, impatient self. The man is in disaster mode, finding solutions and calming everyone down.
    Only this time it’s different. Because Bo is never the one freaking out. Bo invented stoicism. Controlled and in charge, he’s the perfect leader of Clown Irruption, yet now we’re stranded because of him and we’re paying for the bus, for the driver, canceling show after show while Bo refuses to uproot Nadia from their hotel room and move on.
    “All I care about is her, okay, and she’s not doing well. I’m not playing a single show with my darling this ill. Rent someone in for all I care.”
    Rent someone in? As in a hired musician?
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Emil shouts. “There’s no hiring people in to replace you ever. What the fuck are you talking about? Plus, Nadia looks fine to me. A